Karate Talk

Success, Natural Talent and Work Ethic

There are few things more frustrating to an instructor than a student who won't work.  It's even worse when that person has natural abilities, because you see what they could become with a little more effort.  If that person talks big as well, then the teacher ends up beating their head against the wall.

We had such a student.  They had undeniable natural abilities -- their body fell naturally into the karate stances, they readily picked up new techniques.  They had no problem learning new katas.  They were also hungry for recognition and tournament glory.  This was unfortunately coupled with poor physical fitness and an even worse work ethic.  They couldn't get sustain effort through an entire class, instead always finding an excuse to sit out for part of the training, or slacking when they thought no one was watching.  They missed training as much as they attended.  Through it all, they talked about how everyone said they were so talented and would go so far, and how they wanted to win.  They ultimately left us to train elsewhere, after spending several months doing almost nothing with our dojo.

They probably blame us, as they blamed the dojo they trained in before ours, and claim we had nothing to offer them and couldn't help them succeed as they wished.  I have spent much time pondering how much blame we should accept.  We all tried, but it was like a black hole; no amount of attention was enough, and no amount of serious conversation could convince them to apply themselves.  Instruction went in, nothing came out.  It was so frustrating to me on a personal level that by the time they left, I could barely stand to watch them train, if they showed up at all.

One thing I do accept blame for, although I'm not sure what more we could have done.  But the one essential thing we failed to get across to this person is that natural talent only takes you so far.  When you look at the people standing on top of the podium after a competition, they are all naturally gifted.  What sets you apart at the highest levels is how badly you want it, and what you're willing to sacrifice for it.  If you want to win, you need to close your mouth, open your mind, and push your body.

I've had the privilege to be around many naturally gifted and driven people, and I saw that they had something I lacked.  These people are huge successes in their respective fields, and it's because not only did they start off with the talent and the inclination, but they did not allow for distractions.  I'm different.  I have natural abilities in several areas, as do all people.  However, I was never willing to give up my other interests to put all my time and energy into just one thing.  I realized very early on that this meant I gave up the chance to "rule the world" at any one thing, and that was okay with me.

Our former student still has not realized that they can't have it all, and that sacrifice and some old fashioned hard work will be required for them to succeed.  We ran into them a little while ago, and they regaled us with tales of how hard they work in their new dojo, how much they are pushed, and how they expect to win on a national level.  We looked at the slouching frame, the flabby muscles with no hint of definition, and the fact that we happen to know this is a training day for that dojo, and knew that whatever the other students were doing, our former student had not changed their ways.  I'm not sure if they are fooling themselves, but they certainly aren't fooling us.  I felt a resurgence of my old frustration.  But they are someone else's problem now, not mine; it's no longer my job to try to push, motivate, inspire, teach, or even just get through to them.  So I wish them well, and even more, I wish for them that they have a breakthrough in understanding and start to work for what they want.  If they do, the results will be wonderful to watch.

Aging Gracefully

As in, I don't think I am.

I'm pouting today.  I have a pulled or torn bicep, it hurts and it sucks.  I don't heal as quickly as I once did, I injure more readily, and it's taken way longer than I think it should to get back into some semblance of shape after the baby.

The operative phrase here is "I think".  Most other people assure me that I do not seem old, fat, or slow to them... but it feels that way to me some days.  Some part of me still thinks I'm 19, can abuse my body in sports and get dinged up, and should snap right back.  If I gain some weight, a week or two of eating less will take care of it.  If I get out of shape, a week or two of hard work and I'm well on my way back to fitness.  Right?

Wrong.  Part of me knows this.  Part of me acknowledges the passage of time, and is even grateful for it in many respects.  That part of me is currently being smacked upside the head by the other part of me which doesn't appreciate being old and fat and tired and hurt!!

Karate is a Constant

All this time without a post, and I'm sure most people think I've disappeared somewhere.  Quit karate, maybe, after becoming a mom, like so many people do.

