I miss a lot of things about being in the military; teamwork, discipline, a sense of mission. But one thing I miss the most is wearing a uniform for work every day for several reasons. First, I am colorblind and coordinating clothes is not my thing. You can’t go wrong with camouflage or Air Force blue or the “hospital whites” I wore as medic. No mixing and matching there. The type of uniform I wore every day was dictated by the type of work I was going to be involved in. You wouldn’t wear dress clothes out to the field.
But the significant thing about having structure, even down to what you wear every day has a powerful impact on your mindset. This was especially true for me as a Professional Military Education Instructor in a high-speed, highly disciplined, critical environment. You didn’t show up for work without razor-sharp creases in your pants and shirt, even in the battle dress uniform, or “BDU.” For me, the workday started the night before. Six days a week I had a ritual; I set aside time every night to prepare my uniform for the next day so I wasn’t under pressure before I went to work. I used heavy amounts of starch to get the creases just right, measured where all of my ribbons and badges were placed, and made sure my shoes or boots were impeccable. In the morning before I’d hit the gym, I’d go over my uniform one more time. Nobody wanted to be “that guy” who looked like a shlep as an NCO Academy Instructor.
After I retired and started working in the real world, those habits not only followed me, but helped me to transition to life as a civilian. While shiny shoes aren’t really necessary in an out-patient clinic, spending time putting creases in my pants and shirt sleeves helped me to maintain the mindset I needed in my new life. I remember being a little surprised at how some people showed up for work, especially when holes in designer jeans were the rage. It may sound old fashioned and out-of-touch, but how you present yourself still matters and I think is a reflection on the importance you place on your job.
The relationship between clothes and mindset has a lot to do with traditional martial arts training. One of the reasons Budo students wear uniforms has to do with creating the proper attitude and environment necessary for training. Purveyors of “real fighting arts” look at training uniforms with distain, often making fun of people for wearing “period” clothing as though we are at some sort of renaissance festival. My message to folks like this as well as people who have never studied a traditional form is that it really comes down to two simple things: Utility and Ego.
Uniforms are great for soaking up perspiration; believe me, it’s no fun trying to grapple with somebody wearing a thin t-shirt (or no shirt) drenched in their own sweat. Not to mention the fact that scratches and abrasions are inevitable. Thick collars and sleeves provide something to grab or snatch and really help people learn the basics when taking one’s center of gravity, applying joint locks and performing take-downs. It’s also easy to spot when someone is bleeding so that can be addressed. No, you don’t always know when you’re bleeding during training.
But the most important aspect of a martial arts uniform, and where I feel a lot of people have the wrong idea, is the mindset. It’s very similar to the thought process I had in the military. “Ok, I am at work in a military environment. There are rules for my behavior and performance. And this uniform represents those things.” In most Japanese martial arts, people wear a white uniform, some with large skirt pants known as hakama, or black uniforms. In arts like kendo or iaido, navy-blue tops are permitted. What you won’t see on any of these uniforms are a bunch of patches. Nor will you see belts with little “tabs” indicating how many ranks within ranks somebody has. That's a western idea, by the way. You see, all of these extra accoutrements help to build a person’s ego. “Look at me, look at my rank. Look at all of my patches that denote my style, my place in the dojo…my place in the world. Look at me.” The goal of Budo training, no matter the style or method is to shrink your ego, not blow it up. There’s already plenty of that in world. A dojo is one of the few places we have left to get away from all of that noise.
I have two white karate uniforms I wear for training. One is for working with other people; its a little worn, but has no holes or tears and no stains. I make sure it’s clean before every class out of respect for my training partners and for the environment we are trying to maintain. The material is new enough to create a “popping” sound when I throw a punch or a kick. The other uniform I wear is old and tattered. I’ve had it for many years and it has several tears that I have attempted to sew together, but the material is too thin. This is the uniform (gi), I wear when I train alone. There is no popping sound when I throw a punch. Like my body, the material is worn, tattered and somewhat faded. I still use it for my own training for two very important reasons. First, it reminds me of the fact that I have a long way to go to reach my goals in this journey. Second, it was the uniform I wore after my wife died and the school was closed because of the pandemic. Training was all I had to keep me going. The act of putting on a uniform and placing myself in the proper mindset was and remains a familiar aspect of my life.
I’m sure I sound a lot like some of the “old guys” who used to train in my first martial arts school. They often spoke about such things as well as how training was nothing like it was back in the day. Right of passage, I suppose. It is shame, at least in my case, that it takes so long to grasp the meaning behind the little things.
Dave Magliano
Tatsu Dojo
Jissenkan Budo
Dojo Cho
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