Te Shin Kai Karate

The Teshinkai Chronicles

Chapter One – The Birth of Teshinkai

“Every dojo has a beginning. Ours was not born from rebellion, but from responsibility.”

There are defining moments in every martial artist’s life - moments that, at the time, seem like little more than difficult decisions. Only years later do we realise they changed the course of everything that followed.

For me, that moment came in 1984.

Looking back over more than five decades in karate, I can now see that Teshinkai was never created because I wanted to establish another style or become the head of an organisation. It was born because I believed I had a responsibility to my students, my family and the future of my dojo.

Like many instructors of my generation, I chose martial arts as my career. There were other opportunities available to me, but teaching karate was where my heart lay. Those early years were far from easy. To support myself and later support my young family while building my dojos, I supplemented my income through security work, gym instruction, fitness classes. Every spare dollar went back into building my martial arts program.

At the time, there was only one Kyokushin organisation and it was under the leadership of Sosai Mas Oyama. To belong to Kyokushinkaikan was an honour. Around the world it had earned the reputation of being The Strongest Karate, and every instructor I knew wore that association with pride.

In 1981, I received one of the greatest honours of my martial arts career when Hanshi Ivan Zavetchanos, Kyokushinkaikan Chairman for the South Pacific, selected me to represent Australia at the International Full Contact Karate Championships – the Kurjurnas Brawijaya Cup in Jakarta, Indonesia, held under the direct supervision of President (General) Soeharto.

For a young karateka, it was an extraordinary opportunity.

One memory from that journey has stayed with me for more than forty years. During the flight to Jakarta, Hanshi Ivan presented me with my embroidered black belt, having completing my black belt grading in Melbourne earlier that year. It was a simple gesture, but one that carried enormous meaning.

During the journey I noticed several serious discussions taking place between Hanshi Ivan and senior Japanese officials, one of whom I believe was Goda Sensei. When our flight stopped in Bali, Ivan disembarked to attend a private meeting with the Japanese leadership group while I continued my journey home to Australia.

Some time later, I learned that Ivan had been removed from his position as Kyokushinkaikan Chairman for the South Pacific. His successor would be Shihan John Taylor through the newly established Australian Kyokushin Karate Association (AKKA). Ironically John Taylor travelled to Melbourne every week from Sydney to train under Kato Sensei, at Ivans Albert Street Dojo in Brunswick. Now he took over Australians most important role in Kyokushin.

Naturally, Ivan was disappointed.

What impressed me most, however, was that he never became bitter, he acknowledged John on his merits and respect always ensued.

Ivan told me that if I wished to remain within Kyokushin, I should register under the new administration.

That was exactly what I did. I became a member of the AKKA under John Taylor as did every other Kyokushin group in Australia.

Loyalty mattered to me then, and it still does today. So I always remained in close contact with Ivan. After all he was the first person to welcome me to Kyokushin karate as a young 13 year old in 1971.

I was opened dojos in Bendigo, Kyneton and Rochester. Like every instructor, I accepted that annual membership fees to the association were payable for every student and that kyu gradings were processed through the organisation. These requirements were part of belonging to an international body, and I accepted them without complaint.

Then another directive arrived.

Every dojo was asked to raise $2,000 to send to Japan to assist in building a new Honbu. 3 Dojos for me meant $6000, a big ask at the time.

For many instructors, karate was a passionate part-time pursuit supported by another profession.

For me, karate was my profession.

The dojo wasn’t a hobby. It was how I supported my family.

Every additional financial demand reduced my ability to invest back into my students, improve the facilities at my new full time dojo on View Point in Bendigo and simply keep the doors open.

After two years with AKKA, I approached Shihan John Taylor and respectfully explained my concerns. I was not asking for special treatment, nor was I questioning the value of supporting Japan. I simply hoped there might be room for discussion, recognising that independent instructors relied upon their dojos as their livelihood.

Unfortunately, there was no compromise.

For the first time in my martial arts journey, I found myself facing an impossible decision.

Do I continue under a financial model that I genuinely believed threatened the future of my dojo?

Or do I step away from the organisation I had proudly represented?

For reasons of survival, I surrendered my membership.

It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made.

Fortunately, my friendship with Hanshi Ivan Zavetchanos never changed.

I continued purchasing my uniforms through his agency business, for Yamato Sakura, and before long Ivan told me about an exciting new organisation that was beginning to emerge—Ashihara Karate.

As an incentive for experienced instructors to join, those transferring were recognised one Dan grade higher, and I entered Ashihara as a Nidan.

