Now that I’m back in the Dojo, it seems like a good time to reflect on the art I’ve chosen to learn.
I began training in Karate in 2018, initially to support my son — but it quickly became more than just a shared activity. The physical discipline came highly recommended by my doctor, especially given my heart condition and later diagnosis of COPD. But it was the suggested depth of history behind Karate that appealed to the nerd in me.
Training continued steadily until 2020, when COVID hit and separated me from the physical dojo. Online training filled the gap, and unexpectedly opened doors I’d never imagined. I had the privilege of learning from Brian Bates, Paul Broomfield (PJ Broomy), Les Bubka, Jamie Chubb, Tuari Dawson, and Chris Hanson — with seminars by Noah Legel, Christian Wedewardt, Patrick McCarthy, and Andreas Quast. Under normal circumstances, I’d never have accessed such a diverse range of instructors.
In early 2022, as most returned to their dojos, my family and I remained cautious. My wife was also on the “at risk” list, and the idea of enclosed spaces without masks — or crowded trains at rush hour — felt impossible. Returning wasn’t an option.
Still, I didn’t stop. I trained online with PJ, who had become a close friend, and continued learning from Don Came and Russ Smith. My practice became more eclectic, as reflected in my blogs. Then came the crunch: in late 2022, my company announced a return to office work. The thought of commuting triggered what used to be called a “nervous breakdown.”
Thankfully, my employer acknowledged the mental health impact and arranged for me to continue working from home. Emotionally, I turned to an online CBT course — and found surprising parallels with Karate. PJ described it as Shu-Ha-Ri — the process of making the art your own. What follows is a reflection on the physical and historical connections that shaped that journey.
The Physical Journey
Shorin-Ryu — My Chosen Starting Point
When my son began practising Shorin-Ryu Karate, I joined him — encouraged by my doctor to pursue exercise tailored to my heart condition. The style’s core kata, Naihanchi Shodan, became my entry point. I informed the instructors of my limitations and never looked back.
Cardio Vascular Naihanchi — Robey Jenkins
Through a mentoring scheme on Facebook, I worked with Robey Jenkins to adapt Naihanchi Shodan into a slow, Tai Chi–inspired kata. It became a gentle but focused form of cardio, reinforced by insights from my sister, a former Judoka turned Tai Chi practitioner. We refined stretches and punches, improving hip rotation and arm alignment — addressing my “chicken winged” style and supporting posture and conditioning.
Breathing Through Tensho — Noah Legel
Later, I explored breathwork with Noah Legel, using Tensho to manage a lingering chest infection. We focused on:
• Six-second diaphragmatic breathing cycles to build control and rhythm
• Matching breath to movement, following the internal patterns of Tensho, with deliberate exhalation from the diaphragm
I began with short step sequences, gradually building toward fuller kata practice. The result was transformative. I could train without wheezing, and the breathing routine remains part of my practice today.
Mokuso and the Addition of Sanchin — Paul Broomfield
Mokuso — the quiet ritual of clearing the mind before training — resonated deeply with CBT’s emphasis on mindfulness and breath control. I began combining CBT techniques with kata, choosing three:
• Naihanchi Shodan for mindfulness
• Sanchin for tensioning
• Tensho for breathing and relaxation
Each kata took on new meaning. PJ helped refine my Sanchin, adapting it to my physical needs. Tensho was later enhanced by Les Bubka, adding a layer of relaxation. When I shared the full CBT kata sequence with PJ, he saw how each form supported both physical and mental alignment — and even applied the method in his own dojo.
Rooted in History – Scott Mertz
During one of our sessions, PJ noted that my practice was rooted in Karate’s three core kata. I hadn’t set out with that intention, but it prompted me to revisit the history — and I found something striking.
Karate came into being at a landmark meeting on October 25, 1936, attended by Hanashiro Chomo, Kyan Chotoku, Motobu Choki, Miyagi Chojun, Kyoda Juhatsu, Chibana Choshin, Gusukuma Shinpan, Oroku Chotei, and Nakasone Genwa.
The meeting is best known for formally adopting the name Karate (η©Ίζ), meaning “Empty Hand,” replacing older terms like Toudi, Tode, Tii, and Te. But the discussions went far deeper.
Three kata were presented as foundational: Naihanchi, Sanchin, and Tensho. There was a clear desire to preserve tradition while encouraging innovation — especially to support Karate’s spread through schools and universities. Uniform standards were proposed, and Furukawa Gizaburo even introduced the concept of sports Karate, suggesting that competitive, educational, and traditional strands were all considered from the outset.
The meeting also revealed how secretive Karate practice had been, with some Masters unaware of each other’s methods. It’s a glimpse into the fragmented, often hidden paths that shaped early Karate — and makes you wonder what else was shared behind closed doors.
Thanks to Scott Mertz and his article on Karate Day, on which these observations are based.
Closing Reflections
Looking back, my journey has been shaped by both necessity and curiosity — by health challenges, historical inquiry, and the quiet persistence of practice. What began as a way to support my son and manage my condition has grown into something layered and personal. The three kata — Naihanchi, Sanchin, and Tensho — have become more than forms. They are anchors. They connect me to tradition, to recovery, to breath, and to the resilience that carried me through isolation and fear. And now, back in the Dojo, they continue to guide me — not just in movement, but in meaning.
