The Dojo Desk Reference describes a Dojo as a place to learn the Way. (Sakiyama, 2006) Therefore, while the dojo may resemble a gymnasium, its historical inspiration, literally and aesthetically, is that of a temple or shrine. The word itself is Buddhist in origin. Do, of course, refers to a ” Way,” a discipline, or art. A dojo, then, is a place for following the Way. (Lowry, 2006) There is a Buddhist saying that “any place can be a dojo, ” and that is a saying that anyone who wants to follow the way of karate must never forget. (Funakoshi, 1984) On a deeper level, the martial arts and Ways of Japan are most intimately concerned with matters of the spirit and not just physical training. (Lowry, 2006)
A student, in Japanese, is a gakusei. It is a word that is usually used to denote those enrolled in some formal educational institution, from kindergarten to graduate school. For the traditional arts, the student is more apt to be called a deshi. It’s written with the characters for ” younger brother” and “child. ” The implication is that the student is more than just a body in a classroom, more than simply a person in search of learning some skill or art. Deshi implies one is part of a family or at least seeks to join. There is something less formal about the word deshi in comparison with gakusei, something altogether appropriate within the context of the traditional budo. Shoshinsha is another word- a ” person with a beginning mind” – that can describe the new student. The wise student remains a shoshinsha all during his training in the martial Ways, always with a mind that is ready to learn more and always ready to accept that he has not seen it all, no matter how much experience and talent he may gain. (Lowry, 2006) No matter when you start yo ur tenure in a martial Way, you can be assured that it was much, much tougher in ” the old days,” that period being most accurately defined as a couple of years before you came along. (Lowry, 2006)
From the moment you enter a dojo as a student, you enter a hierarchy. Those who have come before you, even if it is only a day before you, are your senpai. The Dojo Desk Reference defines senpai as the senior man or the one who came before. This is pronounced as sempai. (Sakiyama, 2006) Two kanji are used to write the word; the first refers to something that came previously. It’s the same sen as in sensei. The second, pai or hai, means “comrade.” Anyone who comes to the dojo after you have begun your training is your kohai. The second kanji for kohai is the same as in senpai; the first means “co min g after.” The senpai is the senior man and the kohai the junior man in a senpai/kohai relationship (Sakiyama, 2006 ). On the odd chance that you commence your training on the same day as someone else, you will each be dohai to one another. (The do in the word is “the same” or “equal.”) For the most part, though, everyone in the dojo will be either your junior or your senior. (Lowry, 2006) The more advanced student, or the older, wiser person, is expected to guide and nurture the lower-ranking student. Should the kohai eventually surpass the senpai in technical ability, rank, or social status, the original kohai/senpai relationship between them continues to exist. Once you are someone’s senpai, you are always their senpai. Similar to the western idea of a godfather figure, the senpai is charged with the responsibility over the utu, or yo younger brother. (Sakiyama, 2006 )
The conventions of senpai/kohai are often explained in terms of upper and lower classmates in a school or the relationships between juniors and seniors in the work environment. In some ways, they are just that simple. In others, the senpai/kohai concept is far more complex and defies any kind of easy explanation. Except under unusual circumstances, one does not actually refer to another as his senpai or kohai in addressing him. They might say, ” Bob is my senpai,” but they would not approach him and say “Sempai, can you help me?” as though the title were a form of address. Senpai I kohai has its roots in the Confucian forms of social interaction that guided much of Japanese life for centuries. (Lowry, 2006)
If someone is your senpai, he is your senpai for the rest of your life. Whatever happens along the way can never change that relationship. A senpai could quit his training a month after you begin and be gone from the dojo for the next decade. If he showed up again and you were still training and had been all that time, to be sure you would be technically superior to him, it makes no difference. He would still be your senpai and would still expect you to defer to him. (Lowry, 2006)
In a good dojo, there are no equals, only seniors and juniors. When you feel pain, it must never be ” Sam ” or “Bill” that caused it. If it was caused by your senior, even if he was but a single day more your senior, you say, ” He did that to teach me something.” If it was done to you by someone who was your junior, you say. ” He did that accidentally. It is my responsibility to ensure that he learns how to repeat it at will with perfect control.” The formality helps to keep personalities out of the Dojo. There are only students and instructors, juniors and seniors, masters and disciples. (Lovret, 1981) A junior, working with a senior, is tempted to think too much. His perceptions are loaded with doubts about his own abilities or exaggerated estimations of them; all these sorts of ideas will clog the free flow of his technique. Instead, he should focus, when working with a more skilled opponent in the dojo, on one thing: what can this sort of training teach me? He should get rid of his ego, his worries about performing well, or his pride in having done so, and simply learn. Be open to what the senior is trying to show you, both in his explicit instruction and in the more subtle, implicit lessons he’s demonstrating. When you are facing a senior, your first priority must be to learn from him. When you are training with a junior, you must be careful not to overwhelm him or to present such an intimidating opposition that he is discouraged. (Lowry, 2006)
Both in Japan and outside the country, the senpai / kohai relationship ca n be expressed in unhealthy ways. Sometimes it emerges as something rather like that of a social fraternity where active members make the lives of pledges m isera ble, hazing them, ordering them about, usin g their seniority as an excuse to engage in behavior that often is brutal. (Lovret, 1981) Any se nior who regularly injures juniors is incompetent and does not deserve to wear a black obi and any school which allows this to occur does not have the slightest idea of what Bujutsu is all about. A senior is supposed to be able to hurt a beginner. He is also supposed to be spiritually advanced enough not to have to prove this ability. (Lovret, 1982)
