What we do in the dojo needs to be as real as we can possibly (and safely) make it. It’s Budo. It is not a sport. It is not a game. It is an activity where we practice the very serious art of controlled violence where mistakes have consequences and even the little things can often be critical so everyone’s head must always be on straight. The quantum 8-dimensional algorithm may therefore be stated as:
PIE (Physical, Intellectual, Emotional) ………….. R (Reigisaho) Squared.
Reigisaho can be considered many times more important than simple PIE. PIE can be looked at as how “teachable” a student is (a measurement of their capacity and potential so-to-speak). R (Reigisaho) can be looked at as “how seriously” that student views the training and whether they develop the proper mental attitude to understand that the dojo (and indeed Budo) are not sports nor are they games. Reigisaho should then be looked at as R-Squared. Maybe even R-Cubed and beyond. That is how important Reigisaho is to the life of a dojo and to its’ existence in the Budo-Verse.
A dojo, if one pauses to consider, is an unrealistic and impractical idea; a waste in the business sense of unoccupied space and underutilized facilities since 24/7 classes are impossible. Many Sensei have described the dojo in their own fashion so there are many ways to consider the idea of the existence of such a place. A place of competition? No. A place of combat? No. A place of pure contemplation? No. A place of self-realization and enlightenment? No. An institution of learning? No. A place of social discourse? No.
What then?
It is not a gymnasium, a sports bar, a church, a social club, a rec center, a temple or monastery, a beer or dance hall, a business or a corporation. Some Sensei have used the term “sacred place” although that term while more complete than others, is still insufficient. It’s not even a school although most of the advertising one sees describes it as such because the normal Western civilian is simply unable to grasp the idea that it is something beyond a mere “school” per se.
It is also not a “physical” place. Yes; it has walls, roof, floors, and other structures that one can walk into and “be” within, but a dojo is more a mental and spiritual state of being than of mere body. Yes; the dojo is a physical manifestation of the ideals of Budo, and a dojo is said to absorb the “energy” of those who train and spend time there to the point that a sensitive can enter and “feel” those energies. A Dojo however is better considered a larger existence with all other descriptive possibilities attaching themselves to that one point; a locus as-it-were.
We all work and struggle and rejoice and suffer in our efforts to prosper or just to survive in our society with its emphasis on achievement, money, politics, etc. so the dojo becomes an offset to that life-battle. It becomes a space that exists for our larger selves, and that space is energized by us going beyond the binary yes-no, win-lose idea. The dojo needs several things that create, support, and maintain its “being”. Those are within the overall encompassing aspects of Reigisaho.
There is a widely told teaching story in Budo concerning kendo and kickboxing. A high-level championship shiai is held and when the winner is declared there are two differing reactions. In the kendo match the facial expression of the winner and of the loser both remain the same with no real emotion. The winner is the one who first bows (to the loser) to show his respect for the efforts made by him. The respect from each to each is obvious. In the kickboxing match when the winner is declared, the winner begins to raise his hands in the air, jump up and down and beat his chest as-if to gloat and disrespect the loser. Two different reactions. Two different personalities. Only one understands.
When we train in controlled violence we have to “over-respect” our training partner who is giving us permission to do things to them that contains the possibles of maiming or killing someone who is not trained; or who is poorly trained or just sloppy and unobservant. In Aikido and Judo when we throw someone into the floor they survive intact only because they have been taught and have learned how to relax, react, and respond. Despite their understanding and knowing their side of the Budo-equation (you throw …. I react and protect myself) there is still danger involved and showing respect maintains an attitude within you that reflects your appreciation for their working with you that will cause you to slow down or hold back to ensure that they can “get down” (to the mat) or not break or dislocate anything.
Many people are ejected from a dojo. I’ve ejected more than a small handful myself over the years because they just seem unable to respect and protect their training partner and seem to not understand that they are in a dojo, not a high school debate club. They claim that they are only “just making sure it works against someone resisting”; a ridiculous claim at any level. They act as if the dojo is not a special space and as if Sensei and the Sempai can be argued with and debated illustrating their lack of understanding of the serious nature of training in Budo and their ignoring the idea that Sensei and the other Sempai might have a different viewpoint on the important issues at hand; those viewpoints being based in the fact that Sensei might literally have more years on the mat than the kohai has been alive.
A matter of perspective but an important one.
If we are training properly, if we have good teachers, if we pay attention, then we should realize that the repetitive practice we are engaged in is designed to exploit the opponent’s weaknesses. Soft repetition gives us feedback that we cannot sense or understand if we are using power and speed. That soft repetition sometimes means that the technique fails on occasion BUT WE MUST understand that it is failing against another player that is likely at the same level of ability that we are. That means that even if it failed against another highly skilled player that it would work against an unskilled civilian (non-martial artist) who has none of the highly trained reactions and skill sets a trained player has.
This distinction means that to develop skill we must have someone who we can work with repeatedly over a long period of time. Doing simple things like bowing before, during, and after the keiko shows the respect due to a fellow player and show that we appreciate their working with us, and that we will show our appreciation by not trying to inflict injury by “testing” the technique, or ignore Sensei and “fly by the seat of our pants”, a cute phrase to describe someone not following directions and inventing their own variations. In most forms of Budo, this “free-style” training and ignoring Sensei is itself a dangerous form of disrespect. Sensei is working to keep training safe and by consciously disregarding Sensei (not respecting his directions) the student can do something dangerous that results in injury.
In the end, reigisaho is simultaneously respect and an adjustment of our attitude and how we relate to and work with others as we train in controlled violence.
L.F. Wilkinson Kancho
The Aikibudokan
Houston, TX
October 30, 2019
Great post. Thanks!
Posted by: Rick Matz | October 31, 2019 at 07:48 AM