The dojo at night
The Dojo, literally “Way Place” in Japanese, is a place with a purpose that is very specific and very nebulous in turns. Specific because it ostensibly deals with Martial Arts, the study of effective combat against fellow humans, and nebulous because that study seems almost comically ubiquitous once a certain depth of study is reached. This almost contradiction in purposes is reflected in the myriad shapes of Dojos.
There are small one room Dojos, belying their importance and the amount you can accomplish in them with their almost claustrophobic conditions. Filled with training tools, each tells a story. The size of the Dojo makes one feel overwhelmed when inside, unable to escape the raw emotion present in the training materials, absorbed into them through countless hours of work. These Dojos, born out of necessity in areas where training was either frowned upon or outright outlawed, are still in use today because their Spartan furnishings do not provide distractions from the arduous task of finding oneself. Michael Clarke, a Martial Artist who lives in Australia, has a Dojo attached to his house. The room is sublimely organized, with tools all in their proper place. The tools are in their homes, ready to be used, like books in a library, ready to help the user transcend his location .
There are exceedingly large Dojos, like the Kodokan Judo Dojo in Tokyo Japan. This mammoth 8 story building, a proclaimed “Mecca of International Judo” This Dojo, filled to the brim with Judoka (Judo Practitioners). The top two floors even include a Judo research library! Clearly, for Judo, this place becomes more than a simple Dojo; it encompasses all of what Dojos should be.
And what is it that Dojos should be? What is the “Way” that these “Places” are trying to get us on, what path? With places of such varying size, with various equipment, some with libraries and some without, for what common path could they exist, and what tools are really necessary for the realization of that path?
One of the most basic philosophical questions is this: why are we here? While this question may have occupied prehistoric man’s mind to a limited extent, the needs of survival were of paramount importance, pressing all other concerns t o the fringes of thought. We have divorced ourselves from the quagmire of survival, and allowed our minds a freedom, as far as we know, unique among creatures. There is a price to be paid for such freedom, however. The price has been a surplus of free brain space. This brain space, since the beginning of history, has been dominated by the questions of our origin as a species, and why we exist at all. Why are we the only creatures with higher thinking power and, more importantly, what do we do with this power?
To divorce ourselves from the struggle and whimsical nature of hunter-gatherer survival, we created places and homes. These new technologies allowed us to collect surpluses of food for times when roaming herds of animals were scarce. This, along with other technologies, allowed us to surpass the pure physiological needs. Being faced with new questions, we have created new places, new homes, to help us answer them. Most of the places are religious structures: Temples, Churches, Synagogues, Mosques, and Shrines. We humans make constant trips to these places to understand our greater purpose. While religious spaces are the most oft discussed and recognized, there are other spaces that accomplish similar goals. The Dojo is such a space.
A Dojo is linked directly with study of Martial Arts. To understand their power as spiritual spaces imbued with the ability to transmogrify persons, a quick trip into the history of Martial Arts is in order. The subject itself is as amorphous and nebulous as the study of human culture itself, fitting perhaps, because human histories are defined, by and large, by the wars in which they engage and their worth is dictated by the amount and size of the victories they obtain. A small vignette is in order that, like a small piece of a fractal, embodies all of the elements of the larger work.
One of the world’s most famous Martial Arts is Karate, its ubiquity making it a pseudo-synonym for Martial Arts; much like Coke is for all soda. An art born on the islands of Okinawa, a place between Japan and China, Karate was created to aid the Okinawans in defending their homes from Japanese and Chinese aggression. Their art was taught in family houses, behind closed doors, as the practice of Karate was outlawed by the occupying Japanese quickly after they learned of its existence.
A great exponent of Karate, Gichin Funakoshi, the founder of Shotokan Karate, trained in the smaller, family style dojo of Yasatsune Azato (run out of his own house). He moved from that Dojo to train with other Karate masters, all with small family Dojos. Eventually, Funakoshi, through an exhibition of Karate in Tokyo, implemented Dojos in schools, and created an organization for Karate, the Japan Karate Association, in 1955. The organization he created, like a large Dojo that helps thousands find their Way in the world, accomplished the same goal as the small, family Dojo in which he started on the island of Okinawa. This was Funakoshi’s way of giving the comfort of that family Dojo to the entire country of Japan. In this way, martial arts give comfort and stability to the people who study them.