While I appreciated the promotion, it was not the rank that captured my imagination.

It was Sabaki.

For the first time, I experienced a system that emphasised movement, angles, body positioning and control as much as power. Rather than simply standing toe-to-toe exchanging techniques, Sabaki encouraged the practitioner to move, redirect, evade and create opportunity.

It made perfect sense to me. Almost immediately, my fighting began to change. More importantly, my teaching began to evolve.

Sadly, history has a way of repeating itself. Only a short time into my Ashihara journey, organisational politics surfaced once again. Senior instructors challenged Ivan’s position, and before long he found himself removed from leadership for a second time.

Watching these events unfold caused me to reflect deeply. For years I had remained loyal to every organisation I belonged to.

During that entire time, not one senior official had visited my dojo. No one had travelled to oversee a grading. No one had sat beside me to discuss the realities of running a professional martial arts school.

Ironically, at that time my dojos had been recognised as the highest recruiters of members within Kyokushinkaikan throughout the South Pacific - documented in the Kyokushin Karate quarterly magazine.

That wasn’t something I sought recognition for. It simply caused me to ask an important question.

Shouldn’t successful organisations do more than collect membership, student registration and grading fees?

Shouldn’t they actively support the instructors who dedicate their lives to building them?

These were not questions born from resentment. They were questions born from experience.

Around this time, a young Japanese exchange student named Kyoko Mew began training at my Rochester dojo.

When Kyoko learned that I was considering establishing an independent dojo identity, she spoke with her father in Japan, an accomplished Japanese calligrapher.

With great generosity, he created the beautiful kanji that would become the name of our organisation.

Teshinkai.

For me, that name represented far more than a new kanji. It represented a new beginning.

Before taking that final step, I sought the advice of the one man whose judgement I trusted above all others.

Hanshi Ivan Zavetchanos.

I asked Ivan a simple question. Would he oversee the grading standards of Teshinkai? Without hesitation, he agreed.

For the next forty-two years, until his passing in 2025, Hanshi Ivan remained the independent guardian of our grading standards. He never sought to control Teshinkai.

He simply ensured that our standards remained honest, and he was proud to see our growth.

Forty-two years have now passed since that decision.

Our syllabus has evolved.

Our teaching methods have evolved.

Our understanding of children has evolved.

Our appreciation of coaching, safety and education has evolved.

But one principle has remained unchanged.

The dojo exists to serve its students.

Everything else is secondary.

——

Next Chapter

Founding Teshinkai was only the beginning.

The next challenge was deciding what we would teach.

What lessons from Sabaki could strengthen our Kyokushin karate?

How do you preserve tradition while allowing intelligent evolution?

In Chapter Two – Building the Teshinkai Syllabus, I will share how our curriculum developed, why it evolved beyond conventional Kyokushin, and how those early decisions continue to shape our teaching philosophy today.

To be continued...

Honouring Those Who Came Before Us

Yesterday I had the privilege of attending Hanshi George Kolovos’ tournament in Melbourne. It was a wonderful day, not only because I was presented with a certificate recognising my contribution to martial arts, but because it reunited me briefly with many old friends whose paths have crossed mine over more than fifty years of training.

It reminded me that while organisations may change and people often follow different paths, the friendships and lessons forged through martial arts have a way of lasting a lifetime.

One question I asked throughout the day was whether my (our) old instructor, Hanshi Eddie Emin, was attending. I had hoped to shake his hand once again.

Sadly, I was told that Hanshi Eddie is now in aged care after dedicating so much of his life to teaching others.

That news gave me pause.

It made me reflect not only on what Hanshi Eddie contributed to martial arts, but on how profoundly he influenced my own life.

As young karateka we often remember techniques, kata and tournaments. As we grow older, however, we realise that the greatest gifts our instructors gave us were not physical at all.

They were the lessons that quietly shaped our character.

There are two lessons from Hanshi Eddie that I have carried with me throughout my entire life.

The first concerned what I would later come to understand as dojo yaburi - the challenge of someone entering your dojo with the intention of testing or overthrowing your authority.

Back then, Sensei Eddie simply said,

“If that ever happens, you simply can’t lose the fight.”

In those days we understood that to mean jissen kumite - a fight that continued until one person accepted defeat, with the one submitting calling “OSU mairimash*ta,” We trained in that most nights with Hanshi Eddie!

As a young man I thought “dojo yaburi” sounded like something from an old martial arts movie.

As the years passed, I discovered it really did happen, because I had to learn to deal with these situations often. Having an “open door” policy invited this, so eventually I changed to members only could participate in Kumite.

