This is dojo this morning right before meditation. The space feels full of energy and yet is tranquil. One of my favorite times of the week.
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All posts by sensei.orlando@yahoo.com
4am
Friday morning. My alarm in no uncertain terms informs me that class needs to happen soon. The only thing that makes this better is that its no longer 20 degrees and snowing. By this point I'm actually used to it, or so I tell myself. It all boils down to commitment and integrity, my favorite set of checks and balances. When all else fails, C and I step in quietly to remind you of your word. On some mornings it would be welcome if they slept in.
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First post
The first post in a new blog. It's a space that while influenced by the martial aspect of my life, is not driven by it. This is a space for the more mundane everyday going ons, ruminations, rants and observations. It will be exciting to see where this goes.
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Why not Ichidan?
The term shodan literally means beginning degree, as opposed to the term ichidan which would be translated as first degree. It is a term used to describe the lowest rank of black belt in most modern japanese martial arts. The question I always asked myself was; why isn’t this rank called ichidan? It would be the most appropriate form of address for the first degree rank. Shodan implies that all the basics of the style have been mastered.
What was expressed to me by my sensei when I asked this question was, that once I reached this rank then I was ready to begin training in earnest, hence the name beginning degree. Let’s look at this for a moment. What I was told in essence was that all of the kyu up to and before black belt were basically preparation for the real training that would start once I reached first degree. It did not sit well with me at the time of this revelation that I would invest years of my life only to be called a beginner after attaining my black belt. However, it is typical of many martial arts, that the real training begins after years of learning basics. The problem (which I didn’t see at the time) was that I was approaching my training with a western mentality. I figured, in my youth and with ample doses of hubris, that once I attained the rank of shodan that I would have arrived, right? That upon attaining my shodan some mystical black belt prowess would be conferred upon me and I would have reached IT, the summit.
It was a rude awakening after my shodan promotion. I discovered firstly, no mystical transference of powers took place, much to my chagrin. Then the realization hit me, as a shodan I was expected to train harder, longer, and with more intensity than the kyu who came after me. I was expected to be a model to those who came after me, no longer was I given special consideration; the kid gloves were off, revealing the rock hard fists of serious training. Everything radically shifted overnight. The classes were longer and harder. The only word that comes to mind is grueling. When there was any question in our eyes (it would never dare escape our lips) the only explanation given was, you are shodan now, time to really train. So what were the previous years about getting to this point? Preparation.
The term is shodan because the mindset required at this stage of training is that of a beginner. You have prepared for however long it took you to get here, and now you are ready to truly train. In our school, for a few months before the actual shodan promotion takes place, the student must don a white belt again. This is not a demotion (how can you demote years of training?), but rather a symbolic gesture that prepares the student for the transition to begin yet again. Even though there is a white belt around the waist, the body does not lie. I have had the privilege to wear a white belt in other martial arts. I get questioned during class as to what I have studied before, because it’s apparent. The purpose of the white belt is to tie the belt around the students mind, that no matter the actual belt being tied around the waist, we are always just beginners.
I eventually embraced being shodan. I don’t think I would be where I am if I had not. I was recently informed by a Hachidan (8th degree) who has been teaching longer than I have been alive, that out of every thousand people, one makes it to shodan. I would add that the numbers of those who progress past shodan are just as small, because many become disheartened to learn that black belt is not the summit but rather the base of the mountain. What about all the ranks that preceded shodan? Those are the paths that lead you to the mountain.
Stay on the path, the mountain is usually just around the next bend.
strong spirit-strong mind-strong body
Sensei Orlando
Reverting to Simplicity
I was walking down the sidewalk with my youngest son when he taught me a wonderful lesson. I was occupied in getting to our destination when he stopped. It was fall and the sidewalk was inundated with fallen leaves. He looked down at the multitude of leaves surrounding him, bent down and picked up two. One for me and one for his mommy. I asked him why he didn’t pick one for himself, and he showed me his pocket, which contained an assortment of leaves, acorns and other assorted “treasures”. Evidently he was much wealthier than I in the leaf department. What I learned from this seemingly innocent exchange is that I (like many of us) can get caught up in all the “extras” of life and overlook the simple treasures that surround us.