A few words on my own Dojo. My Sensei (teacher) ran the Dojo out of his home. While the back yard, the “Dojo” space was clean, with boards for sparring, and other weapons and tools to aid in acquiring skills, his home was anything but clean and orderly. The house is the messiest abode I have ever seen. Boots frolic with shirts on the floor, while the kitchen houses an almost constant, overflowing pile of dirty dishes, crusted with week old foodstuffs.
All this being said, the ability inherent in all Dojo to help those find their path is still prevalent in my Sensei’s house, which we sometimes use for training when his neighbor, frustrated with having a Dojo in his back yard, forces us to train indoors, where the noise is less noticeable. The chaotic nature of the house matters not a whit for personal development, as training only involves the people and the tools, and the detritus matters not in the endeavor.
So what is the use of all of this? Who do there need to be various shapes and devices used in Dojos? I have focused only on Karate, but Dojos exist in all forms of Martial Arts. These places, these Dojos, exist to allow us a place to find our path through the world. Since we are all different, and our paths are found in different pursuits, the Dojo changes, filled with the tools and items needed for the users to find their path. The Dojo becomes a reflection of their worldviews, of their minds, and of their souls.
While understanding and conceptualizing a library can be accomplished by visiting one, sitting amongst its stacks of shelves, and reading its books, conceptualizing a Dojo is more difficult, because getting the full feeling of one cannot be accomplished by a simple visit. The environment is too alien, the customs and too strange, the people perhaps too loud or demanding. There is a sense of calm that emanates from your very soul when you experience a proper Dojo. Therefore, I leave you with a meditation. Take a deep breath in through your nose. Breathe in for 4 seconds, hold your breath for 7 seconds, and breathe out for 8 seconds. Remember to breathe out through your mouth. As you breathe, close your eyes. Imagine your breath matches the waves on a beach, as they lap against the shore. The in breath is the water receding from the shore, and the out breath is the water coming back to the shore. Slowly breathe, focusing on your breath, the time, and the waves. Go ahead, do this 5 times, 5 in breaths and 5 out breaths. When you are finished, come back and read.
Do you feel that sense of calm, that stability? That is what it feels like to be in a Dojo.
This entry was originally posted at http://arriad.dreamwidth.org/. Please visit there.
There are small one room Dojos, belying their importance and the amount you can accomplish in them with their almost claustrophobic conditions. Filled with training tools, each tells a story. The size of the Dojo makes one feel overwhelmed when inside, unable to escape the raw emotion present in the training materials, absorbed into them through countless hours of work. These Dojos, born out of necessity in areas where training was either frowned upon or outright outlawed, are still in use today because their Spartan furnishings do not provide distractions from the arduous task of finding oneself. Michael Clarke, a Martial Artist who lives in Australia, has a Dojo attached to his house. The room is sublimely organized, with tools all in their proper place. The tools are in their homes, ready to be used, like books in a library, ready to help the user transcend his location .
There are exceedingly large Dojos, like the Kodokan Judo Dojo in Tokyo Japan. This mammoth 8 story building, a proclaimed “Mecca of International Judo” This Dojo, filled to the brim with Judoka (Judo Practitioners). The top two floors even include a Judo research library! Clearly, for Judo, this place becomes more than a simple Dojo; it encompasses all of what Dojos should be.
And what is it that Dojos should be? What is the “Way” that these “Places” are trying to get us on, what path? With places of such varying size, with various equipment, some with libraries and some without, for what common path could they exist, and what tools are really necessary for the realization of that path?
One of the most basic philosophical questions is this: why are we here? While this question may have occupied prehistoric man’s mind to a limited extent, the needs of survival were of paramount importance, pressing all other concerns t o the fringes of thought. We have divorced ourselves from the quagmire of survival, and allowed our minds a freedom, as far as we know, unique among creatures. There is a price to be paid for such freedom, however. The price has been a surplus of free brain space. This brain space, since the beginning of history, has been dominated by the questions of our origin as a species, and why we exist at all. Why are we the only creatures with higher thinking power and, more importantly, what do we do with this power?
