Mastery is misunderstood

Not every “black belt” is a master. Some are just good at tying knots.

It’s a curious thing, how we assign meaning to symbols. A belt, a title, a certification—they’re meant to signify something deeper: a philosophy, a discipline, a commitment to a way of being.

But not everyone who wears the symbol has walked the path.

The world is full of people who know how to look the part. They’ve learned the moves, practiced the lines, and mastered the art of presentation. But the essence of mastery? That’s quieter. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t perform. It’s there in the subtle details—the things we can’t fake.

True mastery, I think, lives in the tension between power and restraint. It’s the wisdom to know when to act and the courage to know when to wait. It’s the humility to stay a student even when we could claim the title of teacher.

And yet, we’re often drawn to the loudest voices, the flashiest displays, the easiest answers. Maybe because it’s simpler. Maybe because we like the idea of mastery more than the reality of it.

But there’s a difference between having a belt and being the kind of person who doesn’t need one.

The funny thing is, we know this instinctively. We know when something feels authentic and when it doesn’t. When someone is living their philosophy and when they’re just borrowing it.

The question, then, isn’t whether the belt is real. The question is whether the person wearing it is.

I think about this often—not just in others, but in myself. Am I chasing the symbol or embodying the essence? Am I living by my principles or just performing them? It’s not an easy question to sit with, but I think it’s the most appropriate one.

Because at the end of the day, the world doesn’t need more belts. It needs more people who move through life as thought the belt isn’t even there.

Cheers for now,
Cam