There is an old adage in traditional martial arts that states one must “empty their cup” when they go to a dojo. A lot of folks believe that Bruce Lee was the first to coin this phrase, but this aspect of oriental philosophy was around long before the Dragon graced movie screens. The visual of this idiom goes something like this: You are having tea with someone wiser than yourself and they offer you a cup, but your cup is already full when you present it. So naturally, the cup overflows and you never receive the new, fresh tea. The take-away is to always have an open mind because you can’t learn anything from someone if you are full of your own thoughts.
Now, this is easier said than done because it requires the “h-word”…humility. Humility happens when you realize that you don’t know everything regardless of your current skills and abilities. I learned this the hard way when I went to Japan and began my study of aikido. I had been training in other martial arts for almost 10 years and thought I knew it all…another one of those moments in life where I wish older me could walk up behind young me and slap him/me in the back of the head. It’s probably better that it happened the way it did because now my experience has greater meaning. There’s a moment when you realize you don’t know as much as you thought you did and a lightbulb goes off. That moment happened for me the first time one of my aikido teachers threw me with irimi nage, a technique that looks like a clothesline hit. Looking back now, he probably sensed my skepticism and wanted me to feel the technique. I felt it. My cup was emptied along with a little bit of my bladder.
I think this concept can be very difficult for westerners because of the fast-paced lives most of us have these days. Having an encyclopedia on your phone probably doesn’t help; taking the time to turn the pages and look things up the old fashioned way requires patience. So does learning a martial art. And over the years, I have had people come to our dojo with a full cup, unable to grasp, at least initially, what we attempt to pass along. We’re so full of our own experiences that it’s hard to have the patience to allow someone to pour something new into our cup.
I’ve had a long-standing policy when it comes to visitors who may have earned a black belt in another style. The appropriate thing to do when you visit another school with a different system is to wear a white belt to symbolize your willingness to “empty your cup.” I typically forgo this honor and offer people the opportunity to wear the rank they’ve earned. I do this for two reasons: First, I truly believe that if you’ve spent the time, sweat and blood to earn and learn something else, I respect that and I want to honor it. Second, I want to see if you will really empty your cup, or if you will say something like, “Oh that’s cool, but this is the way we do it.” That tells me a lot about someone. If a visitor doesn’t offer up their take on a given technique, I usually ask them to demonstrate it for us. I do the same for others who may have training in arts like BJJ, even if they don’t have their black belt yet. In this way, I honor their skills and knowledge and we approach each other with an empty cup. Exchanges like this leave long-lasting impressions.
Of course, having an empty cup isn’t just a martial arts thing. Last night, I had a video chat with my sons in honor of their mom. It was her birthday yesterday and we have a pact to always celebrate it together no matter where we are. Among other aspects of her personality, they brought up how much they miss sitting on the couch with her and having coffee. So do I. I could write an entire book about it; Coffee With Mom. Terri was a master of the empty cup. She never started conversations about herself. In fact, she loved to ask questions, some times deep and possibly uncomfortable questions about other people. That was her usual starting point for talks that might last an hour or two. And everybody that was a part of our original dojo had that opportunity with her more than once. There were times when people intended to just stop in the house after class to use the bathroom before they left and ended up staying for much longer. Another deep conversation on the couch with Terri.
Our dojo is pretty small and we don’t have a lot of extra space, but one thing I will always have room for is a kutatsu. It’s a small, square table for gathering, eating and having tea…or sake. Terri and I bought ours from an older couple who owned a furniture store in Misawa. We sat at their kutatsu for about an hour while they served us tea and snacks. We had a memorable experience despite the language barrier. It was at a table just like this where I would sit and talk to my teachers about all things martial arts…and life. Some times the conversation was a little uncomfortable; cultural clashes, the problem with American students…World War II. Good thing the sake was always hot. But man, I learned a lot because I asked more and said less. I wanted to understand the art I studied and the culture it came from. And I learned a hell of lot more than I ever have from reading a book or watching a video.
Want to know something unique about a kutatsu? It’s too short to be a regular coffee table…you have kneel. Well, you start out kneeling until your legs fall asleep and the sake takes hold. Then, you’re sitting on the floor. That’s right, if you want to enjoy the meal, the tea, the sake and the conversation, you have to lower yourself. Empty your cup. This is the essence to learning anything new, whether it’s martial arts or another person’s point of view. Leave your shoes and your own thoughts at the door. Come and have a seat at the table and bring and empty cup.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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