Definition of a black belt

Definition of a black belt

The way I define a black belt today is very different from the idea I had most of my life. I had a conversation recently in my 1-on-1 with Sifu Brinker, and to be fair, that has definitely influenced the way I write and think about it now.

In the past, I thought of two main meanings associated with a black belt: number one was that a black belt can perform impressive, fast, and powerful moves to fight off an aggressor or wow an audience.

The second was that the black belt symbolizes some kind of mastery end goal. We often use that term as a synonym for someone who has become exceptionally skilled in any discipline, reinforcing the idea that a black belt marks the end of the journey rather than another beginning.

Of course, I have learned over the years that the black belt is neither the end goal nor necessarily a certificate that you will do well in any fight, nor that your physical capabilities are equal to Bruce Lee's.

My understanding is that I need to convince the grading board over the course of the year that I deserve a black belt, which I found tough to wrap my head around, since my idea of a black belt was overshadowed by my basic, superficial definition. After some reflection, I can appreciate a variety of descriptions. I like looking at the physical aspects as the beginning of the mastery journey. A black belt has chosen a discipline, has solidified the basics, and is committed to continuously working on improving and maintaining their skills. I can identify with that.

There are many martial arts that use the black belt as a symbol of rank, achievement, and perhaps even status. Talking to a few people who have reached a black belt level of their specific sport makes me realize that the definitions, but also expectations, can range from solely skill-oriented to developing well-balanced members of the community and anything in between, it all depends on the philosophy and history of the school and its masters.

When I started Kungfu, I didn't think about ever earning a black belt, but I had watched my sons being instructed for a few years already, and I bought into the philosophy of our school. I knew that this is how I wanted my boys to grow up, learn about their bodies and strength and being "ninjas". It was a community I wanted my family to be part of, and I was convinced early on that the instructors energy and philosophy aligned with how we see life.

When talking to Sifu about his standards for awarding someone a black belt, it suddenly made so much sense. I know there is a certain standard of skills and knowledge that needs to be achieved, but there is so much more, and part of what Sifu pointed out was the role we play in our community and society in general. There is an energy about our black belts that just radiates kindness and inspires. 

I always feel the care, leadership, and willingness to help, as well as the discipline and presentness of our black belts.

I have often wondered how my dad feels about having reached the brown belt level twice with two different karate schools, but he never got a black belt. Until recently, I thought of this as almost a tragedy, my dad, however, doesn't seem to be bothered at all. He recently started again at another school as a white belt. What I realized is that my Dad is one of my favorite black belts without ever having put one on. I'm certainly not a Master to determine if he earned it, but everything I'm trying to achieve and develop my dad does without a Kao shi requirement list. He walks, I'm not sure how many km a day, but not less than 4, and he has never stopped after his dogs passed away years ago. He does his push-ups and pull-ups along the way on tree branches and benches and he has his numbers he sticks by. He does his exercises and meditation every day, and when he recently had his accident and broke his hip and wrist and had to be screwed back together, he told me how interesting the experience is because it presented him with one of the greatest awareness exercises. He never whines but instead practices gratitude and acceptance of what life is and is not. Due to his great physical condition when the accident happened, he recovered and mobilized impressively quickly.  My dad is also a great listener and thinker, he is an avid reader of philosophy, meditation, and psychology literature, and generally an inspiring human being. I just realized over these last few month how much my Dad represents what we as students of our school aim for and it also makes me think that there are probably numeros people out there that would have all the qualities of a black belt but dont have one to show of and on the other hand there are black belts I have met and I dont mean from our school that I have no desire to meet again or learn from. 

My conclusion is that the black belt I want to earn is a symbol of a determined human, committed to mastering a skill and keep improving. It symbolizes a certain maturity and skill level within our school and a willingness to mentor, inspire and help anybody aiming to learn. It represents the understanding that, while nobody is perfect, a black belt is generally disciplined, self-aware, and honest, constantly reflecting, making adjustments, using the available tools, and striving to regain self-control when it's lost. 

To me, the black belt also symbolizes a person who is committed to the greater good of their community, practices kindness, and continually strives for peace and balance. Finally, the black belt I want to earn stands for a level of physical and mental fitness appropriate to each individual's abilities and well-being, while also marking the beginning (not the end) of the skills needed to protect oneself and one's loved ones, should that ever be necessary. 

As my dad always says: 

Fight only if, without a fight, your death is certain, but with a fight your life is merely at risk!😉