A divisive presence in the dojo — 最も成熟し、人身攻撃を抑えた表現：「道場内に分断をもたらす存在」。
Many years ago, I heard an older Japanese
sensei use the expression “Kendo Gipsy.” At the time, I wasn’t quite sure what
he meant.
As the years went by, and after seeing
people come and go from different dojo, I began to understand it a little
better.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with
visiting other dojo. In fact, degeiko is an important part of kendo. Training
with different people, learning from different sensei and experiencing
different ways of practising can open our eyes and help us grow.
You can train in many places and still have
strong roots.
For me, the real meaning of “Kendo Gipsy”
is not about how many dojo someone has trained at. It is more about whether
they ever allow themselves to truly belong somewhere.
Sometimes people move dojo for perfectly
good reasons. Their teacher may move away. A club may close. Circumstances
change. Sometimes a person simply has to keep looking until they find somewhere
that feels right.
That is very different from constantly
moving on whenever things become difficult, whenever somebody disagrees with
us, or whenever we are asked to accept responsibility or discipline.
A dojo is not simply a sports hall where we
turn up, put on bogu, hit each other for a couple of hours and then go home.
Over time, it becomes something much more
than that.
We help beginners. We practise with people
who are struggling. We learn from our seniors. We become motodachi for others.
We celebrate each other’s gradings and victories, and sometimes we help one
another through disappointment and failure.
Little by little, trust grows.
And that trust can take years to build.
That is why the idea of 和— wa, harmony is so important.
Harmony does not mean everyone has to agree
with each other.
Of course we will have different opinions.
Different sensei may teach things in slightly different ways. We all have
different personalities, backgrounds and experiences.
That is normal.
But disagreement does not have to become
division.
We can learn from more than one teacher
without using one teacher’s words against another. We can question things
without becoming disrespectful. We can leave a dojo if we genuinely need to,
without trying to damage the place we are leaving behind.
There is a Japanese expression:
道場の和を乱す人
Dōjō no wa o midasu hito
A person who disturbs the harmony of the
dojo.
I think this is something worth reflecting
on as we become more senior in kendo.
Our kendo is not only shown by how well we
strike men, kote or dō.
It is also shown by how we treat the people
around us.
Do we help the juniors?
Do we respect those who came before us?
Do we support our training partners?
Do we make our dojo a better place by being
there?
Or do we slowly make it more difficult for
everyone else?
Sometimes somebody may feel that they have
never really had roots in kendo. Perhaps teachers moved away, clubs changed, or
circumstances meant they had to start again several times.
I don’t think that makes them a “Kendo
Gipsy”.
Sometimes it simply means they never had
the chance to put their roots down properly.
And perhaps that is the most important
point.
Roots are not only something we inherit.
Sometimes they are something we build together.
A dojo may have history, tradition and
lineage, but its future still depends on the people who are standing on the
floor today.
If those people can practise sincerely,
support each other, respect the past and protect the harmony of the dojo, then
even something that has become scattered can grow strong again.
In the end, perhaps there is one simple
question we can all ask ourselves:
“Am I helping to build this dojo, or am I slowly pulling it apart?”
Grades will come and go.
Medals will eventually sit in a drawer.
But the people we helped, the friendships
we built, and the dojo we leave behind for the next generation may be a much
bigger part of our kendo than we realise.
