Shidoshi - Are You A Living Example?

When I first started in the Bujinkan, the number of Shidoshi in the United States was only a fraction of what it is today.  Unless you were fortunate to live near one, you had to drive, fly or ride the bus to go train.  There was no internet (at least not for public use) and very little credible video (VHS tapes).  You scraped money and sacrificed to get some kind of training from a Shidoshi and go back home to practice on it until you could get more training.  The quality wasn't the best, either, as the information available was very limited (compared to today).  Back then, a Shidoshi really did mean that you were a "teacher", because you were most often the only source for many to receive training.  It was easy to fall for bad teaching, too, as students had no other sources to validate the teaching they were receiving.  Nowadays, so many go to Japan and come back that it isn't hard to spend time training with someone who has trained in Japan, even if that person isn't a Shidoshi.  Anybody who is off their rocker with their own made up ideas can easily be compared with others who have either training in Japan or train with someone who has trained in Japan.  It is getting harder for people to set up their own cult-like empires, as they don't hold the monopoly on training anymore.

In the early years of my training, being a Shidoshi meant you could easily set up a school, write books and produce videos, with some degree of success at producing lucrative results.  During the 1980's and 1990's when I first started, being a Shidoshi meant something marketable.  For some, it was a career path.  Now, with so many getting their Shidoshi license inside and outside of Japan, tests being performed by jugodan instead of Soke himself, being a Shidoshi means much less these days from a marketing standpoint.  The only exception would be countries where the number of Shidoshi are still very few.  But, overall, most people won't even blink an eye at someone coming back with a fresh, new Shidoshi menkyo.

So, why do so many still flock to take the godan test and pay the extra fee for the Shidoshi menkyo?  Is there still a dream of opening a dojo and being a Bujinkan authority?  Are these people viewing the Shidoshi menkyo as more important than the godan menkyo?  Is the stigma of being a Shidoshi simply feeding the ego of the student?  I have to confess, I was more proud of being a new Shidoshi than I was a godan.  I am being brutally honest about that.

So, what does it mean to be a Shidoshi? Do people really know or do they have their own idea and seek to fill that image?  What is that image and is it even realistic in today's Bujinkan?

For many, many years (and even today), the term Shidoshi has been described as "teacher of the Warrior Ways of Enlightenment" (whatever that means).  But, this isn't the case.  There's a blog post written recently by someone that touches on this very thing.  Unfortunately, I can't remember the author's name or the link to it, but the point still hit home with me.  The term Shidoshi does not mean "teacher".  The term Sensei actually means "teacher".  But, sensei is a term reserved for more of a technical and academic nature, like a university professor or school teacher.  The sensei are teaching a specific body of knowledge and skills, like a curriculum.  Soke, in all his wisdom, chose to use the term Shidoshi instead.  Why?  Don't we, as Shidoshi, also teach?

We do teach!  Some of us have curriculum, ranking standards and so on, much like a scholastic or technical school would.  In those environments, we are sensei.  But, our Shidoshi menkyo doesn't say sensei.  It says Shidoshi.  So, there has to be more - and there is!

Being a Shidoshi is far more than being a sensei.  You are not teaching, you are leading.  That is a very different thing.  In order to lead, you have to provide the example.  You are the example.  How you conduct yourself, how you approach training, how you struggle and how you grow.  By being a Shidoshi, you are the lantern holder, the light bearer, to lead others along this confusing and difficult path we call Bujinkan Budo Taijutsu.  You can't walk facing backwards, so your students just have to look to your light and keep following.  Your responsibility is to provide the direction and their responsibility is to forge on to try and keep up.

However, from the Shidoshi's perspective, this is extremely difficult.  It would be easier to just be a godan+ and focus on your own training.  But, as a Shidoshi, now you have to be there for others.  You are responsible for being there, for providing that example and encouraging them to keep going.

You are climbing this budo mountain, while your students are roped to you and struggling to also climb.  If they don't put in the effort, they will begin to pull you and everybody else back.  This is why the sempai/kohai (senior/junior) class structure is so important.  If a junior level student begins to falter, their senior can help them while the Shidoshi continues.  In the old days, if you were not proving your own and it became a hinderance to the rest of the class, you could be asked to leave!  So, for the sake of being allowed to continue, you had to train hard to keep going.  If you were weak in something, you trained even harder to make up for it.  Through your commitment and hard work, you demonstrated something that others would learn from.

