One of the aspects of martial arts that always inspires me to keep going is the parallel between training and faith. If you are in the right place, that is. The “right” place is a real dojo; not just a building for martial arts training per se, but an atmosphere created by the students and the teacher - the sensei. When people talk about “the way,” Do in Japanese, Tao in Chinese, many of us westerners misunderstand the meaning. Let me simplify it for you; the way means “path of enlightenment.” Enlightenment is not easy, whether it’s spiritual, emotional or psychological. It is a constant struggle. So, a dojo is actually a place to study and pursue enlightenment. That’s what it really means - - “way place.” Not necessarily martial arts, but martial discipline lends itself to the goal.
Now, a real dojo has several necessary elements for it to truly be a place of enlightenment and growth. I use the word, “real” for good reason; there are a lot of impostors out there. In my mind, a huge, commercial martial arts academy is akin to a mega church; lots of expensive amenities, inspirational phrases on the wall, a “black belt” club, etc., all designed to dazzle and impress…and has absolutely nothing to do with real faith or discipline. Faith and discipline are selling points rather than the point. So please allow me to share some components of a real dojo.
It should be painful. Not exactly a strong selling point, but enlightenment involves pain. Sometimes it can be physical, psychological or spiritual. Sometimes all three. But if you’re not having to deal with some type of pain on a regular basis, you will never find enlightenment. Your body, mind and soul are bruised all the time. That's were tenacity begins.
It should be uncomfortable. I trained in several martial arts dojos in Japan and none of them had heating or air-conditioning. There were many moments of silence during training…like, awkward silence. It wasn’t a social event. It wasn't Tuesday night bowling. It's like wearing something itchy on purpose three or more days a week.
It should be difficult. Many schools offer kick-boxing classes because it’s a great way to get the average person to join up. You don’t need a whole lot of skill to throw on a pair of boxing gloves and punch or kick one of those free standing foam bags while listening to aerobic music. But hey, you’re doing “martial arts.” No, you’re not. A true martial art is very difficult to learn and maintain. A real martial art is frustrating and demanding. Every time you drive home there should be some reflection on what you did wrong and how you can improve.
It should be dangerous. You cannot possibly hope to gain enlightenment if you are not having to contend with some type danger. Danger of embarrassment, failure and of course, physical injury. That’s why I’m not a fan of pads or groin cups; you’re not going to walk down the street all padded up. I saw a man break his neck during one of my first jujutsu classes because he wasn't paying attention and took a fall the wrong way. An element of danger heightens your awareness which is one of the aspects of training we’re all trying to achieve. If you never have to worry about getting punched, kicked, tapped out or embarrassed, you’re not in a real dojo.
There should be expectations. I’m not just talking about how well you perform a technique. Rather, there should be spoken and unspoken rules on your behavior, what you wear, what you say, how you treat other people. How you treat senior students. How you treat your teacher. Not in a “bow to your sensei” kind of way. More like a sense of gratefulness. I admit, not all martial arts teachers are worthy of that.
All of these elements lead to the most important aspect of finding enlightenment: Humility. No matter what kind of path you’re on, if you are not constantly humbled, you will never find what you’re seeking. Everything I’ve mentioned here can be applied to faith, relationships, jobs, parenthood, etc. It can and should be applied to life. When you seek a life of self gratification, you walk further and further away from enlightenment. I’ve seen such people at the end of their days while I worked in a nursing home. They often die alone and bitter.
One of my favorite lines from a book about the tomb of Jesus talks about the fact that in order to enter or leave it, you have to stoop. You have to bow. Like martial arts, real faith requires humility. And we only gain humility through the elements of the way.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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