Perfection

We enter the dojo and don our gis and as we step out onto the floor we feel the familiar sensation of wood against the soles of our feet. When you first start karate the notion of training in your bare feet is alien, but after a few years it is almost a comfort. Students take up positions in various parts of the dojo, stretching and loosening their bodies, readying themselves for the task at hand, the practice of karate. Every time you come into the dojo you hone your technique, making it sharper in the same way a craftsman polishes his tools, for how can anyone do the work they need to do if their tools have been neglected? The karateka looks at the minute details of a technique, eliminating any wasteful movements to ensure efficient and effective application of their weapon to the opponent, the only weapon that a karateka has…his/her body.

My mind is always drawn back to the mental images formed by an article written by Dave Hooper which contrasts training in Japan with training elsewhere in the world. To quote from his article “Karate-do: The Way versus the Cul-de-sac”:

A Karate Class — somewhere in Japan

“Ichi…ni…san…shi…”

To each count, a group of dan grades execute gyakuzuki. The sweat running down their impassive faces reveals the degree of effort and concentration that their practice demands. The sensei briefly interjects to re-emphasise the importance of keeping the shoulders relaxed during the movement. The rhythm of the count remains constant, almost hypnotic; undisturbed by the kiais that contrast so sharply with the otherwise inaudible breathing. As each set of ten counts is completed, so the next begins: a never-ending sequence to be eventually halted by the sensei’s call of “yame.”

To me the Japanese method of training presented in that article seems so pure. So hypnotic as Dave Hooper puts it. The students just stand there and polish their techniques, again and again without complaint, refining them until their techniques become so fast and powerful that they can seem superhuman. But it is not superhuman. It is just hard work, dedication and an attention to detail which produces such quality. Each time I line up on the dojo floor and training starts, it is this image that I have in my mind; the perfection of technique and an understanding of it which is gained only through countless repetitions and study. This is the art of karate.

This is the endeavour to which we dedicate ourselves. It is not easy, often frustrating, but ultimately rewarding. We keep coming back, donning our gi and stepping out onto that wooden floor once more. There is nothing else I would rather do.