Well I haven't, but I do have newfound respect for all those people, and owe them an apology for my unspoken criticism of their dedication.  It's just plain hard sometimes to combine parenting and martial arts, from a time standpoint if no other.  My husband and I are incredibly lucky -- his parents live nearby and babysit twice a week so that we can both train on those days.  Other days, we trade off.  It's a compromise, not a sacrifice, but it means we train less, and I fear that it shows.  We try to make up for that by training hard physically and mentally, and we're grateful to both be still passionate and involved in martial arts.

That's the nice thing.  After all the chaos attendant on moving and welcoming a new member of our household, learning to be parents and adjusting just about every aspect of our lives, karate has remained a constant in our world.  It is an anchor in many ways, strengthening us mentally and physically, as well as giving us a second home in the dojo, a place to leave the daily routine behind and strive for something different.  This should not be confused with saying that karate is stagnant, that it never changes, evolves, or challenges; quite the contrary.  But the basis is reliable:  the putting on of my gi, the stretching, the review of basics, the adjustments to stance or technique, the repetition of kata and the revelations that can bring, and above all the time and attention spent focused on nothing but karate.

I've spent the last year training when I could, watching, criticizing, being frustrated, being rewarded, and all the other things that you get in a dojo.  I've written innumberable blogs about my experiences that never made it to the keyboard.  I hope and plan to start posting again much more regularly, and I'm sure that many of these things, personal or otherwise, will make it into this blog.

But I thought it appropriate, this day, to bow in respect to my martial art, and constant in an ever-changing world.

Testing vs. Tournament

I'm in a ranting kind of mood.  I could blame it on the chaos that surrounds my personal life (nothing too dire, just constant chaos), but where's the fun in that?  So instead, I'm going to indulge myself in some soapbox time.

One question which keeps arising, in various forms and from various perspectives, is that of testing vs. tournament.  Is one more important than the other?  Are they the same thing?  Do you train the same way?  Do the results mean the same thing?

Let me start off by quoting Mr. Okazaki, who has repeatedly said that karate has three aspects:  training, testing, and tournament.  Each should be equally important.  Therefore, putting in your time in the dojo, testing for rank when eligible, and competing in tournaments, are all equally important.  Each tests you in different ways, and each offers something the others cannot.  For example, regular training shows commitment and assists in fitness and a sound foundation; testing gives you the opportunity to show how you've grown; and tournament gives you a chance to compare your skills to others.  So the answer to the first question, in my opinion, is unequivocal:  neither testing nor tournament is more important or "better".

So would you train the same way for both?  After all, both require you to be in good physical shape, to know your katas, and to be able to do kumite.  However, many aspects of their training are quite different.  For example, when being tested, your basics and foundation are critically important:  stance, how you make technique, etc. are all evaluated carefully.  In tournament, sometimes people take shortcuts and get away with it.  Why?  Because you are being compared to the other people in the ring with you, not against an arbitrary standard or against your own past performance.  Tournament sparring is a chess game, full of strategy and scoring a point.  Test sparring is about dominating your opponent and controlling the match.  Very different things in execution.

Finally consider what the results might mean.  If you win in tournament, that is obviously a great achievement and worthy of recognition.  It means that on this day, you performed the best of everyone out there, in the opinions of the judges.  You can be very proud.  However, it does not necessarily mean you're the "best", or even that you were the best out there.  It's a triumph on a small scale, to be enjoyed but not over-emphasized.  If you pass a dan test, that is obviously a great achievement and worthy of recognition.  It means that you have demonstrated to a panel of certified examiners that you have improved your own karate, that you are able to perform well against an objective set of criteria that are used to help define that dan rank, and that you have shown dedication and commitment.  It does not necessarily mean you're the best, it doesn't mean you'll win tournament, it doesn't necessarily mean you're stronger or faster than people you outrank.  Your shodan is not their shodan, any more than your karate is their karate.  It's a personal milestone, not to be measured against the other karateka you train with, but only against yourself. 

You can pass your dan test and be eliminated first round in tournament, every single time.  It doesn't mean you suck!  You can win in tournament and not pass your dan test, more than once.  It still doesn't mean you suck!  It just means that different judging criteria are applied by different judges.

