Past Events

Certainly, I am not a proponent of testing merely because a certain length of time has passed. So, do I raise the subject of a ni dan test just because twenty-one years have gone by? Uh, no. Let me explain by describing that Wednesday night visit from our prodigal brother.

It was a no brainer that Sensei Keith would conduct warm ups. Back in the day, warm ups were his and his brother's steady tag team job. I have to say, while I expected nostalgia, I did not expect to be transported back twenty-three years. Here is where the experience began to be surreal. First of all he looks the same, his voice is the same, and his basic routine is the same - right down to “Find a dry spot for push-ups. Let's start with forty.” When he got us in leg lift position and said 'lift your feet,' I had that moment of anxiety just as I did as an adolescent. Why? Because, back then, the Morris brothers used to kick my butt with their abs routine in warm ups. In fact, I purposefully set out to develop my abdominal muscles so that, at least, I would not dread their warm ups anymore. I resolved to beat them and join them in their own torturous game. It worked out just as they planned. I learned to take the heat or get out of the dojo.

After I reassured myself that I no longer had my once white belt abs, my next dilemma was when he told us to lower our feet. Later, Sensei Greg Morris and I had a good chuckle about how we were all looking at each others feet wondering who should lower theirs first. Historically, everyone maintained his or her feet at six inches until the highest-ranking student had lowered his or her feet. They were looking at me and each other but I was looking at them. Some habits you just can't shake. Fortunately, someone had the good sense to begin the ashi descent; otherwise we might all still be there.

As we moved into basics and kata, it became obvious that our brother has not lost one bit of his skills or steely determination. He has not forgotten any part of any of his kata. It was uncanny, unnerving and unbelievable. In addition to his memory, his posture, flexibility, form, focus, spirit and manners were, as always, impeccable. It was a shining example of what you get when the student, like strongest of steel, is forged in the hottest of fires. His spirited devotion to rigorous training and rigid discipline and etiquette has branded him forevermore. Karate is ingrained within him. He could not forget it if he wanted to.

If you were not yet a member of Yoseikan II 'back in the day' please don't view the oft-used term 'old school' begrudgingly, resentfully or longingly. Don't feel left out; because what we do, and the bonds we forge on the training deck today will be tomorrow's 'back in the day.' The ability to have 'old school' lives in each and every one of us. The secret lies in training - good, hard training. After that, more training. What else? Because surely there is more to it than that. Well, not really, except devotion to your teacher, sempai and kohai. Honor your teacher and dojo through constant self-imposed shugyo. All of this goes hand-in-hand with (you guessed it) - training. Demand more of yourself than your teacher expects. Set your bar higher than he sets it. Accept no quarter, even if he offers it. Work hard and complain not at all. Don't talk about it, don't analyze it, don't cushion it, don't make excuses about it - just do it. When you exceed your teacher's expectations and yet ever set your own expectations higher, that is potent sauce. That's old school, and everyone is welcome to attend.

What else does that kind of training do? It puts you in a much better position to help your kohai if Kyoshi asks you to teach. Walk the walk before you presume to talk the talk. In fact, further testament to Sensei Keith Morris' unfaltering knowledge and ability was his skill in teaching. While only asked to correct kyu ranks on a couple of kata, his attention to detail and ability to detect the subtle nuances that required correction was, again, amazing. I was surprised but not surprised. After all, teaching has always been a big part of the forging process at Kyoshi's hand. Believe it or not, there was a long period of time when Kyoshi was the only black belt at Yoseikan II. This meant that he had little more than a handful of students whom he began to groom as teachers at a very early rank. Sensei Morris was among those students. He demonstrated what every good teacher must have: thorough knowledge of the subject matter and an easy and eloquent ability to transmit that knowledge in a sufficiently authoritative and effective manner which is devoid of ego and self-interest.

After class, Sensei Scott and I had further opportunity to work some higher-ranking kata with our old friend and brother. Yea, he knew and excelled in those as well. After we finally decided, begrudgingly, to stop training, we then took the opportunity to introduce him to the Sensei Mulvey social area where pizza and libation were enjoyed by all. Sensei Morris had the opportunity, once again, to sit and break bread with his teacher and talk about life in general. It was heartwarming proof that wherever you make your home, you always have a home with your teacher.

When all was said and done, I needed more. More time, just more. I had a hard time letting him go. So, I was pleased to spend some time with the Morris brothers and their families the next evening. Sensei Keith Morris and I met each other's family. Becoming acquainted with his beautiful wife and two adorable little girls made me feel that, even when he goes back to the West Coast, there will be less distance between us. Having heard about each other for the past fifteen plus years, Marites and I had an easy, warm interaction that seemed as though it could not possibly have been a mere introduction. Surely we have known each other all along. It seemed that Jim and Keith had a similar experience as they yapped about everything and nothing in particular. Our girls and their girls (and of course Sensei Greg Morris' girls) were fast friends, just as you would expect of cousins. While I still had a hard time breaking away and bidding my brother farewell, it was a bit more bearable.

To our friend and brother, I thank you for lifting me up. I know all of your old dojo siblings felt it, and Kyoshi felt it most of all. Seeing you and feeling so deeply and afresh our bond and kinship was a reaffirming experience that defies mere words or sentiment. Since no mere words will do, I'll resort to something from my favorite 13th century Persian mystic:

“We know separation so well because we've tasted the union.
The reed flute makes music because it has already experienced
changing mud and rain and light into sugarcane.
Longing becomes more poignant if in the distance you can't
tell whether your friend is going away or coming back.”

- Rumi

Fare thee well, Keith. I'll see you sooner rather than later.

By: Mina K. Ludwig. Esq.