You were already leading by your example.

Nowadays, we see people who are high rank, yet lack certain qualities that one would expect of such a rank.  I have seen grossly overweight and out of shape black belt students and even Shidoshi.  I have seen high ranking teachers who couln't perform basic techniques with any real skill.  They may have been complete badass students at one time, before they became such high ranking teachers, but that seemed to fade away as they progressed in rank and status.  Why?  How does that happen?  Are they no longer training as students?  Have they abandoned their own Shugyo to sit on their laurels?

Do they still embody the kind of example you want to follow?  Are they still leading, or just teaching?  Are they no longer a Shidoshi and just being a sensei?

If you really study Soke and the Japanese Shihan, you will notice something interesting.  The older they get, the younger they seem.  Soke is, what, 84 now?  Other senior Japanese Shihan are also in their 70's and 80's.  Yet, they are flexible, strong and able to move with incredible grace and power.  They all have vibrant health and an energy that most people reaching their 60's only wish they had.

If you follow the example of Soke and the senior Japanese Shihan, do you think your health and vitality would also increase?  Do you think your taijutsu would actually improve with age?  Old age is no excuse for these gentlemen - why should it be for the rest of us?  So, they are showing us how to live as budoka.  They are providing the example.  They are leading.  It's up to us to try and work hard to follow.  For some of us, we may need to work even harder than others.

Maybe some of us could do with a wake up call by being asked to leave our status as Shidoshi until we train enough to be considered as someone worthy of being a leader instead of a teacher.  Can you imagine that?

What about the ranking menkyo you hold, even if not a Shidoshi yet.  Are you worthy to be considered a sempai (senior), a leader for kohai (junior) to follow?  Maybe you need a wake up call, to leave your current rank until you train yourself up enough to be the kind of sempai you should be.

For many, this probably has spurred some anger, maybe some fear.  The ego attaches itself to rank easily and through this attachment, it also is easy to ignore our own truth.  The ego prevents us from realizing and accepting when we have abandoned our own Shugyo under the false mask of our status, title, rank and presumed role.  It is easy to fall for it.  When you have students who look to you for their training, maybe even pay you for your teaching, you can become attached to that over the driving passion of furthering yourself as a student.  It is attractive and, to be frank, quite entertaining to be the recipient of such attention.  Also, it is normal for a teacher to devote him or her self to their students, even at the cost of their own development.

They have a title, they have a product and they have those who are willing to pay (money, time, attention) to get it.  Why struggle on the difficult and challenging path of growth when one can sit back on what they know already and receive some personal and/or financial compensation for it?  To continue to be a student is to be transparent, to make mistakes and question what you know.  How can you have any sort of confidence as a teacher when you are vulnerable to discovering what you thought you knew was either wrong or incomplete?  How can you market yourself to potential students when you yourself are forced to question your own understanding?

Yet, we expect our students to walk that path, to train hard and keep training, to accept correction and grow from it.  Why do so many expect so much less from themselves, all because they now see themselves as a Shidoshi?  Shouldn't a Shidoshi exemplify these qualities to the degree that not only do they provide example-centered leadership to their students, but also a real example of continued development?

To be a Shidoshi, it's not enough to just train.  It's not enough to just teach.  You have to lead, by example, and be the kind of student you want your students to be.  Through your own example, you are teaching your students how to be students.

That is a far greater responsibility than just being a godan, as it should be.  Not everybody can do it, not everybody should do it, and those who hold that title and can't live up to it should step back, refocus on being a hard training student - and grow back into being it.

Being a Shidoshi is not a job title.  It's a living example of being a true budoka.  Reaching that point and finally passing the sakki test for godan is one thing.  Choosing to then pay the extra fees to become a Shidoshi isn't just about receiving the menkyo and having a fancy sounding title.  By choosing to be a Shidoshi, you are choosing to be an example.  That doesn't end.  It continues even as your ranking progresses to jugodan.  That's because being Shidoshi goes beyond the rank.