Me?  I prefer to be judged against my own work, my own history, my own achievements.  I feel confident that in most cases, I measure up.  I detest being compared to someone else who might have more power but weaker stances, who might love to compete and always excel where I always seem to be lackluster, to have people watch who don't understand and wonder why I outrank some other people.  So obviously, I prefer testing -- although "prefer" does not by any means indicate enjoyment!  It just means I have no need to prove myself "better" than other people (well, not most of the time anyway) but I always want to prove that I'm better than I used to be.

So... testing vs. tournament.  I don't care which one you prefer or excel at.  I only care that you endeavor to do both, to help yourself grow, that you train for both, and that you realize they are not the same.

Do You Fuchi More Than You Know?

Once upon a training, one of the higher rank black belts was waxing eloquent about some karate-related thing, when the sensei came up next to him.  Sensei formed his hand into the shape of a duck bill and moved it up and down, then said, "Fuchi no karate!" and laughed.  He then looked at me, shook his head, and added, "Mouth karate... talk talk talk!"

We all laughed but the point was made, and we all got back to work.  More work, less talk! 

It's a familiar issue in every endeavor you undertake.  Some people are hard workers, some people spend much more time talking about their work than actually doing it (personally I believe these people are responsible for 99% of useless meetings I've had to sit through).  Many people are dedicated, but we all have our days/weeks/etc. where the motivation dies, and we find ourselves doing more talking than doing.  It can sneak up on you; you might think you're still busting your keister while the people around you are wishing you'd shut up so they can get back to work.

Karate goes in highs and lows for me, and in the course of the ride I sometimes find myself talking.  A lot.  To other people, to myself, to sensei.  I have opinions on everything and express them indiscriminately.  I don't always realize I'm doing it unless it's pointed out to me.  At that point, I usually feel embarrassed and slightly resentful, but it also helps me to focus myself again and get back on track.

Of course, it's easy to see in other people.  I know several people who sparred against high ranks when they were comparatively low, and won their matches.  A couple of these people still bring that up whenever sparring is mentioned -- rather than doing whatever sparring drill is being suggested.  I know a few other people who talk about how much potential they have, and how they're destined for great success at (insert team or event) -- and miss plenty of trainings, don't work as hard as they should when they do attend, and are visibly out of the sort of condition required for that greatness they desire.  Another has not graced a dojo in many years (a litany of injuries will follow if you ask why) -- but will they readily tell you how they could improve everyone else's karate, regardless of their relative rank or experience.

So that's my challenge to any readers who haven't given up on this blog due to the seriously sparse postings lately! (hey, I've been training as much as possible but I have a 4 month old midget at home and she takes priority):

Examine your dojo self.  How much work are you doing vs. how much talk?  Are you making every training?  How hard do you work while you're there?  Do you accept criticism as a chance to improve, or reject it as a put-down?  Do you always have an excuse or response when you are being corrected? 

Remember, the dojo is a training hall, and you should respect it as such.  Make sure your priority there is work, not talk.

You just might fuchi more than you know!

A New Generation

Thanks to everyone for your recent comments and please excuse the delayed response. 

My husband is recovering quite well from his broken nose, thank you!  And we've moved on from the incident itself except as a reminder of the inherent dangers in martial arts, and the fact that some people are just jerks! (lol you can tell I've forgiven the guy...).  The person in question has a history and a reputation, few if any friends, and as nearly as anyone can tell, doesn't care.  What's to be done with such a person?  Well basically, nothing.  Except hope that over time, he will change his attitude.

I also am recovering, out of the hospital (with a new baby girl!!) and out of training for at least 6 weeks due to recovery needed from surgery.  This is probably for the best since I am barely sleeping and would be a menace to myself and everyone else in a dojo!  But she's worth it.

Watch out, the next generation hath been born!

The Debate About Sport Karate

Two posts in one day after weeks of silence...

