by Régis Soavi
Ambience is both a starting point and an outcome. It is literally an atmosphere that is both tangible and intangible, concrete and yet sometimes almost invisible, but it is always real and far from superfluous.
A source of results
The ambience of a dōjō is not something fixed or defined forever, for it is in its subtlety that its suitability to the situation will be revealed. If it becomes rigid, instead of simply firm, or aggressive instead of strong, it will certainly be more suited to violent martial arts, or those that attempt to be violent, than to an art such as ours, an art where “non-competition” must guide us towards respect for others and a certain wisdom. The location is almost always a major factor in practising Aikidō, especially with beginners; it contributes to the creation of the special atmosphere encountered in the dōjōs of our School. Everything has been designed, arranged and sometimes adapted according to the location, the composition of the group and its possibilities, so that we feel both comfortable and focused. Everything has been planned to enable practice, and in this place we feel that so much has already changed and will continue to change. Nothing is set in stone; everything depends on the circumstances and the favourable ambience that develops or disappears, sometimes only to be reborn elsewhere in another space.
Despite all the difficulties, it is possible to create a suitable Dōjō in other places, but it will require a great deal of continuity and resilience, and the work achieved will be constantly challenged by a societal environment that is difficult to influence, which may lead to exhaustion. When a place is suitable, it is charged, not in itself, although this is possible, but rather by the attentive and often invisible presence of old and new practitioners cordially mingling, because it is a dōjō, a place where the Way is practised. As soon as one crosses the threshold, and sometimes even before, depending on one’s sensitivity, one begins to feel the physical and psychological effects, not to mention the psychic or spiritual ones. In our dōjōs, simplicity must reign: no “ring” or “fighting area”, no photos of shirtless athletes, just a few portraits of old masters who have already passed away, a Tokonoma with a Kakemono highlighting a calligraphy and, whenever possible, an Ikebana, that is all. A simple bow when stepping onto the tatami mats is enough to understand and feel what is important.

A focused attention
A single presence can create a favourable environment, but equally, another can disrupt all the efforts made by the many people involved in the session. This is why there is real work to be done by each individual to deepen their understanding. In stillness as in action, there must be understanding and flexibility; if not of the body, then at least of the mind. The first part of an Aikidō session, in our School, is there to allow us to feel the creation of a different “space-time”, like the one Tsuda sensei demonstrated every morning, like he told me about sometimes in private discussions. Through his gestures, his rhythm, his very presence, he knew how to bring out something different in me, a deeper, more peaceful self, the beginning of an awareness that took so many years to grow. His deep breathing alone created the atmosphere necessary for practice. I felt that he was connecting with the spirit of O-sensei Morihei Ueshiba’s Aikidō, that he was getting closer to it every day, whether it was when he wrote one of his calligraphies such as The Country where Nothing Happens1[Itsuo Tsuda also wrote: ‘I sail in the Total Liberty that Chuang Tseu called the “land of the Nothingness and Infinity”.’ (The Dialogue of Silence, Chap. XII, pub. Yume Editions (Paris), p. 100)] or when he guided us by saying ‘during Tama-no-hireburi2“the vibration of the Soul” [a photo of Ueshiba O-sensei performing it can be found in The Path of Less, Chap. X (very end), pub. Yume Editions], I position myself at the centre of the universe’3[Itsuo Tsuda also wrote: ‘Master Ueshiba said at that point: // “Put yourself at the beginning of the Universe (Kokoro o Ame Tsuchi no hajime ni oite kudasai)”. Literally: place your mind at the beginning of Heaven and Earth.’ (The Science of the Particular, Chap. XVIII, 2015, Yume Editions, p. 148) and: ‘Ame-tsuchi no hajime (the beginning of Heaven and Earth, of the Universe): During tama-no-hireburi, the vibration of the soul, he said, “put yourself at the beginning of the Universe”.’ (The Way of the Gods, Chap. XIII, 2021, Yume Editions, p. 101)].
Ambience is not a decor
Although the atmosphere is not the result of a fixed decor, it does require a suitable environment that is as undisturbing as possible, as it is sensitive to its surroundings and can easily be disrupted by people or unwanted noises. Sometimes these are details that would not be a problem elsewhere, but here, because of their rhythms or a certain je ne sais quoi that everyone perceives, they destroy what is so difficult to achieve. On the other hand, it is not enough to place Japanese or Chinese objects in a room to make it “Orienta” in order to find peace and serenity. It is what inhabits the Kakemono or Ikebana that changes the atmosphere. It is the gestures that created the object, transcended it, gave it resonance, allowed the creation of a climate, made it possible to perceive Ki, and, by extension, also promote the harmonisation of the body, making it freer. The maintenance of the dōjō, the ten thousand small improvements and tidying up contribute significantly to maintaining an environment that is essential for simple and balanced practice.
The atmosphere obviously also depends on what is going on in the minds of the practitioners, or rather, in their heads. If there is concern because of the small number of people attending the sessions, and it is therefore always the same people practising together, a sense of weariness sets in which spreads throughout the dōjō. If the members of the association are no longer able to balance the budget, these concerns take over their minds and, as a result, make it difficult to welcome new people, because they are not free from financial needs due to their immediate realities, and the importance of the membership fee unconsciously takes precedence over the individual who has just arrived. All newcomers sense this without realising it and back away without even knowing why, missing out on the opportunity to discover what they may have been seeking for a long time. Jealousy, unfulfilled desires, ambitions, resentment and misunderstandings, always attributed to others, also have an obvious influence and create an environment that is unlikely to allow the practice of Aikidō or Katsugen Undō4Regenerating Movement in a way that is both simple and profound.

