There are many martial arts schools out there that simply require you to show up to class for a set amount of times and record your time spent then BAM! You go to a scheduled test and perform relatively decently well, get graded on your techniques and then you get a promotion! Seems pretty straightforward, right? It’s objective. It’s somewhat data driven. You put in your time, checked all the boxes, demonstrated your stuff, perhaps win a few competitions, and then you get a new belt. Well, that’s not exactly how it works here.

That doesn’t sound altogether fair, does it?  What else goes into a belt promotion then? Anything else would enter into the world of abject subjectivity, and questionable motives and duplicity. For the outside observer it may seem just that. There’s a lot more to it though. We’ll try to touch on some of the finer (or rougher) points depending on your perspective in the game.

When it comes to your training at the dojo, there is no set maximum attendance to get promoted to the next level. Sure, there are minimum guidelines such as (6-9 months for a white belt, 6-9 months for a yellow belt, 12-18 months for a blue belt, and 12-18 months for a brown belt, etc.) but there is NO set cadence or time spent to get to the next level. Unlike a step counter, nobody is counting hours or day clocked time in the dojo as a measure of whether or not someone has met the timeframe required for promotion.

Some people like Sempai Oz and Sensei Ryan took very little time to reach black belt. It wasn’t only because they were diligent and consistent, training 3-5 times a week and doing additional activities outside of the dojo to prepare, but also because they were incredibly talented and their minds just tracked and they were able to demonstrate and apply the techniques so effectively. Sempai Greg was the same way. He told me he immersed himself.  Others, such as Sempai Mariana, had decades of prior martial arts experience that were in the similar lineage of that of Kobukai. 

Then there are others that require two to three times as much time to advance.  And it does depend on the individual to some extent.  Some people that walk through the door are one heart attack away from death.  Their cardio is non-existent and need to focus on that to get to the next level. The physical demands of class alone are enough to retard their progress let alone be at a fitness level to excel.  It’s also a safety issue, when someone is gassed they get sloppy in their technique and when techniques are sloppy then they are a danger to themselves and others. 

Then there is the mental fortitude required to persevere. Shihan often used to call this “tenacity.” He used to remark on progress to simply show up to class as a bare minimum to stay on course. But he later revised that since simply showing up is just not enough. You must also be tenacious and want to know how to defend yourself, fight back hard, and win on occasion. That keeping up with your peers only brings everyone to a level of mediocrity.  Mediocrity doesn’t necessarily guarantee survival.  

I’ve seen people that are exceptionally good at techniques but you dread being their partner because they will injure you 100% of the time. That’s not a path to progress.  Others that cannot hold their aggression back and lose control. 

Then there are the mental “games” that play out in classes, during fights, and in drilling. They are no so much games, as they are human reactions to stress, and the natural pecking order that results in a closed, martial society.  There are egos involved, a zero sum game perception, and psychological factors that instructors sometimes insert to test the mental toughness that is required to survive a violent encounter.  On any given day, one may notice folks from any walk of life downplaying their intellect and reverting to the basest instincts in their speech, aggression and attitude. 

It’s really a sink or swim environment, this dojo is.  A lot of people come to the point of breaking down their preconceived notions that are barriers to their progress and refuse to change their thought patterns.  That is why the attrition rate is so high at Kobukai. At some point something becomes unpalatable to an individual and they have to make a choice, whether to swallow the pill or walk away for good.  There’s the abyss moment. 

 Of course, a test is not a true test after all. A promotion is simply a formality, ceremonial in nature but the individual is already operating at that level in some cases, for months. So why is there such a large gap between readiness and testing? Ask the Sensei’s but from what I ascertained, the thought is that even the techniques, and preciseness and fitness all pass the sniff test, there is the “seasoning” aspect where the individual is comfortable in their own skin and can consistently demonstrate and operate at the level that is characteristic of the promotion.  

My only advice in all of this is to work with your instructor to find out exactly what you need to work on.  Don’t guess at what is holding you back. It shouldn’t be a mystery but also observe the requisite behavior of senior students and instructors and emulate their behavior. It’s pretty stratight forward, show respect, empathy, seriousness, and a thirst for knowledge and pursuit of perfection. Many of those characteristics are directly ingrained in Japanese culture. Maybe take a moment to understand and acknowledge the traditions and culture of where this all originated from. Back in the days of the Samurai, surviving a battle was reward enough. That meant you had met all of the prerequisites of fighting in mortal combat and you were either good and/or lucky enough to walk away to live another day.  Many of us have lost touch with in civilian society on how tenuous a bond we have with life and death.  Kobukai reminds us in some ways about that.