Several years ago, Mr. Georgiades wrote the following essay, “Consider the Dojo… Consider Yourself,” which addresses an important question for all Judoka. It is well worth revisiting:
I see two very different views of our dojo among those who frequent it. Some regard it as a kind of fitness club, where one pays a monthly fee in exchange for access to the facilities and services in the form of instruction. The other is that a dojo is a place where students with a common interest gather for their mutual benefit. Under the latter view, it is the responsibility of all of the membership. Which is the accurate view today?
Martial arts dojos have traditionally been regarded as very special places. They were at one time adjuncts to temples. The traditional view of a dojo is that it is a place to be respected and well cared for by its users (which is why we remove shoes and hats and do not eat and drink beyond the entryway of the dojo). In every discipline, the dojo was historically supported and managed by the body of students there, as distinct from the master, the owner of the real property, or the senior instruction staff (what in Western Terms might be referred to as “management”). In many styles, it is traditional to conduct a ritual cleansing of the dojo at the end of each training session (called souji, which translates from Japanese as “cleaning”). This serves to reinforce the fact that the dojo is supposed to be supported and managed by the student body, not the school’s instructional staff.
Whether one takes the”fee-for-services” view or the traditional view is, I think a function of how one views one’s own activities there. Are you going there to learn specific skills you can take with you and leave, like learning welding at a trade school? Or are you going there to participate in something larger than yourself?
When I was admitted to our dojo to practice judo, I was thinking in terms of learning skills. It was not long before it struck me that I was being allowed to participate in an established, honorable tradition that stretches back almost 150 years. In turn, it has its roots in arts, philosophies, and traditions that developed over thousands of years. It is a tradition that includes brilliant insights into the physical and psychological nature of man, has included many people of great stature, and has offered untold thousands (and now each one of us) a rare way to see the truth about themselves and, if they wish, to change that truth. Acceptance as part of this tradition is acceptance into something larger than the self.
Acceptance as part of this tradition is acceptance into something larger than the self.
The price of admission is for one to humbly earn his or her place by giving back whatever one can. No judoka has ever advanced without giving to the others; it simply cannot be done. We all learn from those who have gone before us. We repay that not with money; we repay by assisting those who come along behind us. The greater the gift, the greater the responsibility to repay; and the more one repays, the greater the gift. Judo is in this sense a tradition of sharing and responsibility.
In this context, the dojo cannot function other than in the traditional manner. Although no longer part of a temple, the dojo is still a place that exists only because judoka gather there for mutual benefit. If one arrives looking for service he will leave with nothing of value. If one arrives looking to contribute, he opens the way to all Judo has to offer.
If one arrives looking for service he will leave with nothing of value. If one arrives looking to contribute, he opens the way to all Judo has to offer.
This, I think, is why more commercialized martial arts “studios” seem so shallow, vapid and theatric. And this is why we are a club, not a spa. One who does not accept – indeed, welcome – personal responsibility for doing whatever he can to contribute to the care of our dojo, and who allows others to carry his responsibility for him, cheats himself more than his fellows.