Enter the Dojo, meeting with the G-Chief…

My training started yesterday, and let me tell you, I am fired up! The first session was everything I envisioned and then some. The training also provided me some expectations and potential in regards to my development- professionally, personally, and academically. Before I get into some of the details, I feel it is essential to share the road to this Dojo.

After getting approval to pursue this course of action several months ago, I began research on prospective Kendo schools. One criterion for my training was I had to have a place to train. Makes sense, right? I identified several schools and attempted to vet them. I reached out to a researcher who had written about Kendo, and he provided some insight but did not have a recommendation on a school.

I also looked into Kendo clubs, which are common at educational institutions, but those were dead ends. I contacted many schools asking to be accepted, and to this date, I have gotten zero responses. While I experienced some frustration, I found myself even more determined. So, last week, I came to Japan, having no fixed location to train. Crazy, you say? Sure, okay, but I also have operated enough on crazy and pure determination so I took the plunge to fly over. Not always the preferred course of action but a course of action indeed.

I was also reminded of Gichin Funakoshi, credited with bringing the art of Karate from Okinawa to Japan. Before joining the Army, I read his autobiography. I recalled a story of his pursuit to train with a master in Okinawa when he was a young man. Funakoshi traveled by foot every day to the master’s home requesting to be trained. Early on, Funakoshi was told that the master did not reside at that home. Funakoshi returned daily, and eventually, the master spoke with him. Funakoshi was taught a few techniques and told to practice them and come back in a year. Funakoshi practiced for a year, returned to the master as instructed, and was formally accepted to train. By the way, the techniques he was shown and told to practice was made up by the master. The Sensei commented that Funakoshi had mastered the made-up techniques through his dedicated practice and persistence.

So, in that spirit, I visited several Dojos over the past two days. I had well over 20 leads and had rank-ordered them based on their reputation, reviews, and the number of training days during the week. On one occasion, I was rejected to train at a major Dojo after introducing myself. My Japanese is good enough that I can pick up certain phrases, and combined with body mannerisms, I sensed an unfavorable view to my request. It was similar to other types of endeavors when one steps into another unit or organization, and you get the vibe that this is not going to go well. That Dojo was not at the top of my list, so I moved on.

I went back to my top choice last night determined to train. I had stopped by the Dojo several days prior but got no response when I rang the bell on that occasion. I had sent them three emails previously with no response and was starting to have my doubts if this Dojo was going to work out. I’m glad I returned. I showed up an hour ahead of their published time for Wednesday training.

This time when I rang the bell, an elderly man responded from a second-story window. I stood on the street, bowed, introduced myself, and explained why I was there. He spoke decent English and told me to come back in an hour and a half.

“Here we go again” was the first thought that entered my mind. Before the gentleman closed the window, I asked if it would be okay to wait on the bench outside of his Dojo? He responded with a nod and a verbal, “hai.” It was cold, and I found myself thinking back to a training event some 29 years prior, where a team of students I was with had to deal with a guerrilla chief (G- Chief) to enter his base. That was the final exercise prior to becoming a Special Forces soldier. Rapport building 101 was about to play out. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The elderly man eventually came down, opened the door, and invited me in. He mentioned classes start at 7:30 p.m., at which I responded with, “hai.” I thought in my head, the website stated 7:00, but oh well. He asked why I was there, and so I explained. He brought me upstairs and gestured me to have a seat. At least it wasn’t cold inside. He questioned me some more about my knowledge of Kendo. I could tell he was somewhat amused that I had no background in Kendo and traveled from the States determined to learn. I listened to him intently as he shared with me the history of the Dojo and how he had been practicing since the age of three. He never introduced himself, so I assumed he was the Sensei. But to make sure, I asked if he was Kubo Sensei, which he acknowledged. Know your target audience!

With that, he welcomed me into the Dojo and told me that the other students and Sensei would be showing up shortly. I had contemplated on whether to bring all my Kendo gear with me or not. A part of me expected to be told to observe, and bringing all my equipment may come across as somewhat presumptuous. On the other hand, I thought about how I would receive someone wanting to train with me? If one had all their gear, perhaps they were motivated and had already invested in training. So, I errored on the later and brought all my equipment, called Bogu (protective gear) and shinai (bamboo sword).

He continued to ask questions, and the thought of rapport building circulated in my mind several times. At one point, he wondered what else I intended to do in Japan. I told him my sole purpose was to study Kendo, and he then stated, “so, you can study 24 hours a day?” I responded with, “if your Dojo is open, and you allow me, I will be here 24 hours per day.”

I will cover the elements of training from the first session and key points I took away in a separate post tomorrow. The bottom line, it was a great initial session that energized my academic purpose along with the self-improvement I am seeking. It was also a blast to put on some kit again though it was different from the kit I am used to.

Pat