Kalispell Karate, Self Defense and Martial Arts

(Approx 2 minute 30 second read)

I’m often asked, “Who is your teacher?”, “What style is it you practice?”. Well, I like to say that I’m forging a personal path.

Ultimately, karate-ka who put in the training hours with the right teachers and mentors eventually end up doing their own thing, right?

After over five decades of training, much of what I do now is my own thing. Over the years, I’ve had a number of teachers, instructors, and mentors, and I like to say that I’ve integrated their teachings into my training. But it also now includes my own theories and ideas - a reflection of my personal philosophy and the continual refinement of both myself and the dojo.

Of course, I’m still in contact with people who have more experience than me, more knowledge than me, people I look up to.

Someone said to me the other day, “In a world where so many people make up their own styles, make themselves kancho, and declare themselves kings of their own castles…”

He went on to say, “Ego becomes a blindfold. Practical ability and effectiveness have the final word, no matter who you’ve trained with. And you’re only as good as your last training session.”

There comes a time when some people, myself included, get tired of following. Becoming ‘king of your own castle’ starts to feel less like ego and more like a necessity. Maybe it’s the start of another stage in your journey, or perhaps a way to rekindle that passion in your training.

For me, the growing expense of yearly affiliation was one more sign it was time to walk my own path.

I’m not talking about creating a new style of martial art here. In my case, it’s simply about exploring my own ideas, developing my own theories, and stepping away from the restrictions that being attached can sometimes create.

And when you do that, there’s always someone ready to say, “But you just made that up.”

Well, yes. In a sense, I suppose did. But didn’t everything start out that way? Everybody is influenced by someone, or something. We learn through experience, after all.

And just because something is 'made up’, doesn’t mean it isn’t real. I’m certainly not pretending to be some kind of ‘master’ creating something from scratch. Just an evolution perhaps, putting together all I have learned so far.

Many practitioners find fulfillment in established styles, tradition, lineage and structure, and that’s fine. But there are others - those ‘daring individuals’ who step away from the well-worn path, who embark on a different journey. A more personal one.

Not better. Not worse. Just different.

Something personal always begins with inspiration. It’s driven by curiosity, passion, and the need for honest self-expression. Sometimes, it comes from wanting to push boundaries, sometimes, just to find your own voice.

The concept of ‘Shu Ha Ri’ describes this evolution well. It reminds us of the importance of learning the fundamentals, absorbing what came before, then gradually moving beyond strict form, before finally arriving at a point where what you do simply becomes part of you.

Doing your own karate doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve left your teacher’s style behind. It might simply mean you no longer follow the same procedures, expectations, or limitations.

It might mean what you do no longer feels external; it has become yours.

I will always carry the appreciation, respect, and gratitude I have for those who taught me, guided me, challenged me, and shaped me.

And as many people before me have said. I stand on the shoulders of giants - not to replace them, but to better see my own path.


Written by Adam Carter - Shuri Dojo


*toryu

Yaguchi Sensei taught us the term Kuchi-Bushi, but this is the first time I've heard the other two terms.

(Approx 2 minute 20 second read)

I’m sure many people have experienced this. Years ago, when I was in school, I used to read books just to pass exams - and then that was it. I would mostly forget the content of those books afterward because I wasn't really interested in the subject.

We don't get much from books when we read just for the sake of reading. It’s better to read a chapter slowly than to rush through 100 chapters in one go. This is what I used to do during my school days, and sadly, it’s what many people do today.

If a chapter is difficult, it's better to spend time reading it over and over again than to move on too quickly without truly absorbing anything.

The more time you spend on it, analyzing and attaching mental images to it, the easier it becomes to remember and understand.

Can you see where I’m going with this?

Everyone wants to know - Now! Many people just don’t want to put in the time to learn properly. Attending the dojo once a week is never enough. How can you ingrain something into your subconscious with such infrequent practice?

Your reactions and responses need to happen without thought.

A student of mine, when asked to perform a response to a self-defense drill, momentarily forgot what he had to do. I told him, “Do anything - something is often better than nothing.” He froze, unable to move. Why? Because he was lost in thought, trying to remember what he had learned so far.

This is a problem when students can only train in small amounts. They never get to experience the feeling of just flowing in the moment. No thought - just natural, instinctive response to what is happening in front of them.

Today, of course, the YouTube sensei prevails. Many prefer to watch a video of a technique, kata, or drill rather than learn it properly from a teacher at a dojo.

Most people can “walk” through a kata fairly quickly, but do they truly know it, as they claim? No, of course not.

The ego is a big problem in the martial arts. Some reach black belt and believe they can teach others simply because they can “walk through” several kata or techniques at an elementary level.

Everyone wants things quickly but they’re not prepared to be patient and truly understand.

How can you teach others if you do not truly understand yourself? This is where depth separates true martial artists from those who merely imitate.

There’s a vast difference between memorization and understanding. One is surface-level, a performance of sorts - while the other is ingrained, instinctive, and alive.

True understanding comes from correct repetition, from struggle, from refining movements until they become part of you. It’s not about collecting techniques like trophies; it’s about absorbing principles so deeply that they shape your reactions without conscious thought.

But this takes time. It takes patience. And patience, unfortunately, is something many lack today.

Too many rush ahead, eager to “know” - but without true understanding. They mistake knowledge for wisdom, technique for application, and rank for skill.

In the dojo, you must resist this mindset. You must slow down, embrace the process, and commit to learning deeply, not just superficially. Because in the end, when you truly understand, there is no hesitation - only action.


Written by Adam Carter


*toryu