What Puts the “Tao” in the Dojo?
Part 1
By Dave Lowry
Editor’s Note: This is first of a two part article. Part 1 discusses
the design and structure of the traditional martial arts dojo and relates
it to traditional etiquette and its meaning. Part 2, delves into the
hidden Taoist symbolism and additional meaning found embedded within
the same dojo layout.
Like practitioners of any Japanese art or way, aikidoka are not into
there discipline for long before they discover that what is visible,
readily observed, or easy to understand is like the proverbial tip of
the iceberg. Inevitably, concealed beneath the surface, are profundities
of the sort never even guessed at by the casual observer or the uninitiated.
Like practitioner of any Japanese art or way, aikidoka are not into
their discipline for long before they discover that what is visible,
readily observed, or easily understood is like the proverbial tip of
the iceberg. Inevitably, concealed beneath the surface, are profundities
of the sort never even guessed at by the casual observer or the uninitiated.
The deeper meaning beneath the superficial is a recurrent theme in traditional
Japanese culture. In the art of garden design, it is actually given a
name, hiegakure, which means "that hidden from ordinary sight." The
average shlub strolls through a Japanese garden gawking at the sights,
entirely unaware of the paths beneath his feet. To the connoisseur, however,
these same paths offer a lifetime of study and appreciation. Here the
paths are smooth, hurrying one along. There, the stones are rough, irregular,
or stepped, causing the visitor to slow down, something planned by the
garden's designer, who may have wanted visitors to pause at a certain
point.
The concept of hiegakure can be applied to budo (the martial Ways).
To the beginner for example, shomen uchi ikkyo begins with a chopping
motion which is countered by an arm twist. To the expert, the same strike
and counter are wonderfully complex positive energies that exemplify
the essence of the universe.
The dichotomy of the obvious and the subtle can be found (or missed),
not only in the arts practiced in the dojo, but also in the setup of
the dojo (the training hall) itself.
Understandably the cultural model unconsciously adopted by contemporary
Western budo practitioner in creating a dojo is that of the gym--a reasonable
model, since on the surface the budo represent physical activity. On
a deeper level, though, as most of us know, the martial Ways of Japan
are most intimately concerned with matters of the spirit. Therefore,
while the dojo may resemble a gymnasium, its historical inspiration is
that of a temple or shrine.
Walk into a gym-type dojo, and there will be little aside perhaps from
a carelessly fashioned shomen ("ritual alcove"), to distinguish
it from an aerobics classroom. I remember visiting an aikido dojo in
which the toilets and dressing rooms were actually behind the shomen
or "front" wall, which is supposed to be the most honored and
respected part of the training area. (Was it just coincidence that this
dojo was the coldest, most unfriendly place I've ever practiced at?)
Arranged along the lines of a building meant for spiritual or religious
exercises, the traditional dojo is divided geometrically into a complex
matrix.
The shomen is the dojo's front wall--the wall on which the kamiza,
or dojo shrine, sits. Opposite is the shimoza wall, where the dojo entrance
is located. To the right is the joseki (the "upper lateral wall");
to the left, the shimoseki or lower side wall.
Traditionally, there is an elevated shinden space against the kamiza
wall --a space where once the headmaster of the art being studied would
sit as would any members of the Japanese imperial family who might drop
by. This is, therefore, a largely symbolic elevated space reserved only
for the founder of the ryu ("style") or an imperial family
member. (Recently, the American planners of a dojo in a Japanese-American
community center decided to make the shinden "stage" bigger
in order to "go one better than traditional floor plans." A
competent martial arts practitioner on a planning committee pointed out
the mistake and explained what a kamiza meant to the architects before
the dojo was built.
When class begins, dojo members align themselves in order of seniority
from joseki to shimoseki. Also, in a traditional dojo, senior practitioners
will stay to the right of the dojo's centerline, nearer the joseki, when
training. Juniors train on the other, shimoseki side. The receiver of
a technique will most often position himself with his back to the kamiza
while the nage or shidachi begins facing it.
Traditional etiquette also specifies such details as the appropriate
foot with which to begin approaching or leaving the kamiza and the direction
to turn first in moving about the training area.
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Tamura Masakazu demonstrates
aikido at the Hawai'i Aikikai Hombu dojo.
(Photo by Wayne Muromoto.) |
What purpose do these formalities serve? What is to be gained by an
awareness and observance of such arcane ritual?
In the past, traditional dojo architecture and the associated reishiki
(etiquette) had at least three functions: First, the placement of the
sensei at the front, seniors on the right, and juniors on the left afforded
the teacher maximum protection from an intruder. (Remember that the central
weapon of the bugei ("martial arts") was the sword, which was
carried on the left side and used with the right hand leading.) Second,
the arrangement shielded the teacher's instruction from those who might
peer through the dojo's entrance. Third, the arrangement reflected certain
Buddhist worship rituals.
All these functions are easily deducible. But is there hiegakure in
all this? In other words, is there something to the dojo's layout and
etiquette that is hidden? I suspect that there might be.
Part 2 of this two part series delves into the possible Taoist symbolism
imbedded into the same dojo layout and structure.
About The Author:
Dave Lowry is a writer and historian specializing in Japan
and traditional Japanese culture. He has been a student of the modern
and classical martial disciplines of Japan since 1968 - including karate,
aikido, the bo and kenjitsu. His columns have appeared for years in a
variety of martial arts magazines and he is also an accomplished calligrapher.
His books include "Sword and Brush - The Spirit of the Martial Arts" and "Autumn
Lightning: The Education of an American Samurai". He is a regular
contributor to FightingArts.com.
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