Life itself presents its own forms of dojo yaburi.

People will challenge your reputation, your integrity, your leadership and your resolve. They may attempt to undermine what you have spent years building.

Hanshi Eddie’s lesson for me, extended well beyond fighting.

It was about resilience. “To never give up!” as seen on Hanshi Eddie’s dojo wall in the photo!

When life tests your character, you simply cannot allow yourself to be defeated.

The second lesson came many years later, after I had established Teshinkai Karate.

Although our paths no longer crossed regularly, I always tried to remain in contact with Hanshi Eddie. Dropping in to see him and have a coffee in the cafe opposite his dojo in Moorabin. Looking back, I only wish I had done so more often.

After attending a World Kumite Organisation event in Thailand, we found ourselves sharing a taxi from Pattaya to Bangkok.

He asked how Teshinkai was progressing. I spoke about some successes, shared my struggles and everything in between. He listened quietly before saying something that has remained with me ever since.

“Stick to karate, because it will bring you everything you want in life.”

At the time they seemed like simple words. Today I understand just how profound they were.

Karate did bring me everything.

It gave me purpose.

It gave me lifelong friendships.

It gave me opportunities I could never have imagined.

It enabled me to teach full-time for more than forty years, to enjoy the honour of being a small part in the growth and development of thousands of people, young and old.

It introduced me to remarkable people across Australia and around the world.

Most importantly, it allowed me to spend my life serving others through something I loved.

The older I become, the more I realise that the greatest lessons from our mentors are often the ones they never intended to become lessons at all.

Yesterday also reminded me of something else.

Watching Hanshi George Kolovos successfully host yet another outstanding tournament, surrounded by so many familiar faces, I couldn’t help but think that behind all of us stood one man who influenced countless lives.

Hanshi Eddie Emin.

His students went on to establish clubs, organisations and friendships that continue to flourish today.

That is the true measure of a teacher. Not how many trophies they won. Not how many titles they held. But how many lives they quietly changed.

It is easy, and sometimes convenient, to lose contact with those who shaped us.

We become busy with our own careers, our own students and our own responsibilities.

Yesterday reminded me never to forget where my own journey began.

This article is simply my way of saying thank you.

Thank you, Hanshi Eddie Emin.

Your lessons are still with me.

And they always will be.

⸻

Next week I will begin sharing the story of Teshinkai Karate itself - why it was founded in 1984, the challenges surrounding its beginnings, and how its curriculum gradually evolved from its Kyokushin roots to incorporate the principles of Sabaki, ultimately becoming the system we know today.

A New Chapter for Teshinkai

As many of you know, following the recent transition of the Bendigo dojo, my role within Teshinkai is also entering a new chapter.

For more than four decades I have had the privilege of standing at the front of the dojo, teaching classes, grading students and watching generations of martial artists grow. Those years have been among the most rewarding of my life.

While my regular presence on the dojo floor has now largely come to an end, my commitment to Teshinkai has not.

In many ways, I believe my responsibility has simply evolved.

Rather than leading from the front of one dojo, I now hope to contribute by helping guide the future of Teshinkai through leadership, mentorship, philosophy and the preservation of the values that have shaped our organisation since its founding in 1984.

Over the coming months I will be sharing regular posts reflecting on martial arts, leadership, character, personal growth and the lessons that only time and experience can teach. Some will draw upon stories from my own journey, while others will explore the principles that continue to inspire me today.

I will also continue to support our instructors, assist with the development of future leaders and help ensure that the spirit and standards of Teshinkai remain strong for generations to come.

A dojo is never built by one person. It is built by every student who walks through its doors, every instructor who gives their time, every family who offers their support and every person who carries its values into everyday life.

To everyone who has been part of this journey, thank you.

The role may be changing, but the purpose remains the same.

I look forward to continuing this journey with you all—not simply as an instructor, but as the founder and custodian of the Teshinkai tradition.

Osu.

Kancho Barry Johnston
Founder – Teshinkai Karate

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Oss Kancho,

Following students of Teshinkai have won from the Shin Kyokushin tournament held on 20 June. Colombo Srilanka

Sandaru Weerasinghe- Gold
Chethaki Silva - Gold
Sandali Weerasinghe - Silver
Sanuli Weerasinghe - Silver
Insith Ambanpola - Silver
Oshan Sathsara - Silver
Danindu Sri Jayashan - Silver
Dinithi De Silva - Silver
Manith Rajapaksha - Bronze

Oss
Shihan Athula Jayasinghe