One of the most difficult concepts for westerns to grasp in terms of traditional martial arts training is the importance of relationships between practicing members of a dojo. A lot of that has to do with our culture. I’m sure you’ve heard that the 70s was the “me generation?” Well, I would contend that right after World War II, we entered the “ me millennium.” It often occurs when life becomes easy in one way or another and people focus solely on themselves. It’s not all our fault; it is the natural occurrence in a culture of abundance.
Let’s take relationships and marriage. Two people meet, fall in love and share dreams of building a family. At first, everything is about the union; we consider each other, go out of our way for one another until the honeymoon wears off and life begins to grind. Throw in a kid or two and you begin to feel like you have no time for yourself. You’re working, staying up late feeding, changing diapers, running kids to soccer and tae kwon do, etc. Soon, one or both people feel slighted and find ways to take care of themselves in one way or another. I’m not talking about having a hobby or working out. I’m taking about forgetting that a family is a team. Parents don’t help when they constantly remind their kids how “special” and “great” they are. That was part of the pathetic parenting philosophy that came out of the late 70s. What we should teach kids is to set themselves apart by the decisions they make and how those decisions affect others. Not how others affect them. That’s where selflessness and confidence come from.
The same can be said for working in company. Long-term employment in a corporation used to be what a lot of people strived for. You’d work hard, have decent wages and benefits and at the end of the road, you’d get a pension. It was a symbiotic and mutually beneficial relationship that rarely exists today. Why? Greed and ego. It’s not uncommon for the average person to have five or more career jobs in a lifetime because we’ve been told to look out for ourselves. And corporations haven’t helped any because most tend to do what’s best for the company and stockholders despite the millions of dollars spent every year on retention.
This obsession with self has found its way into traditional martial arts as well. While training in aikido in Japan many years ago, I had a friend, a fellow GI who was at the head of our class in terms of his rank. He was one step away from the coveted “black belt” and he felt that he had deserved the chance to test for it. Now, he did possess some skill (in aikido, anyway), knew all the basic movements etc. But he also had a little bit of an attitude, perhaps some arrogance. Maybe that’s why our head instructor never recommended him for a shodan examination. He told me one night after training that he didn’t want to return to the states without his black belt and he decided to go to another dojo. He found an aikido school that was, shall we say a little more tolerant of westerners and got his black belt. In order to do that, he had to take several trains to get there as this place was an hour and a half away. And he paid a lot of money for that belt. Then he had the balls to return to our school with his new rank. Much to their credit and humility, our teachers honored his belt but you could tell the relationship was over. Our relationship was over too; he asked my opinion and I called him a “dumb ass.”
This is a common theme in martial arts these days, whether we’re talking about traditional training, MMA, or whatever. The focus is on the individual; rank, titles trophies, self-worth, self-confidence. Self. Not you, me. Not your training, my training, my time, my success. Me. Because I’m paying for this. Because I have goals and aspirations. Because I shouldn’t have to spend time helping you learn. “I’m special.”
No, you’re not. You’re no more important than anybody else. As a matter of fact, without your fellow students, you’ll never achieve any of the goals you have for your own training. That is to say if you are training in the right place. A school like that is hard to find because it goes against the grain of our self-indulgent culture. Go to just about any martial arts school website and you see words and phrases like, “champion,” “self-confidence,” “self-discipline,” “winner,” “black belt club,” etc. More often than not you won’t see words like, “sacrifice,” “pain,” or “patience.” Words like that don’t sell long-term contracts.
Of course, I didn’t always feel this way. In fact, I had much the same mindset as the friend I mentioned. But having the opportunity to live in the Japanese culture and study budo really had an impact on me. The people I trained with were no longer “opponents” but partners…uke. A good uke will teach you a lot about yourself. They will help you during the initial phases of your journey, provide verbal and physical feedback. They will take a fall for you when you’re learning a new throw or technique but also provide good resistance once you understand the basics. They will pull punches while you’re learning how to block and and evade, but also hit you right in the nose when you’ve reached a level where “you should have blocked that.” And you’ll do the same for them. Why?
It’s not all about you.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Aikibudo
Dojo Cho
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