Some of the greatest pleasures in life are the simplest, a good book vs. one thousand channels. Water over the next super powered drink. Taking a walk as opposed to driving everywhere. The list is quite extensive. We have managed to surround ourselves with so much that we can literally be in a cocoon from life. How many of us have sat down next to our spouses or partners, watched a movie, but not actually speak with each other? In the larger scheme of things which would you weigh as more important, the movie or a great conversation with the person you have chosen to spend your life with.
Yet each day we are constantly rushing and moving towards, always towards something. So much so that we lose the moment we are in. In our training we have to, by nature of the training embrace the simple. Initially we learn the basics and it seems like a daunting task. After the basics are learned, the more advanced techniques are taught, what students learn is that the advanced techniques are built upon the basic simple ones. You must always revert to simplicity.
In our lives this is a worthwhile pursuit, instead of making our lives about the attainment of material things; let’s pare down what exists so we can appreciate the intangibles.
It is now winter, and there are no leaves on the sidewalk, but I still appreciate the one my son stopped to collect so that I can have a reminder to do the same- stop every so often and let loose my sense of wonder.
Live simply.
strong spirit-strong mind-strong body
Sensei Orlando
Why wear a gi?
A few months ago I was a teaching a children’s class when a comment was made to me. The context for the comment was regarding the expediency of getting the children dressed quickly to maximize their training time. The comment went something like “They don’t really need to dress in their uniforms, I mean I know it looks cool, but it’s taking long and it’s not about looks.” I’m paraphrasing and recalling to the best of my ability. At the time, I didn’t lend the statement much weight (I was trying to get a large class in limited time), but the comment stayed with me for some reason. I started to go over why we wear Dogi or Gi for short.
I researched the history of the gi and found that it had originated with judo founder Jigoro Kano, in addition to a multitude of facts. Everything I found still didn’t answer the fundamental question as to why we wear these items of clothing. Was it tradition? What about all the arts that now sport many different colored gi? Are they somehow inferior because they have opted to wear a different color? To this day, I have not found the ability of any martial art practitioner to be contained in the gi, white or otherwise.
So why wear it?
Part of it is tradition; I enjoy wearing a simple white gi. Notwithstanding all the symbolism about white being a color of purity, I have always preferred a white gi. In practical terms, it’s not actually the best color if you are engaged in hard training that involves blood and sweat. It requires another level of diligence on the part of the student in terms of your training – hygiene (no one enjoys training next to an unwashed gi for long).
The other part is that it is unpretentious and I really prefer simplicity. It took some time, but I came to an answer that satisfied my question. As I observed classes filled with students wearing their gi, I found that on the dojo floor we are all the same. When we don a gi we are leaving the outside world, outside. In a very real sense, it’s a ritual we perform when we put on our gi. We are preparing to face ourselves, our shortcomings, insecurities, faults and strengths. It is a physical act that prepares us for a mental shift. I have witnessed the transformation that occurs when a beginner dons a uniform. They may feel uncertain and unsure initially, but they are dressed the same way everyone else is with no difference, and over a short time are comfortable with the multitude of techniques they are being exposed to. The actual word dogi means “way clothes” and it’s what we wear on the path to self perfection.
In regards to the variety of colors and hues now available for gi, I have always felt that changing the uniform severs our links to the time and culture in which our arts were founded. From what I have seen and what has been shared with me, the norm in most Japanese dojos is austere and simple. You don’t see walls covered in trophies, flags, posters or other distractions. I personally find the gi with the flash and multitude of patches to be garish and uncalled for. Let your techniques and bearing speak for you, not your gi.
The gi we wear is a symbol of unity. On the dojo floor, there is no status – only rank. We all train together, sweat together and grow together, irrespective of how much or how little we make, what we do or do not own, or what position we may have in our jobs or careers. On the dojo floor we all share the common trait of the pursuit of self perfection. One of my senior students shared a profound insight with me recently – The dojo is one of the only places where you can just be. Much of that freedom is provided by wearing a garment that initially, appears to suppress your individuality. What you discover over time, is that free from the constraints of external expression you are capable of a deeper form of expression that is not dependent on what you are wearing.