The tournament last weekend has reawakened the old debate about sport karate vs. martial arts, and this time there's a new twist because we have some new members of our dojo who come from a much more sport-oriented background.  Although they've worked very hard with us and are great to have, they also naturally have some loyalty to their old style, as well as a certain philosophy that they were taught and that they agree with.  They get understandably defensive at times when they hear disparaging comments about sport karate.  We get defensive when they try to argue with us about it.  The incident last weekend illustrated the divide:  some of the new people defend the person who broke my husband's nose, while we try to make it clear that such behavior is not acceptable in our dojo and never will be.

Since that type of debate also comes up frequently online, I thought I'd just go on record with what I believe the differences are between traditional martial arts and sport karate, and when or if there is a problem or a conflict.

To start with, I want to emphasize one thing:  unlike some traditionalists, I am not anti-sport-karate, per se.  I fully support participation in tournaments, I understand competitive spirit and why people would want to win.  Not a problem.  I understand and respect the amount of training and dedication that it takes to become a top competitive martial artist, and I respect the skill level gained in the process.  I accept that some degree of feistiness between competitors will naturally arise in high adrenaline situations, and that some injuries or aggressiveness go with the territory.

For me, the problem arises when winning becomes more important than martial arts.  What do I mean by that? 

Well, there are some people who practice solely to win tournaments.  If they stop winning, they quit martial arts because it's "no fun anymore".  That's a problem for me. 

There are some people who practice only what they need to in order to win, and regard everything else you're trying to teach them as an irrelevant waste of training time.  That's a problem for me.

There are some people who think that winning is worth it at all costs.  This might include people who are willing to risk injuring an opponent in order to land a flashy sparring technique, when a lesser, and less dangerous, technique would have done just as well.  That's a problem for me.

There are some people who pitch tantrums when they don't win, fling accusations at fellow competitors or judges, claim there's unfair bias or that people were just jealous of them.  That's a problem for me.

There are some people who gloat when they do win, showing blatant ego instead of humility, rubbing it in and showing no respect whatsoever for their opponents.  That's a problem for me.

Are these things problems for me in every sport or every form of competition?  Not necessarily.  Different endeavors have different rules of behavior.  Why are they a problem here?  Because they are antithetical to the spirit and philosophy of traditional martial arts.  The body has learned but the soul is still immature.  A true martial artist should be working on both.  Some sport-oriented martial artists never work on any aspect but the physical, so I consider them unbalanced.  With all that skill should come some knowledge and discretion concerning what to do with it.  I'll go on record also as saying all the fuzzy philosophy in the world doesn't make you a martial artist unless you also work the physical and attain true skill.

When people can train diligently, work hard and endeavor, and grow on all levels, then I support them.  If they love to compete and are willing to bust their keisters to win, then I respect them.  In fact, I have no problem at all with competition (I personally don't enjoy it, but that's just me) as long as the competitors remain martial artists.

When they don't, then I want nothing to do with it.  Our organization, our region, our senseis, our dojos do not endorse such an approach, and anyone who wishes to train with us needs to accept that.  For us, winning will never be more important than respect and hard work.  We give much greater value to the person who can walk away from a pointless physical confrontation then we do to someone who lets themselves get baited into unnecessary violence, in the dojo, the tournament ring, or the real world.  That's not skill or mastery, it's ego.  And it's not worth it.

Of Tournaments and Leading By Example

So there was a tournament this weekend.  I did not participate.  My husband did.  The end result of the day was to illustrate several points that we feel are key to proper martial arts etiquette and understanding... unfortunately, these were illustrated by someone doing exactly the opposite, and the consequences that followed.

There's a male competitor who we see periodically at open tournaments, known for being brutal in sparring.  Broken noses, cracked ribs, and other injuries follow in his wake.  Recently he injured someone in dojo so badly their face required reconstructive surgery.  To say he's unpopular with his fellow competitors is a bit of an understatement.  He and his siblings are excluded from the usual camaraderie that exists at ringside.  There are some who greatly admire his skills, and I will give him full credit for being a very skilled martial artist.  I just don't particularly care for how he chooses to use those skills.

