As the martial arts have spread from their country or regions of origin throughout the world the thread that weaves through the generations of practitioners becomes tenuous. Lineage grows like a wild tree whose branches shoot forth in every direction far from the trunk and the seeds rain down from the canopy or are born through the air to germinate saplings in foreign soils. I studied under C who studied under B who, in turn, studied with A. I studied under D and another B who also studied under A. Legacies. Who was your teacher, where, when?

I studied Goju. Who’s Goju? So and so’s. Oh.

How far can you stray from the Dojo and still consider yourself linked to it by style? Can I call the teacher of my teacher’s teacher my teacher? Is karate, like politics, local?

Legacy from father to son, from founder to first generation, from village to nation, from nation to world, to town, city, suburb, up the street. Back & forth. A ball of string untraceable.

Should I bequeath my legacy, what story should I tell? Should I YouTube it for whatever posterity that may be? Blog it? Twitter it? Facebook it?

Too soon to tell.

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