Now when I’m asked by a prospective student “Do I have to train in a uniform?” My simple answer is-yes, you do.
strong spirit-strong mind-strong body
Sensei Orlando
The Commonality of Training
When I first started training, many years ago, the first belt I wore was a white belt.
It signified that I was a beginner, that I had just started my journey. Now many years later and still on the path of my own training and now responsible for the training of others, I can see the factors that tie us all together.
One of the things I learned early on was not to focus on belts or rank. This did not mean you did not respect those higher ranked than you, but rather that ranks were not the goal, nor should they be. I can’t say I fully understood the words of wisdom that were being shared with me at the time by several black belts. I, like so many others had gotten caught up in rank fever.
It’s a condition usually prevalent in the beginning ranks and children who train. What occurs is that the journey is lost and the student becomes fixated on what rank they are and how rapidly they can advance to the next rank. Left unchecked, the student loses sight that training is not about rank and more about the journey itself.
After a few years of this I finally came to the realization that it is not about the rank or belt or stripe, but rather being the best rank I was at the moment. Let me pause here for a moment. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t strive to reach the higher ranks, what it means is being fully present right where you are, the advancement, belts, stripes etc. will come of their own accord if you are diligent and practice being present right where you are.
So what are the commonalities? We all start as beginners. All of us have at one point, been beginners. More importantly, those of us with a few years under our belts would do well to keep the beginner mindset to prevent the onset of ego. After all, what does a belt mean anyway? All it means is that you have been training for X amount of time and that you should know Y material. That is all it means, at its essence. Character or level of maturity is not indicated by the belt around your waist, for those to be seen or experienced you must go beyond the belt to the person wearing the belt.
There are no extraordinary powers conferred upon you when you don a black belt much to the surprise of the many students who achieve shodan (Shodan literally means “beginning degree” and is the subject for another post) each year. What you do discover upon reaching black belt or any of the senior ranks is that now you have a responsibility towards those who are on the path after you. Rather than lord it over your juniors, your purpose is to serve them in any way that you can, not the other way around. Unfortunately there are training halls where this relationship is skewed and the meaning lost. In a school devoid of ego this will never be cause for concern, since the seniors will remember that they too were white belts or beginners and empathize with what the white belts are going through.
The other major commonality is that we are all human beneath our gi. We may have some differences in the way we train, but we all sweat, train, and bleed on the dojo floor together. We all have setbacks and successes on our path of training. The important thing to remember is that we are not the first to go through this, and more importantly that we are not the last.
strong spirit-strong mind-strong body
Sensei Orlando
What is Budo Karate?
Budo is a compound of the root bu meaning war or martial and do meaning path or way. Specifically, do comes from the sanskrit word marga (meaning the path to enlightenment) The term refers to the concept of creating propositions, subjecting them to philosophical examination and then following a “path” to realize them. Do signifies a way of life. Do in the Japanese context, is an experiential term, experiential in the sense that practice (the way of life) is the norm to verify the validity of the discipline cultivated through a specific art form. Within modern budo (Gendai budo) there exists no external enemy, only the enemy within, our own ego which must be fought. Bujutsu, very similar to Budo is a compound of bu and jutsu. Budo is translated as the way of war or “martial way” while bujutsu can be translated as the science of war or “martial craft.” Budo and bujutsu have a subtle difference. Bujutsu focuses on the physical aspect of fighting (what is the best way to defeat an opponent), while budo gives attention to the mind and how one should perfect oneself.
According to karate master Gogen Yamaguchi:
Budo did not originate in a peaceful atmosphere. In was necessary to protect one’s life at the time, and to learn how to use Budo as a weapon and achieve one’s responsibility as a warrior. It was the warriors duty to develop spirit. It was necessary to obtain technique to protect oneself, and one had to have a strong spirit to correspond to that.
Mas Oyama was quoted as saying:
Karate is the most Zen like of all the Martial arts. It has abandoned the sword. This means that it transcends the idea of winning and losing to become a way of thinking and living for the sake of other people. Its meanings therefore, reach the profoundest levels of human thought. For a long time I have emphasized that karate is Budo, and if the Budo is removed from karate, it is nothing more than sport karate, show karate or even fashion karate-the idea of training merely to be fashionable. Karate that has discarded budo has no substance. It is nothing more than a barbaric method of fighting or a promotional tool for the purpose of profit. No matter how popular it becomes, it is meaningless.
