The Gentle Art

When we first put our girls into martial arts classes we got a few odd looks, though I’m sure not nearly as many as we would have thirty years ago. Odd looks aside, we wanted our daughters to know how to defend themselves, and we felt the structure of the classes might help them with their own self-discipline. What we weren’t expecting when we started this journey was that our girls – and we too – would be joining a wonderful extended family.

A perfect choice for home educators who don’t accept the definition of peer as “someone exactly the same age,” our dojo is a mixed group of about twenty students and four instructors. Students range in age from kids around 6-7 years old, to adults in their 30’s & 40’s. And no, the adults are not all the more advanced students. We proceed through the ranks at our own pace. There are younger people among the senior students and teachers and some of us older folk are still in the beginning of our studies, working hard at mastering the most basic skills.

This hard work may be part of the bond that grows between members of the dojo, despite our different ages and backgrounds. It’s a tough work-out, harder by far than any gym class I ever took in high school. And getting tossed around like a rag doll has its risks as well as the occasional indignity. So maybe we’re all a tad masochistic for wanting to keep coming back to these classes week after week.

There’s something much deeper to it, though, and it’s because we really lucked out when we picked our dojo. We joined a family. First, because the dojo is run like a family. The older kids (read “more experienced students”) help the younger ones. Everyone learns together, and we applaud each other’s successes. Very much like the family that always has an extra place set at the table, who will feed and shelter anyone who comes knocking, at our dojo all are welcome. You don’t have to be a jock, or even fit when you join. You just have to try hard and to respect the others around you.

The family aspect of the dojo goes beyond it being a welcoming place, though, and that was never better demonstrated than a few weekends ago. A special workshop was set up in order to allow students some time with our founder, and also so some of our more advanced students could pass black belt exams. That alone would have made for a memorable event.

There were two students who went from 1st to 2nd dan, and two more who went from brown belt to black belt. We are very proud of the new Shodan from our dojo, who at 13 is the youngest black belt our style has ever seen. She’s also a young woman who can easily stop any rumblings about women not deserving the belts they are given. This sensei has incredible speed and grace, and her demonstrations make it clear that she is a skilled Jitsuka.

At the same workshop, another sensei from our dojo passed the exam for Nidan. When our Shihan introduced him, it was with special pride, for this young man is his own step-son. He was absolutely a-glow, as he told the assembled audience that there was nothing more fulfilling than to see his son follow in his footsteps.

Our founder, whom we call Kancho, had come to Montreal from out of town to give the workshop. Part of his teaching this time was to tell us his own story, and the story of Jukaido Kan. We learned why Kancho began to study martial arts, and it became obvious why the local dojo had always been a special love.

For this man had been born in a house only blocks from where the current dojo stands. As Kancho spoke of his own journey through the years, he told us that he had trouble with his heart. “Only half of my heart works,” he said. “The other half I gave to my students a piece at a time.” He told us about how he lost a leg when he was in his prime, and faced the choice of walking away from martial arts or learning to practice with one leg. Here is a video of Kancho fighting without his prosthesis:

Later, we listened to Kancho announce his retirement from teaching martial arts, after 50 years and thousands of students. He spoke then of his own son: our Shihan. People think about martial arts as a tough sport – and it is. Some days I joke about how much testosterone is flowing in the dojo. There is never a class where the students don’t break out a good sweat, and none would be afraid to do some serious damage to an attacker foolish enough to tangle with them. But that day I think there were a few misty eyes in the room. For all that these folk are tough, there is a great deal of love in our dojo. It showed that day, in the chain from grandfather to father to son.

The word Ju-Jutsu is often translated into English as “the gentle art”. This is meant to be a reference to the unarmed combat, and to the way we are taught to use minimal effort for maximal effect. This one day, to me Ju-Jutsu was the gentle art because of the tenderness of those moments when we connected as a family.

So when I am asked, “Why do you want to do that stuff, anyway?” or “Don’t you think the girls would be better off taking swimming lessons?” I can just smile. Those who want to think there is only violence in this sport are welcome to their opinions, but I know different. And I can’t think of a better or safer place for my kids to be than our dojo.

This work was created by Ruby of Freehold 2, and is licensed under a
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Tags: family, Home Education, home-schooling, homeschooling, martial arts