To divorce ourselves from the struggle and whimsical nature of hunter-gatherer survival, we created places and homes. These new technologies allowed us to collect surpluses of food for times when roaming herds of animals were scarce. This, along with other technologies, allowed us to surpass the pure physiological needs. Being faced with new questions, we have created new places, new homes, to help us answer them. Most of the places are religious structures: Temples, Churches, Synagogues, Mosques, and Shrines. We humans make constant trips to these places to understand our greater purpose. While religious spaces are the most oft discussed and recognized, there are other spaces that accomplish similar goals. The Dojo is such a space.
A Dojo is linked directly with study of Martial Arts. To understand their power as spiritual spaces imbued with the ability to transmogrify persons, a quick trip into the history of Martial Arts is in order. The subject itself is as amorphous and nebulous as the study of human culture itself, fitting perhaps, because human histories are defined, by and large, by the wars in which they engage and their worth is dictated by the amount and size of the victories they obtain. A small vignette is in order that, like a small piece of a fractal, embodies all of the elements of the larger work.
One of the world’s most famous Martial Arts is Karate, its ubiquity making it a pseudo-synonym for Martial Arts; much like Coke is for all soda. An art born on the islands of Okinawa, a place between Japan and China, Karate was created to aid the Okinawans in defending their homes from Japanese and Chinese aggression. Their art was taught in family houses, behind closed doors, as the practice of Karate was outlawed by the occupying Japanese quickly after they learned of its existence.
A great exponent of Karate, Gichin Funakoshi, the founder of Shotokan Karate, trained in the smaller, family style dojo of Yasatsune Azato (run out of his own house). He moved from that Dojo to train with other Karate masters, all with small family Dojos. Eventually, Funakoshi, through an exhibition of Karate in Tokyo, implemented Dojos in schools, and created an organization for Karate, the Japan Karate Association, in 1955. The organization he created, like a large Dojo that helps thousands find their Way in the world, accomplished the same goal as the small, family Dojo in which he started on the island of Okinawa. This was Funakoshi’s way of giving the comfort of that family Dojo to the entire country of Japan. In this way, martial arts give comfort and stability to the people who study them.
A few words on my own Dojo. My Sensei (teacher) ran the Dojo out of his home. While the back yard, the “Dojo” space was clean, with boards for sparring, and other weapons and tools to aid in acquiring skills, his home was anything but clean and orderly. The house is the messiest abode I have ever seen. Boots frolic with shirts on the floor, while the kitchen houses an almost constant, overflowing pile of dirty dishes, crusted with week old foodstuffs.
All this being said, the ability inherent in all Dojo to help those find their path is still prevalent in my Sensei’s house, which we sometimes use for training when his neighbor, frustrated with having a Dojo in his back yard, forces us to train indoors, where the noise is less noticeable. The chaotic nature of the house matters not a whit for personal development, as training only involves the people and the tools, and the detritus matters not in the endeavor.
So what is the use of all of this? Who do there need to be various shapes and devices used in Dojos? I have focused only on Karate, but Dojos exist in all forms of Martial Arts. These places, these Dojos, exist to allow us a place to find our path through the world. Since we are all different, and our paths are found in different pursuits, the Dojo changes, filled with the tools and items needed for the users to find their path. The Dojo becomes a reflection of their worldviews, of their minds, and of their souls.
While understanding and conceptualizing a library can be accomplished by visiting one, sitting amongst its stacks of shelves, and reading its books, conceptualizing a Dojo is more difficult, because getting the full feeling of one cannot be accomplished by a simple visit. The environment is too alien, the customs and too strange, the people perhaps too loud or demanding. There is a sense of calm that emanates from your very soul when you experience a proper Dojo. Therefore, I leave you with a meditation. Take a deep breath in through your nose. Breathe in for 4 seconds, hold your breath for 7 seconds, and breathe out for 8 seconds. Remember to breathe out through your mouth. As you breathe, close your eyes. Imagine your breath matches the waves on a beach, as they lap against the shore. The in breath is the water receding from the shore, and the out breath is the water coming back to the shore. Slowly breathe, focusing on your breath, the time, and the waves. Go ahead, do this 5 times, 5 in breaths and 5 out breaths. When you are finished, come back and read.
Do you feel that sense of calm, that stability? That is what it feels like to be in a Dojo.
This entry was originally posted at http://arriad.dreamwidth.org/. Please visit there.