Problems That Solve Themselves

I chuckle to myself when I read my own marketing materials. I spent the end of last year reviewing this blog, my website, and checking in with my students to make sure I was presenting an appropriate picture of what Lantern Dojo is on these “public facing” pages.

I’ve said before that I don’t want to trick anyone into training.

The centerpiece of this presentation is that we are a small private dojo. I realize this comes off as being… exclusive? special? A whiff of “Oh my sensei doesn’t accept just anyone…”

It’s a great marketing angle and I intend to keep the dojo deliberately small. Five students seems right, certainly less than 10.

But the truth is that I’m in no danger of having to enforce those limits.

Traditional karate training isn’t for the masses. It is slow and it is difficult. You are trying to build skill, which involves many repetitions of basic techniques. That can be taxing and discouraging.

You’re also wrestling with your own nature. Are you willing to do this boring work? Can you slog through the slow classes and still come back? Can you work towards the bigger picture bit-by-bit and class-by-class or will you be frustrated by not getting it right away? Will you stay calm and in control when things get heated? When you are frustrated, nervous, or angry?

Maybe you can manage all that. But what about when you’ve learned the forms, the techniques, the entire curriculum even! When the training turns from learning to refining, a lot of people stop.

How about re-examining what you know? Turning it over again and thinking critically about exactly why we are practicing this way. Maybe even starting all over.

It’s hard to stay on the Path. It’s hard to be self-critical. And so traditional martial arts training isn’t something I have to worry about turning people away from.

And, to be honest, that’s fine. Not everyone needs to do this. And not everyone that does this needs to dedicate their life to it. If the path of your life and the path of karate coincide for a time, that can be a really meaningful pursuit. And when those paths diverge, that’s alright too. I’m not running a monastery. You don’t have to forsake all worldly possessions and shave your hair.

But it does mean that the “small dojo” tends to keep itself small, simply by the nature of the activity.