So you can imagine how thrilled I was when I saw that he was my husband's second round opponent for sparring.  My comment before he went into the ring?  "Block face, for heaven's sake!"

My husband considered various strategies and decided that the best one was to make this guy respect his distance and speed.  So he struck out immediately, aggressively, went after him with a couple of punches and then a couple of roundhouse kicks head-level.  This opponent also never blocks, and if my husband hadn't pulled the kicks, he'd have been unconscious.  But he did pull them, because his intent was not to injure; they were scoring techniques and there was no need to hurt someone to prove that.  My husband chased him out of the ring with these kicks, and as the last kick was coming down, his opponent reacted by aiming a perfectly executed and timed jodan punch to his unprotected face.

This was a legal, very appropriate move.  The problem is that it was done from about a foot away, and wasn't pulled in the slightest.  Full speed, full power, full distance, full contact.

Today my husband sits on the couch with packing up his broken nose and a lot of painkillers in his system.  His opponent was DQ'ed from competition and there is actually talk of a suspension for flagrant excessive, malicious contact.  This is probably based partly on the fact that he's been DQ'ed a lot for similar problems in the past few years.  The hubby and I made a point to minimize the incident to the other competitors and people from our dojo, joking that broken noses are bound to happen sooner or later.  Most of the competitors came to check on him before we went to the hospital.  The exception?  You guessed it.  His opponent never approached him with the requisite apology and concern for his health that proper etiquette and manners (not to mention character) demand.  We're really not surprised, but it illustrates the point that bothers us most about the whole incident.

So at the end of the day, what lessons could be learned?  Fans of full-contact sparring will argue that this guy did exactly what he should have and is the "real" fighter, but I might point out this was a traditional karate sparring match and certain rules applied, which he ignored, and that he has a track record of ignoring such rules.  Those same fans will say my husband should have gone ahead and kicked him in the jaw, if he really could have, and will say that he'd never last in a street fight because he pulls his techniques.  I would point out that if he wasn't bound by rules in a tournament and really felt threatened, he wouldn't pull his techniques.  Trust me on this one.  I've seen him take someone down when he had to, quickly, efficiently, and without hesitation.  But he doesn't hurt people when there's no need for it, because he's not a thug.  He's a martial artist.  And yes, Virginia, there is a difference.

This man, the opponent, also teaches; in fact he has his own dojo I believe.  On the website he mentions humility, kindness and self-control.  I couldn't agree more, but I can't see how he demonstrated any of those on Saturday.  What is he teaching his students?  It's not enough to talk, you need to lead by example.  We were pissed beyond belief -- not at the broken nose, but by how it happened -- but made a point not to show it, not to trash talk the opponent.  We tried to set the example of self-control and walking away from a stupid confrontation, and to show them how to handle an injury should it come your way.  I think my husband did a great job of showing courage and strength, as the blood gushed from his nose and he was dizzy and nauseous but yet maintained a joking spirit until we were alone in the car on the way to the hospital, at which point his true feelings came out. 

The bottom line from where we stand?  The broken nose sucks, but we accept that as part of martial arts.  We'll even acknowledge that in many ways the cause itself wasn't so far out of line.  But here's the part where we start having issues:  the higher rank you hold, and the more experience you have, the more is expected of you.  If a brown belt or a new shodan had done this, we would not be as angry, we'd just think, "needs more experience, hasn't learned how to control his techniques or his temper yet."  However, a high rank, extremely experienced sparrer could have pulled that punch so that it landed but didn't break the nose.  Could have, and should have.  If they don't, then it's not an accident, it's a choice.  He chose to injure my husband.  And I take issue with that choice.

Our students learned some valuable lessons.  They learned why we emphasize controlling your techniques, whether in dojo or in tournament.  They learned about humility -- the guy was taping himself to put the video up on his website and some thought his shot at my husband was because he looked bad on his own video and got mad.  They learned why some of the rules of behavior exist, and got see the difference between mutual respect and self-importance.  They learned the difference between a brawl and tournament sparring, and why you shouldn't confuse the two.  Hopefully they also got to see a good example of how to deal with a difficult situation, how to control your emotions and handle things properly.

