As a kid, I was obsessed with Karate, but I was only able to have a few brief periods of training (one as a 5-year-old and another as a pre-teen). When I discovered that I could train in college, the obsession came right back. I took the official college classes, started training at the community classes in the evenings with my new Sensei, and eventually was invited to assist him in demonstrations and with teaching students back in the college classes.
Martial arts—regardless of which specific culture or system—have deep spiritual roots and therefore come with rules. It was this time around that I started to understand the culture of martial arts and the expectations to meet if you wanted to be both respected and respectful.
As an American, I grew up with the idea that I could just do whatever I wanted and go wherever I pleased. Take a class here, take another there. However, my Sensei sat us down one day to clarify that this is not appropriate in Karate (and likely most "traditional" martial arts). He showed us a newspaper featuring a former student who had since left our dojo to go on joining another dojo and winning some kind of award or recognition.
I was surprised that my Sensei was disappointed in this former student. I would have thought that their success was a good thing, but the way in which this person broke the traditional rules actually made it embarrassing and disrespectful. It is probably more egregious because this person had earned a black belt from my Sensei, and then turned around and left for another dojo somewhere else in the state without first obtaining permission to leave.
This may sound silly: why should I have to ask permission to train under someone else, especially if I have moved away? While it's a bit of a mismatch of current culture and systems against much older culture and systems, I've found it instructive over the years as I have debated why this matters. After all, I have not resumed training in a dojo since leaving college, knowing that I would have to seek permission from my Sensei in order to do so. For now, I've opted for a practice of self-study, but I'm often longing for the chance to pick up where I've left off.
Pick Up or Start Over
There's no question that studying in-person with the Sensei, Sifu, Master, or Teacher is the best way to train in any martial art. That's where you connect with past teachers' philosophies, traditions, and culture. It's also easier to learn and perfect technique, because you get realtime feedback from people who (usually) know what they're doing. Given that we know people are transient—whether due to changing interests or physically moving elsewhere—why maintain the tradition that you should study only under one master? Wouldn't it be better if you could pick up where you left off in your new city?
Setting aside the aspect of respecting the masters (which in a lot of ways is linked to respecting our elders), the idea that you can't just leave and pick up somewhere else is a demonstration of deep discipline. The system forces you to start over. If you did acquire permission to join a new dojo, that new dojo will still not likely respect the belt you achieved somewhere else.
You're a white belt again.
In case you're unfamiliar, most martial arts have adopted a belt system that shows your progress as you learn and practice the system. Most systems (Karate, Taekwondo, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, etc.) start with a white belt and progress through various colors of belts until the black belt.
Typically, while black belts are respected, there is also a cultural precedent to still don a white belt if you are visiting a new dojo to train with them, even temporarily. We can see this in the commentary Jesse Enkamp (a black belt and prolific Karate writer/content creator) makes at the end of one of his videos:
"...I'm actually a little bit ashamed that I wore my black belt, 'cause I usually wear a white belt when I go to new dojos but I couldn't wear it this time.
So [Arakaki Sensei] said I should wear my own black belt, which I brought just in case, and then at the end of course, we did the cleaning...cleaning the dojo is a traditional thing here in Okinawa.
Everyone does it no matter what rank you are, no matter what age or belt, you always clean the dojo afterwards to show humility...That's the karate spirit, that's what we're here to learn: to be humble and to grow."
Humility is an important balancing attribute. Keeping ego in check especially in a martial arts setting is worth every effort for health and safety concerns, as well as preserving an environment where people can thrive. It's also a set-up for another life lesson using the belt as a metaphor.
Legend goes that after you've gotten your black belt and continue training over the years, eventually it will turn white again as it gets so worn out and frayed. You can actually see this happening with Enkamp's belt (and even Arakaki Sensei's):
The idea that we're all cycling between achievement and more to learn, is where I think this tradition is useful in modern contexts. I'm too used to the mindset that once I've achieved some thing, I'm now past the need to approach it again. For example, I've already gone to college and graduated, therefore I don't need to read scholarly articles or research or write anymore since it's not necessary for my career.
If instead, I approached my education in the same way as a traditional martial art, I would respect the process of experimentation, failure, study, pressure-testing, and critique, not as a means to some end, but as a life-long pursuit.
A black belt may as well be your diploma: it is ultimately meaningless without effort to revisit the basics and to continue the journey with no destination.
Cyborg
I think we've lost sight of a fundamental, human process of skill refinement and discipline as we've pursued and adopted technological shortcuts. I also think it's more to do with cultural values rather than the technology itself.
I can only speak for my own American culture, and I am seeing a distressing behavior of exasperation and half-effort being applied by coworkers and others who run up against difficult problems. I am especially distressed at my own behavior and feelings of utter failure everytime something unexpected or especially complex faces me.
I have been losing the learner's mind that Karate had been trying to teach me all of those years. Instead of collecting accomplishments, my focus on the journey is much more valuable and meaningful. Not only that, staying in the attitude of always learning, never done is helpful for the practicality. When I encounter a very difficult problem at work, I am much more likely to figure out a solution if I stay in an experimental mindset, rather than when I remain in an entitled or defensive headspace.
We all encounter difficult problems—sometimes on a daily cadence. The question isn't how many of these problems have you solved? Or when does it get easier? If we apply the humility it takes to continually put on our white belt, the question becomes: what can I learn today?
It's still easier said than done. Earning a black belt is not easy, and usually takes years of training. After achieving something like that, it's very difficult to go back to the beginning and accept feedback and instruction.
I've never earned my black belt—I've always moved before attaining it, and therefore I've had to restart my Karate journey every time. However, the learner's mind has helped me to not see this as a constant cycle of failure, rather, it's kept the interest and love of Karate very alive within me. There is so much to learn, and while I've got a few things down—like having done 10,000 round house kicks like Bruce Lee challenged—I can always improve, always discover something more.