Regeneration
Every morning, the first part (respiratory practice) allows us to move forward, to dig a little deeper each time, to get rid of what weighs us down. This is what we mean by purification. Katsugen Undō works in the same way, if we allow it to be triggered, by activating our involuntary system, giving it back its rightful place, i.e. the foremost place in terms of fundamental life, the essence of human life, which we have not allowed to work since we left early childhood. These two practices act on the body and mind to enable us to rediscover both the vitality and tranquillity we need. If the ambience is not conducive, if it is harmful, we risk missing the mark, going astray and making things worse, thus losing yet another opportunity. If we do not take care of the setting and conditions for practice, both for ourselves and for others, we are going in the wrong direction, and we lose our objectivity, our sense of universality, our search for unity, in favour of bias and partiality.
Itsuo Tsuda wrote about the group that came to his dōjō in the early 1970s:
Creating a temporary ambience
For the summer seminar organised for nearly forty years in the village of Mas-d’Azil7Le Mas-d’Azil, Ariège, southern France, everything has to be created from scratch. As it is impossible to bring together all the practitioners of our School in a dōjō in town simply for reasons of space and logistics, we have to create a suitable ambience in an old gymnasium from the early 1960s that is more or less disused. While the seminar lasts 15 days for those who participate, it lasts almost a month for those who organise it. It is with ever-renewed enthusiasm that around twenty practitioners set up the site. Every year, almost everything has to be rearranged, sometimes with pleasant or unpleasant new features. It is impressive to see this old gymnasium become a little more “dōjō” every day. It is repainted, curtains are hung, changing rooms are created, there is a flurry of activity, every detail is studied and problems are solved through collaboration between the oldest and newest members.
By the end of the week, the Dōjō is ready, the Tokonoma has been installed, almost everything is in place. We leave the space to rest for an entire afternoon, as required by Ma8Ma 間, “space-time”, “empty interval”, and in the evening we add the finishing touches: hanging the Kakemono with the calligraphy. The Kakemono has been designed and created over several months specifically for this occasion. It alone completes the atmosphere that will reign throughout the seminar. In harmony with the Kakemono, an Ikebana completes the Tokonoma.
On the morning of the first day, during what could be called a solemn opening ceremony, I wear a ceremonial hakama and perform the first salute and all the respiratory practice not with my bokken but with a fan. The atmosphere thus created leads us towards harmony, Non-Doing, rather than combat.

An ambience that respects everyone’s independence and Freedom
In our school, although we all practise the same arts, each dōjō has its own atmosphere. There are several dōjōs in France, and one might think that they are all more or less alike, but in fact they are not at all. How can one compare Paris with Toulouse or Blois? Each has its own specificities, customs and habits. It is the same in Italy: Milan is not Rome, but neither is it Ancona or Pescara. What can be said about Amsterdam or Bogota? The same practice but different individuals, different backgrounds, and sometimes even slight variations and nuances may arise depending on needs, the times, or local requirements, without changing the essence, as Romanian conductor Sergiu Celibidache so aptly put it when talking about the interpretation of a piece of music, which will be played differently depending on the venue or the audience, without betraying its nature or the composer. The atmosphere is one of the tools at our disposal, just like practice. It is recreated and maintained every day to promote the independence and freedom of each individual, as Tsuda sensei expresses it:
That is why I have encouraged and contributed to the establishment of autonomous and independent dōjōs. This work is far from complete; it is only a beginning that must be sustained, but it was the desire of my master, Itsuo Tsuda, who initiated it more than fifty years ago.
Would you like to hear about the next article?
Notes
- 1[Itsuo Tsuda also wrote: ‘I sail in the Total Liberty that Chuang Tseu called the “land of the Nothingness and Infinity”.’ (The Dialogue of Silence, Chap. XII, pub. Yume Editions (Paris), p. 100)]
- 2“the vibration of the Soul” [a photo of Ueshiba O-sensei performing it can be found in The Path of Less, Chap. X (very end), pub. Yume Editions]
- 3[Itsuo Tsuda also wrote: ‘Master Ueshiba said at that point: // “Put yourself at the beginning of the Universe (Kokoro o Ame Tsuchi no hajime ni oite kudasai)”. Literally: place your mind at the beginning of Heaven and Earth.’ (The Science of the Particular, Chap. XVIII, 2015, Yume Editions, p. 148) and: ‘Ame-tsuchi no hajime (the beginning of Heaven and Earth, of the Universe): During tama-no-hireburi, the vibration of the soul, he said, “put yourself at the beginning of the Universe”.’ (The Way of the Gods, Chap. XIII, 2021, Yume Editions, p. 101)]
- 4Regenerating Movement
- 5Itsuo Tsuda, The Non-Doing, Chap. XI, 2023, Yume Editions, p. 115
- 6ibid., p. 117
- 7Le Mas-d’Azil, Ariège, southern France
- 8Ma 間, “space-time”, “empty interval”
- 9Itsuo Tsuda, The Unstable Triangle, Chap. XI, Yume Editions, p. 90
- 10The Dialogue of Silence (op. cit.), Chap. X, pp. 85–6