So what is Budo Karate?
For me Budo karate is karate that has cast off the focus on the superficial, to go deeper into the character of the practitioner. It is karate that cultivates spirit and a strength of being that overcomes all obstacles, in and out of the dojo. It means training as if your life depended on it. Let me reiterate and clarify. Training as if your life depended on it does not mean you can quit because you are tired, or bored or even exhausted. It doesn’t mean that you need to spice up the routine because it’s so drab and can use some much needed flair. It means having an intensity to your way of training and life. It means honoring your commitments (and your word) in and out of the dojo. Budo karate is a way of life that demands your all when you are on the floor, and proposes that you live your life fully present in every moment.
Budo Karate is not romanticized and in fact is not what may be considered attractive. It requires you to delve in deep and face yourself, your fears, your insecurities,and your inadequacies, and to continue to reach for perfection despite it all. It means tears and doubt, with the certainty that if you continue, you will be transformed. It means being on the path of the mountain realizing that you will never reach the summit. Budo Karate is not for everyone, many are content with a martial art that does not go deep into the character of the practitioner, and that’s fine also.
On a another level and in the context of when karate started, Budo (and Budo karate), usually meant life and death confrontations. Not many of us train as if our lives depended on it. In many minds, training in a dojo is no different from going to the gym. There is however a vast difference. The training in a gym while it may transform your body, usually has little or no impact on your character and way of being. The transformation that occurs in a dojo, happens because the circumstances are vastly different. You are confronted with yourself, your ego and you can not run from it.
Training this way (as if your life depended on it) adds another dimension to what may be an otherwise regular training session. When this mindset is in place, we are fully present in the moment, appreciating everything we can do and have. Nothing is wasted and our desire to learn and grow increases. The maxim “Train as if it is your last day” applies here. It directly translates to how we live our lives. If we regarded each day as if it were our last, it would radically alter how we spent our days, and what activities we deemed” important” or relevant.
Budo karate is a rare occurrence and many schools do not advocate this kind of training because it is not mainstream and does not appeal to the general populace. When it does it exist, it is something to be appreciated and continued.
We should all strive to live our days as if it were our last one.
strong spirit-strong mind-strong body
Sensei Orlando
Martial Art or Martial Way?
I have been asked on several occasions what kind of Martial Art do we study? For some reason the question has always made me pause, not because I don’t study a martial art (as loosely defined by society) but because I have never equivocated my training with an art. I have never viewed myself as a martial artist but rather a follower of a Way. I have always felt that the term martial artist lends itself to open interpretations and falls victim to what most people perceive to be the disciplines practiced by those of us that have chosen to practice or follow the path of martial ways. These opinions are usually fuelled (erroneously) by the media and the entertainment industry.
Many reading this may feel it is a matter of semantics, and I have found in my own personal experience that unless a person is actively pursuing a discipline, all of them get lumped together under an umbrella of “it’s just kicking and punching – so it must all be the same.”
So what is a martial art ? The term martial art is used to loosely describe the many combative systems and sports that exist here in the West. If we examine them closely however, we will discover that they are not all truly martial in nature or arts for that matter. The literal sense of the term martial, implies that it must have a military application, and historically many of the combative systems that exist today have their roots in systems that were used in military settings.
The same can be said for those systems that were developed by the “civilian” populace (like Karate) and many of the combative systems were employed in military and paramilitary settings. For this reason I think the literal definition is too limiting. In fact many of the “civil” arts are part of the curricula for the military forces today.
The real difference is found when a combative system makes the transition to combat sport. I find that one of the stark contrasts is that within the realm of “sport” there are rules and a framework to contain those rules. What may work on the tournament/arena floor, can be completely ineffective in an actual combat situation. The danger then becomes a false feeling of preparedness. A sport practitioner may feel they are practicing a martial art but they may be mistaken. It is certainly not a martial way, but if that isn’t, then what is?
