A Judoka is Like a Cherry Blossom

Cherish Life's Transient Obstacles

Cherry blossoms are blooming here in Japan. They appear, bloom magnificently, and vanish in just a few days.

Walking barefoot in a park near my house, I was reminded of a story I heard a long time ago about the impermanent treasures of life, so I took this picture to share with you. When you read this, many of the blossoms will already have fallen.

Blossoms frozen in bloom at the time this picture was taken

When I look at cherry blossoms while thinking of my own life, I realize that some things that seemed insurmountable were only transient obstacles that I could have overcome. Had I done so, I would be a different person now.

One thing that brought me to Japan, and continues to impress me after many years, is how dedicated people can be. A person pursuing their craft is not trying to boost their sales on social media or striving to get likes on Facebook. They are not interested in a shiny dime—an idea made obvious in a short piece of writing, so the reader has to expend little effort to see it. They ignore the gleam of superficial trinkets to dig for deeper treasures, toiling relentlessly for decades in solitude.

Nearly fifty years ago, when I was a judo club member at the University of Victoria on Vancouver Island, my coach told me a story.

Leo was also a boxer, so we often trained together by skipping rope before practicing judo techniques. One day, as we were taking a break from skipping, he said, “A judoka is like a cherry blossom.”

The unlikely comparison intrigued me.

Before I tell you his story, I must explain the colors of judo belts. The highest belts are not black. They switch to red and white stripes and then, at the highest level, to pure red.¹

Now I will share my coach’s story.

A black belt doesn’t mean a judoka is good; it means he is no longer a beginner. He is the black bud of a cherry blossom that is beginning to grow. As he trains and improves his technique, he grows stronger. After practicing for several years, he attains the rank of sixth dan, and his belt becomes red and white, the colors of a cherry blossom in full bloom.

He is now in his prime.

If he continues to contribute to the sport of judo, in addition to excelling as a practitioner, he may attain the rank of ninth dan and—rarely—tenth dan. His belt will become pure red. At the end of his life, he is like a cherry blossom that has dropped its petals.

Only the red center of the blossom remains.

1. Over seven thousand people have stood on Everest. Nearly seven hundred people have been to space. Only fifteen people have been assigned the highest rank of 10th dan in judo by the Ködokan.