I'm not sure what the other guy's students learned, although I could hope they learned that excessive contact and aggression, not to mention ignoring the rules, will get you into trouble.  I could hope that they saw how their instructor was shunned by most of the other competitors, who dislike his willingness to injure and his lack of any remorse for it, that his students could distinguish the difference between fear and respect, and would prefer genuine respect.  But I doubt it.

Thoughts on a Tournament and Tangents

How well tournament went last weekend really depends on your perspective.  Overall, a success:  many people attended, competed, and went home with medals.  Lots of people got experience with competition and with tournament logistics.  Sparring was spirited and fun but no one got hurt.  These are all good things.

On a smaller scale, the success really depends on what perspective you had.

From the perspective of the many little kids who were in the children's divisions, it went well.  We had double elimination first round of kata, so everyone got to do at least 2 katas and have a chance to show what they could do, and nobody had to feel like a "loser".

From the perspective of the youth division, older kids who are a little more aware of all the ramifications, double elimination was a chance at redemption and for some, a double blow when they failed to win either round.  Those divisions were also well populated, but unlike the young children, the youth division starts to show some clear separations in ability; there was a group of about 8 youths who were clearly above their peers in technique, spirit, focus, etc., and they dominated the rings.  This was discouraging to kids who have gone through awkward growth spurts and lost control of their centers and extremities, and were really no match for the top tier (although they will be once they adjust to their added height and weight).  In addition, one ring had some judging controversies which will undoubtedly foster some bad feeling.

From the perspective of the adult divisions, it could be both intimidating and discouraging.  We did not have a large number of adult participants, sometimes just two or three people.  Although it guarantees a medal and a quick finish to the group, it's a lot less fun.  In the brown belt ranks, many of the competitors had tested for shodan that morning and were "on", out to prove something and already revved up, and had been training very hard for several months.  For those who weren't testing, that was a bit overwhelming. 

From the perspective of the black belt competitors, there were a lot of frustrations.  These competitors are experienced, knowledgeable, and aware.  They know how things ought to run, and they know when things aren't going smoothly.  Due to miscommunication somewhere, double elimination first round was carried over into these rings although never intended, which resulted in the brackets not going as they should have, and seeded competitors going up against each other in early rounds.  Scoring was also exceptionally slow, as was staging.  For this group, that was acutely frustrating.  The lack of some of our higher rank black belts in the competition rings, yet again, did not help.

From the perspective of those working behind the scenes, checking in competitors or working the tables, there were other frustrations.  Clear instructions are given on the entry forms, but many people do not follow them, which means a lot of headaches at check-in as people had to produce identification, membership cards, payment, proper paperwork, etc.  There were also same-day entries, which means that these people have to be added at the last minute to the brackets, and some no-shows, which requires more adjustments.  Most people working the tables were inexperienced; they've never written up brackets or had to juggle them, and had to call on tournament organizers to help them.  In one case, a high rank belt insisted on working a table and took over the running of it, despite having absolutely no table experience whatsoever.  The trained brown belts did not know how to handle this and really had little choice but to let the higher rank call the shots, but many problems ensued because of it.

From the perspective of the major organizers of the tournament, the day was a long series of headaches, crises barely-averted, and some not quite averted.  Aware of many things the average competitor would not know, they are taking notes on what not to do next year.

From my perspective, the day was mostly frustrating.  I was neither competing nor judging nor working tables, because not only am I almost 7 months pregnant, but I was also sick as a dog.  I did what I could to help and stayed all day to support my husband and our dojo, but had to spend a lot of time holding up the wall and trying not to pass out.  I've worked tournaments since I was a green belt, I've done every aspect of ring management from staging to re-writing brackets to scoring and can get a division completed quickly and efficiently, and it was acutely frustrating to look out and see problems but be unable to take over and correct them because realistically I couldn't stay sitting there through a long division.  It was frustrating to see inexperienced, uncertified judges having problems that slowed down some rings, and know that if I had been judging, they wouldn't have been out there.  I have training in all these things, and I felt like I let down the team by not doing any of them. 