In order to shed some light on this term (martial way) we need to go to the Japanese terms of bugei and bujutsu – both which mean literally “martial art” and the term budo (martial way). Where a practitioner of a bujutsu system is focused on learning how to prevail and succeed in combat, a budo practitioner has embarked on a system of physical, mental and spiritual discipline to in order to perfect his character and self. This is not to say the bujutsu systems do not require physical, mental, and spiritual discipline, but it is not their focus. Several of my instructors and Sensei have taught me that to achieve the “do” you have to enter through the “jutsu“. Which means that while a system or art may be effective as a fighting system it needs to have the components both jutsu and do to be effective. Too much in either direction can lead to imbalance.
So which should you pursue? Only you can answer that question. Yes I know I sound very much like those teachers who answer a question with a question. The truth of the matter is that we each come to the Martial Arts for unique reasons, be it confidence, discipline, learning to fight etc. I can only say that personally for me the Martial Way is a way a living. Which is why I say, when asked, that I practice Budo or budo karate (which is a subject for another post).
What I do and I hope encourage my students to do, is live in way that reflects a life of discipline and pursuit of excellence not just in the dojo or training hall but in life. My training is not just something I “do” on certain days of the week. It is not interchangeable with other activities, because its a way of living, not an activity I just engage in. It means sacrifice at times, hard work and perseverance.
So distilled to its essence, a martial art is something you endeavour to do and become proficient at, while a martial way is a method of living. They are not mutually exclusive although at times it may seem to be the case. In fact, they are and can be two halves of a whole. Strive to maintain balance in the do or Tao (from the Chinese) and the jutsu.
strong spirit-strong mind-strong body
Sensei Orlando
The Power of Sharing
Space, the final frontier…even for those of us that are not Star Trek fans will recognize those words. Back in 1966 there was a show that was ahead of its time. Many of us were children and even more of us were not even born. This show despite its themes, developed a following. When it was threatened with cancellation in its second season (it only had three seasons), it was the power of sharing (through a massive letter writing campaign, today it would be through blogs and email) that brought it back for a third. Had it not been for this power of sharing we may never have heard of this show that has become a part of our culture and has generated numerous spin offs and several feature films, cementing for all time the original cast members in the annals of television history. So why am I sharing this with you? There are many times that we fail to realize the power we possess when we share. Those of us who have worked with sales or in sales realize the power of referral, but what does it mean really, the referral? Isn’t it just another form of sharing? You were pleased with a product or service that you just had to tell your friends or family, in essence you had to share. We have all been to a fantastic restaurant, the service was amazing, the ambiance perfect, the meals succulent. Our experience was so incredible that we rave about it to our friends, family, and even strangers that may ask us about a good place to eat.
On a deeper level we share ourselves with our families, children, and spouses. By sharing ourselves we impart those people in our lives a glimpse of who we really are. We make ourselves vulnerable, but we also form strong bonds, we become a community.
When we decided to start a martial art school, it wasn’t on a whim. The reason was because I had and have Sensei who have shared themselves with me. With that sharing came a responsibility to pass on the knowledge that was given to me. Within their sharing was an implicit message: “To keep what I am sharing with you, to yourself, is being stingy and selfish. Find a way to share what I am sharing with you.”
Amazingly, we have a habit of being stingy and selfish, especially with ourselves. We don’t celebrate our accomplishments with those closest to us, we don’t let others acknowledge us, many times we don’t accept that we have transformed, in many cases drastically and positively.
So what should we do? If you have something positive and good in your life, share it with others.
I recently had a parent tell me about how great their children are doing in the school, naturally I was pleased. In fact in many cases I’m just as pleased as the parents because, like I tell all the parents, once your children join our school, they are my children too. In my discussion with these parents an interesting comment was made. They were so excited about our school they told me they were “preaching” to everyone about us. After giving it some thought, I realized this is what we do when we have something good (or bad) in our life, we preach to others about our experiences. In other words we share.
I also realized something else, almost everyone in our school has done the same, shared about us to someone else. It’s a telling indicator, that when we have something positive in our life and we are not sharing it with others, then we are veering into being selfish. You will find that if you are being selfish in one area of your life, it impacts other areas. At its core this selfishness creates an state of scarcity that can influence every aspect of your life.
So how to correct this state? Share. Share of yourself, share those things that are positive in your life. Share with everyone, those close to you and strangers as well. When you share this way you will find that people will be just as willing to share and give of themselves to you.
strong spirit-strong mind-strong body
Sensei Orlando