I had my technique ripped to shreds by a teacher the other day. He pointed out every little mistake, and he wasn’t the least bit
gentle. There were no attempts to soften any criticism or to protect my ego.
This was the epitome of “in your face” instruction. Every little point was
picked apart and corrected with almost brutal efficiency and effectiveness.
A lot of people think this sort of instruction
is abusive. That a teacher who does this is harming his students. That such
teacher couldn’t possibly respect his students. Such a person has to be
insecure to treat other people so harshly. That a student should stay far away
from people like this. This kind of teacher is just an abusive jerk, right?
Wrong. While Sensei was ruthless in tearing
apart my technique, he never once came close to stepping over the boundary into
abuse or even being unnecessarily harsh. It was tough, and it’s not easy being
on the end of that kind of criticism, but guess what? That’s why I was there.
I’m in the dojo training so I can improve. I’m not there to show anyone how
great I am or to prove I can beat someone, or to convince the world of
anything. I’m there to learn.
If you’re serious about learning, the best way
to do it is to have a very small ego. Take your ego and pride and desire for
positive recognition and leave it with your shoes by the door. These things
only get in the way of learning. Worse, pride and ego can be downright
dangerous. The worst injury I’ve ever gotten was because I was too proud to
admit my partner was a little better than I was. I pushed too hard and got
injured because of it. It certainly wasn’t my partner’s fault I ended up in
that position.
I have no problem with how this teacher does
things in large part because I’m there for one reason, to improve. Sensei isn’t
gentle, but I learn an incredible amount in a remarkably short time. I park my
ego by the door and step into the dojo with no mental distractions to get
between me and Sensei’s rapid fire deconstruction of what I used to think was pretty
good technique. I’m there to learn and Sensei is not there to waste any time
coddling egos. He is there to train.
There are lots of reasons for being in the dojo
that just get in the way of moving further along the Way of Budo. There’s
the guy who’s out to prove how tough he is. Unfortunately, these guys (they are
almost always guys) are only there to prove how physically tough they are. They
have no interest in showing the mental toughness required to take real, harsh,
tough criticism and tell Sensei “Thank you!” with sincerity.
Then there are the folks who are there to prove
they are better than someone, or everyone. These folks only want to do the
things they’re already good at. If they are working on their weak spots, no one
can see how great they are. Their practice is all about themselves. You have to
be careful because these guys are far more concerned with looking good than
with taking care of their training partners.
People who come to the dojo just to play around
and have fun are annoying because they don’t want to do the hard work of
growing their skills and themselves. There is plenty of time for fun, and the
dojo I love are rich with smiles and laughter. For all that, the best dojo are
filled with people working hard to polish their techniques and grow their
spirit. The laughter in the dojo is wonderful spice added to the rich stew of
effort, sweat, concentration and dedicated training. Students who are primarily
in the dojo for amusement aren’t really students, and they are a distraction to
everyone around them. The world is full of places to amuse yourself and pass
some time, but the dojo should not be one them. Just about anything that gets
you to the dojo is a good reason to me.
I do think the above reasons are perfectly
acceptable reasons for going to the dojo.
The point where things change is when you step onto the dojo floor. Once
you’re in the dojo, there is room for only one purpose; to learn. The dojo is a
place for studying the Way, through whichever particular path you have chosen.
It’s not a place ego, for power struggles, dominance games, silly games or
horsing around.
The dojo is a place for learning and if you are
learning to prove you are better than others, or how demonstrate your personal
excellence, or how to have fun, you’re learning the wrong lessons. Leaving your
ego at the door with your shoes is a difficult lesson to learn, but it’s
fundamental to everything else. If I couldn’t check my ego at the door, I can’t
see any way I would be able to absorb all the lessons Sensei offers. I’d likely
make the mistake of taking Sensei’s critique as a personal attack instead of as
the effort to hammer the weakness out of me and my technique.
After all, budo isn’t just about learning
fighting techniques, its’ not even mainly about learning fighting techniques.
The techniques of budo are tools, but such tools are wasted in the hands of a
fool. Teachers worry more about the mind and spirit of a student than about the
technique. The mind is the most effective, efficient weapon there is. If you’re
not training that in the dojo, what do think you’re learning?
Learning to leave your personal baggage at the
door, whatever that baggage is, is one of the most important and most
fundamental lessons in budo. It’s impossible to make real progress until you
can do that. When your mind is filled with the baggage of ego, or dominance,
even just amusement, there’s no room left for the lessons to be learned in the
dojo. If the only things you’re learning are techniques, you’re not learning
budo.
At the end of practice, what’s the best
compliment you can get? Sensei walks up, slaps you on the shoulder and says
“You worked really hard today.” That’s as good as it gets. The Way
doesn’t have an end. The real question is how we tread the path.
