When I was a boy, I practiced judo. Before class, the sensei, Vic Hunt, would always wash his feet before class in the dressing room. I was puzzled. It seemed the opposite of athletes hitting the showers after hard workout.
Years later, I read the marvelous memoir about karate in Tokyo, Moving Zen, by C W Nicol. He wrote of two Canadians who were tough fighters, but habitually wore dirty uniforms. Worse than that, they reeked horribly.
This was intolerable to the fastidious Japanese, and some furious black belts muttered that the Canadians "were going to get their parts scattered." They ended up getting expelled instead.
Now, as an old man trying to teach traditional karate, I understand a little better than my younger self.
Dojo 道場 means a training hall, but its literal translation is, "the place of the way." The dojo is special to anyone to takes their martial arts practice seriously.
In the West, "wearing your Sunday best" implies the respect and reverence the pious have for the church. Karate is not a religion, but it is a tradition also respected and revered by its practitioners.
That view converges to how the Japanese culture esteems seiketsukan 清潔感, "the spirit of cleanliness."
As Nicol's tale implies, there is a tangible reason for the wedding of good practice to clean bodies: the respect and care you are required to show your training partners.
This is also a lesson of the pandemic: just as bodies must be clean in the dojo, so must the air. Seiketsukan means good ventilation, air purification, and masking, so your exhalation does not contaminate others.
So I will prepare for class tonight as I always do: by showering thoroughly, donning a freshly laundered keikogi (practice uniform), and putting on an N95 mask. Vic Hunt wasn't Japanese, but it's not a matter of ethnicity. He would understand.
To do any less would lack respect for others in the dojo and the way of karate itself. Anyone, regardless of their fitness or level of skill, is capable of showing respect. That is our bottom line.
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
Recently, a public figure I follow and deeply admire tweeted that they had been honoured with a very prestigious award.
It made me disappointed.
Not because they weren't deserving. They were. Their achievements were major and have made the world a significantly better place. Compared to them, my abilities are meager and my accomplishments mundane. Those are truths which cannot be denied.
So what made me disappointed?
There's a Japanese proverb, 実るほど頭を垂れる稲穂かな. It translates as, “The heavier the head of rice, the deeper it bows.”
In other words, the more one accomplishes, the greater the need to be humble about it.
Someone on Twitter this morning suggested that before making New Year's resolutions, people should celebrate and tell others what they did and were in 2022.
I understand the intent was good, but I also think the sentiment is very much bounded by this culture.
Here, if you do something very well, you expect recognition and praise. In Japan, if you do something very well, you expect to be asked how you could have done even better.
This is part of hansei 反省, a reflection on the self deemed necessary.
Some people will likely deem that a negative perspective, but I think it's actually positive.
Hansei is grounded in the faith that you are capable of being and doing better, the conviction that you can be wiser, kinder, and stronger.