If you are training to be a Shidoshi, are you willing to accept that responsibility?  If you are a Shidoshi, are you living and training as a living example for others to follow in their own Shugyo?  Or, are you too busy teaching?

When Your Love of Something Is Greater Than Your Fear...

“When your love of something is greater than your fear of doing it, you will do it. You don't have to fear less, just love more.”

Fear and doubt kill the aspiring martial artist.  Pride and selfishness kill the experienced martial artist.  What I want to write about is the process involved in becoming a martial arts student.  Many desire to be it, but far less actually become it.  Even less actually embody it for their lifetime.  No matter what stage you are, there is no getting around the reality that being a martial arts student means you must be able to face your own self in all its flawed glory.  It is uncomfortable and sometimes painful, emotionally, mentally and even physically.  This requires not only bravery, but humility.

In every dojo is a kamidana.  It is a shelf up high in the front of the room.  It contains a variety of symbolic items.  Centered on most is a simple, round mirror.  There is a great significance to this little mirror, but one can see it as “truth”, a reflection of your own heart, showing you – you.  It has to be polished every day, just like our own heart, as life can tarnish our heart and mind as much as it can a mirror.  A tarnished mirror won’t show you a clear reflection and a tarnished heart and mind will poison your perspective, understanding and passion (and compassion).  When we enter the dojo, we come in tarnished.  Through correct training, we work to polish our mirror, so that we leave cleaner than we arrived.

However, this involves having to accept the stains, the tarnish, and the work necessary to clean it away.  For some people, they fear not only the tarnish, but of what lies underneath.  They fear the truth about themselves, their lives and the reality around them.  Their fantasy, their narrative, even with the stains and foggy vision, is their security – even to the point of self-destruction.  They would rather wallow in living ineffective and delusional, than to embrace a clear, full life of empowerment and truth.  The reasons vary, but most often due to toxic programming they received in their formative years, mistakes they’ve made and other kinds of self-deflating experiences which convinced them that reality is too painful to face, or they are not “good enough” to chase their dreams and live a life of fulfillment and success.  Maybe they suffered a horrible victimization that stripped them of their worth.  Whatever the reason, the ugliness of it all can be too much.

Then, there are those who desire to be a martial arts student, but lack the willpower and fortitude to actually work for it.  They are used to having their happiness provided with little cost and effort.  Their pride tells them they shouldn’t have to work so hard to be a martial arts student.  They should just be able to be one just by wanting it.  Of course, there are countless so-called students who do show up, most often without any consistency, and have the same mindset.  They believe in minimal effort with an expectation of maximum results.  They don’t stick around long term, unless they have a teacher who keeps their ego fluffed with low expectation rewards (i.e. “everybody gets a trophy!”).

I want to focus on those who honestly desire to be a martial arts student, to go to class and train hard, but just can’t seem to actually step foot into the dojo.  What is it that stops that person and prevents them from pursuing something they really want to do?

Entering a dojo for the first time, each person has a preconceived image or impression of what they “think” the training is.  Once you make a decision to want to train, suddenly the closet opens and all those demons you had been able to silence in your safe, compromised life (we all make compromises!), suddenly surround you, filling you with fear and doubt.  Those demons say the same scripts that have deflated you on so many opportunities in the past (admit it, you have made choices not to do one or more things based on these statements):

“You aren’t good enough!”

“You are out of shape!”

“It’s too expensive!”

“You don’t have time for this!”

“It’s too far!”

“People will judge you!”

“You will hold others back!”

“Your friends/family will laugh at you!”

“You’ll get hurt!”

“Who do you think you are?”