Reishiki, or rituals of etiquette (Sakiyama, 2006) is designed for the benefit of the junior, not for the senior toward whom it is generated. Each act of Reishiki should generate a certain mental ‘set’ in the student, and if this does not occur, which is the case more often than not, the entire purpose of the act has been lost. Take, for example, the act of bowing as you enter the dojo. What is supposed to happen is that, as you do this, you banish all thoughts of the outside world from your mind. In other words, you clear your mind in order to be able to concentrate fully on what you are about to do. As the Zen master said, you are “Emptying your cup”. The reverse is true of the bow when you leave the dojo. At this point, you should be mentally easing off. You reorient yourself to the outside world so you don’t cripple the first person who makes an unexpected move. This, then, is the true purpose of all Reishiki; to generate a mental attitude within the student which will allow him to learn a technique at the maximum rate and then execute it with the maximum efficiency. Mistaking the bowing as nothing more than an oriental-style form of courtesy, the vast majority of students miss the entire purpose of it. In actuality, the courtesy aspects of Reishiki are its least important points. Bow more fully to those who are senior to you in the dojo. (Lowry, 2006)
Karate-do is not only the acquisition of certain defensive skills but also the mastering of the art of being a good and honest member of society. (Funakoshi, 1984) In his book Karate-Do, My Way of Life, Funakoshi stated, “One of the things that I always tell my new students is that he who thinks about himself alone and is inconsiderate of others is not qualified to learn Karate-Do. Serious students of the art, I have discovered, are always highly considerate of one another. They also demonstrate the great steadfastness of purpose that is essential if one is to continue studying karate over the long periods of time that is required. ” (Funakoshi, 1984) Funakoshi has written six rules (of which there are only actually five) about which he states the “strict observation of these is absolutely essential for any man desirous of understanding the nature of the art.” Rule number six is to abide by the rules of ethics in your daily life, whether in public or private. He says this is a principle that demands the strictest observance. (Funakoshi, 1984)
In Japan, sensei as a title is used with some regularity. In the dojo, the word is usually reserved for the person who is the senior instructor. In a large training hall, there might be senior students whose duties may include some instruction, but they are generally not called sensei. That title is reserved for the person at the very top. All others may be thought of as seniors or instructors-in-training. (Lowry, 2006) The sensei is the boss. The dojo is not and can never be a democracy. The sensei must be the leader in the sense of serving as a technical model for others. He is, properly, the only source of instruction. Approach a sensei with, “Well, I read a book that said you were supposed to do the technique this way.” “Fine,” you will be told. “Go study with that book or this So-and-so.” When you come to the dojo, it is a recognition that the teacher there has something you want. He will give it to you in his own way. You must accept that. If you do not, you are free to leave. The dojo, however, is never run by consensus. (Lowry, 2006) Indeed, some students come into the dojo as if they were checking into a popular health spa or a four-star hotel. This attitude quickly disappears, however, when they have to get on their hands and knees and clean the mats after every practice. (Furuya, 1996)
Centuries ago, aspiring students spent years searching for a competent teacher. Today, it’s as easy as opening the yellow pages and letting your fingers do the walking. At the same time, teachers have more problems running a martial arts academy than ever before. The bulk of these problems are linked to the realities of “business overhead” in a commercially competitive society. Because of these pressures, our values have changed greatly. Teachers must now expect less from students, and students expect quite a bit more from their teacher – or off they go, shopping around for the next school with more to offer. Ultimately, we become so concerned with receiving more and more that we lose sight of the actual process of training and learning. (Furuya, 1996) If your abilities are less than you desire, don’t blame the school. An instructor can show you how to do a technique, but then it is up to you. No matter how good he is, long hours of individual practice are required to achieve mastery. (Lovret, 1981). If you are not involved in the budo for the long haul – if you are in the dojo only because you want to get a black belt or for some other easily achievable goal – then you aren’t going to last long. (Lowry, 2006)
As a student, a person at the gate, the idea that there isn’t going to be a graduation or a goal to be reached may be the most important lesson for you to learn. It is a difficult one to really absorb. We say that we are engaged in following a Way. We follow our Ways because they are, in the Japanese vernacular, boku michi – “our way.” We cannot imagine not following the paths along which they have led us. At that point, some might consider us as having “mastered” our budo. We have not. What we have done is gone through the gate. We have become students. (Lowry, 2006)
Bibliography
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Furuya, K. , 1996. Kodo Ancient Ways, Lessons in the Spiritual Life of the Warrior/Martial Artist. First ed.
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Lovret, F. J., 1981. Editorial. The Bujin, March, p. 3.
Lovret, F. J., 1981. Shoshinsha. The Bujin, November, p. 7.
Lovret, F. J., 1982. Editorial. The Bujin, October, p. 1.
Lovret, F. J ., 1982. Reishiki. The Bujin, April, pp. 28 – 33.
Lo wry, D., 2006. In The Dojo; A Guide to the Rituals and Etiquette of the Japanese Martial Arts. Boston, Massachusetts: Shambhala Publications. Inc ..
Sakiyama, A., 2006. The Dojo Desk Reference, A Translation of Hyaku Jiten no Bugei. Translated by Don
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