Traditional martial arts, particularly those of Japanese origin, are structured within a framework of foreign ceremony and intricate formality that is open to the charge of being outdated and upheld by the pedantic. Such modes of conduct are certainly archaic, but they are an inherent characteristic of the martial discipline, and are as important to the field as body mechanics and tactical know-how.
Why? The easy answer is tradition, but it is not a very good one. To simply mimic the actions of those who came before us without import is perhaps a waste of time. Were tradition the only reason to adhere to dojo protocol, I'd be arguing on the other side of the fence. Etiquette develops necessarily, not aimlessly. The evolution of culture and ritual is a symbiosis.
The most prolific gesture throughout the Asian martial arts is of course the bow. Our Western counterpart is the handshake, but the bow and the handshake engender slightly different connotations. A handshake implies mutual balance and position — both parties stand upright and converge eye-to-eye. A proper bow bends from the waist, displacing the balance forward and lowering the line of vision. This gesture implies deference, which is critical in the martial setting.
The bow cannot be neglected. It must always be sincere. Great care and fastidious effort must be poured into its refinement, because the bare-bones, primordial implementation of physical martial technique is fierce: We hit each other, we choke each other, we toss each other to the ground; we swing sticks, brandish swords and exchange a gamut of sophisticated bodily punishment. Without an honest and sincere demonstration of respect before and after an exchange, before and after class, we risk the creation of a contentious environment that promotes brawling and discourages mutual benefit. In a dojo, that environment makes no sense. In a military, that environment enkindles mutiny.
This concept is not too difficult to grasp, and most martial artists get it. But what about bowing to inanimate objects? Bowing to the shomen or to our weapons seems to suggest a religious or even cultish connotation to those viewing from the outside in, and indeed I have assuaged skeptical newcomers and concerned parents re the topic. Amusingly, the word "heathen" once surfaced during a discussion with an unhappy mother.
The word dojo is composed of two Chinese characters: do, which means "road," "path" or "way;" and jo, which means "place." Dojo, then, literally means "the place for finding the way." We do not bow to the shomen and those who came before in order to idolize it or them — our bow is an acknowledgement of the setting we are in, and an expression of thanks for what was left to us. It's like hitting a reset button on the brain that clears our memory banks of excess flotsam: Deferential focus at the beginning of the task, deferential thanks at the end.
So why do we bow to our weapons? Why do we bow, for instance, to the sword? I have heard much propaganda that the sword was considered the soul of the samurai, that his life depended on it's maintenance, and therefore it was critical to his profession. This information seems accurate enough, but it is no longer the case today. The likelihood that my fate or your fate is going to be determined by a a clash of polished razor blades three feet in length is no more than goofy at best. Today we bow to the sword because it is essential to our training. Without the sword, or whatever weapon we practice, we could not study the art. This is true even for art forms wherein one's body mechanics persist regardless of armament — such as Kali or Arnis — because the weapon teaches the empty-hand techniques just as much as the empty-hand techniques teach the weapon. The weapon must therefore be cared for, kept up, and handled with respect, just like those warriors who employed it in the past.
And in every case, the study begins and ends with deference. What better way to engage in the praxis of learning?
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