I am still processing my feelings on a number of levels, and will have a few things to say (I'm sure!) about some of the things people did that caused problems, because I am really annoyed at some of them.  Some people really should know better.  For now, I will say I'm glad tournament is over with no total catastrophes, I'm glad that some of the competitors had a really good day out there, and I'm glad I can breathe through my nose again!

Martial Arts Experts, Revisited

There are so many martial arts experts out there!  It's really quite impressive.  Master, Grand Master, Shihan, Sensei, and all the others.  Black belts everywhere, in every discipline, in every dojo.  All of them so experienced, so full of knowledge, wisdom, expertise and good advice.

Right?

Yes, that's absolutely right.  Every single one of them is, indeed, an experienced and wise master who can set you on the right course.  And once you're there, I have some property I'd like to sell to you...

The problem with naming anyone an "expert" lies in the precise definition of expert, as well as who confers the title upon them.  For example, someone who has reached high rank in an established organization, who is certified in one or more ways and vouched for by their martial arts elders, probably has some skills under that frayed and faded black belt.  I am more than willing to at the very least hear them out, and will probably gain from the experience.  On the other hand, I have issues with the self-proclaimed "experts".  Those issues start, but certainly do not end, with the fact that they feel important enough to proclaim themselves so to the world!

I have certainly had my moments of feeling all-knowing and wise, looked around at a dojo full of people and just longed to benefit them with my riches.  Luckily for me, I was rarely able to indulge myself, since said dojo usually contained a number of people who have been doing this longer than I had, and who frequently outranked me.  Very beneficial for preventing me from making a fool out of myself. 

I'm extremely lucky that way.  I train in a region rich in high rank certified instructors, experienced world-level competitors, and a deep base of karate-ka who have been doing this for many long years.  Despite my years of training and dedication, and the rank I've attained, I am very, very rarely the most qualified person in the room.  Just for starters, my husband has been doing it for twice as long and outranks me, my instructor is a 6th dan, and the regional head is an 8th dan who did his initial dan testing years ago under Funakoshi. 

Kinda keeps things in perspective.

A woman I know has been doing karate for about 20 years.  She's good.  She's one of those deceptively good people; not a lot of flash, but very solid, much faster and more intuitive than you might realize until you try sparring against her and realize you can't get a damn thing through!  She also is a wife, mother, and college professor, so her training in the past few years has been less intense.  Some newer people don't necessarily realize her long history.  At Kangeiko, one of these people chose to give her some advice on her kata.  She smiled politely and refrained from commenting that she remembered when this person wore a white belt!  Another woman I know gave some advice on kata to someone she met at Master Camp.  She later had to apologize (as did her instructor) to the 5th dan that she (a nidan!) had been correcting!

I am always very careful about who I give advice to.  I will give opinions freely if the situation warrants it (or in this blog), but it's so important to keep a low profile.  I could put up a pretty good argument that I have the goods to back my opinions up, and the right to express them:  I have a respectable rank, with more than a decade of experience, who is in the Instructor Training program, who assists my sensei with teaching and instructs the beginner class, and fills in for sensei when he is out of town in teaching belts of all levels... definitely solid credentials, but unless I'm actually teaching, or it's someone from my own dojo that I outrank and who hasn't trained as long as I have, then I rarely comment unless I am asked. 

Why not?  Respect.  Even if you technically have rank on someone, it doesn't always mean it's necessary or appropriate to give them your two cents.  It's great to feel that you've grown, that you've learned so much.  It's great that you've reached a point where you start really seeing things like hip rotation, vibration, correct technique, timing, etc.  These insights will take you a long way, and if someone asks you to watch their kata and give them some feedback, you will be able to give them something constructive to work with.

Until then, unless you happen to be their instructor or have been specifically told to work with them, then it's probably best to keep your mouth shut.  People don't always appreciate your well-meaning advice, and you might be stepping on toes without even realizing it.  There are plenty of qualified instructors out there to handle the teaching duties; stick to your own training and it will be better for everyone concerned.