“You’re too good to be a white belt again!”  (yup, other martial artists go through this)

And just about any other reason, no matter how petty or unrealistic, or even embarrassing…

A common phrase in the fitness world is “Showing Up Is Half The Struggle”.  The day you first decide to go to the dojo is big.  But, when you actually step into the dojo, you’ve crossed over half the struggle.  Even if you don’t actually get out onto the mat and train, you’ve already been halfway successful in being a martial arts student!  You have ignored the demons and showed up.  When you do that, you begin to realize how utterly powerless those demons really are.  The only power they have is what you have given them.  Keep showing up and eventually stepping out onto the mat doesn’t seem so bad.  Once you place your foot on the tatami (mat), you have crossed a threshold.  You are there, in the dojo, on the tatami, in the class.  You will be welcomed with smiles and encouraged to participate.  Your first partner will be someone who has gone through the same things as you to get there.  Maybe not the same degree, but maybe worse!  Yet, there you both are, having gone through the rite of passage, to be in class and training as martial arts students.

We all go through the process together, but in our own time and in our own ways.  Our demons are uniquely ours, but share common traits.  The negative reinforcement those demons try to hammer us with are not much different between each person.  But, those students who show up, put on their keikogi (training uniform) and step onto the tatami each week have chosen to listen to something else – their love for training.  They are transforming from powerless to powerful.  They stop listening to those demons and embrace the fact that those demons are nothing more than empty threats, false prophets and powerless charlatans who try to keep you buried in your own ineffectiveness and illusions.  When you step onto the tatami and your partner grabs you or strikes at you, there is no more illusion.  You are facing reality, even if controlled and safe (If you didn’t face reality in that moment, you’d get hit or thrown!).

It is exhilarating to discover how your demons really have no power.  You begin to believe you actually can do this, and the rewards become far more worth the effort!  In your excitement, you begin to wonder what else you can achieve.  You find yourself applying the same rite of passage to other things you have wanted to do, but had sold yourself out to those nasty demons!

So, you begin to start training and, at first, you enjoy it.  You make friends and the fears begin to go away as you continue to show up and train at increasing level.  The class becomes a routine for you.  That’s where those demons start to chip away at you again.  New reasons to stop showing up begin to appear in your mind:

“I’m too tired.”

“I’m just not feeling it…”  (be honest, we all have used this one!)

“There’s a show I want to watch.”

“I’m not getting any better; I don’t see the point…”  (that’s a killer!)

“If (enter name) isn’t going, I don’t want to go”

“I need to rest up for the weekend…”

“It’s too (name whatever weather condition fits) outside”

“I can’t find my keiko gi” (or belt, or tabi, or training weapons, etc)

Or whatever rationalization it takes to make it okay for you to not come out (ooh, I know that sounds harsh, but I’ve done it, too, so deal with it!  LOL!)

The problem with rationalizations is that each time you use them, you begin to add power to the underlying reason - and empowering not yourself, but those dirty little demons who are robbing you of YOU!

Look, training sometimes sucks.  Those of you who have been training for some time, I know you “know” what I mean.  There are classes where I just felt disconnected.  There were weeks I would’ve done just about anything else.  I’ve had classes go horribly wrong, too.  I have embarrassed myself terribly over a complete screw up in front of a whole room of people and senior instructors.  I’ve had injuries.  I’ve had personal challenges.  I’ve had ample number of reasons to skip a class, take a break from training and even quit training altogether (come on, tell me you haven’t considered it, too!).  We ALL go through this game and those who show up in class are in a kind of brotherhood or sisterhood of people who just didn’t listen to those voices, who sucked it up and went anyway, even when they had an entire list of reasons why they shouldn’t (again, all just rationalizations of a deeper issue).

Yet, I can’t think of any time where I didn’t feel like it, was too tired, weather sucked, blah blah, and went anyway – and wished I hadn’t!  I can’t think of a single class I regretted going to.  Even on those times where I’ve screwed up and embarrassed myself.  Looking back, those were valuable lessons I would’ve missed had I not gone and I would’ve never grown from them had I not continued going afterward!

 

We ALL go through this together.

 The choice you make is purely yours, but you are not alone.  That room of folks who showed up did so facing the same doubts, fears, negative self-talk and rationalizations.  They may have struggled the entire way to the dojo. They may even be standing there on the tatami thinking how much easier it would be to just leave.  But they don’t and when class is over, you’ll see them smiling and laughing, thankful they mustered the courage and followed their heart, instead of their demons.

They love what they do more than the fear of doing it.

So, what are you doing this week?  Are you going to class?