I recently wrote in an article for Dragon Hors-série Aïkido magazine that ‘The Dojo itself is a place out of the social time, out of the epoch, indifferent to the geographical location.’ Today [April 2020 lockdown], when all the dojos of our School, like those in much of the world, are closed, we find ourselves without these spaces.

We can practise at home, but it’s not always easy because everything catches up with us when we try to practise at home: social time, the era we live in, our geographical location. We find ourselves surrounded by our furniture, next to the telephone, not far from the children or the dog, in the confined space of a Parisian flat or in a vast expanse of countryside. We may feel too cramped or, on the contrary, lost in too much empty space. Everything reminds us of our daily lives, and it can become very difficult to detach ourselves from our surroundings. This is why dojos are so important, especially in our early years of practice.

Sometimes practitioners set up a space in their homes for practising. Placing a calligraphy piece and a few tatami mats can help us get into the right frame of mind and disconnect from our everyday environment. For some, it will just be a rug, for others one or two tatami mats in the living room, cleared of children’s toys for the occasion. Others will set up an attic or a corner in their bedroom. The only thing that matters is not adhering to an idea or imitating a ‘mini-dojo’, but the possibility for us to express a space and time for our practice.

This is usually used by practitioners when they are unable to go to the dojo for various reasons. They practise individual movement (Katsugen Undo), the respiratory practice of our Aikido or a few weapon kata. It all depends on the individual, their needs and the circumstances.

Of course, in the long run, it is possible to ignore the context, whatever it may be. If our ability to concentrate allows it, it is possible to practise in the midst of noise, next to a child playing with Lego, or whatever else. Human history is rich in examples of people who have gone through great trials while maintaining their art and their practices. Calligrapher Li Guoxiang, for example, practised calligraphy for ten years by tracing with water on stones because nothing else was available to her to practise his art(1). Master Gu Meisheng also recounts discovering unlimited inner freedom in Chinese prisons during the Cultural Revolution.

Nevertheless, I believe they appreciated having ink, a brush and freedom when it was possible!

All things considered, we look forward to returning to the calm and focused atmosphere of the dojos as soon as possible. During this period of lockdown, when it is becoming increasingly important for everyone to maintain a daily, or at least regular, practice, if you need to, don’t hesitate to clear some space, even if it’s minimal, to refocus and take the time to practise.

On the Itsuo Tsuda School Facebook page, several members have shared their practice spaces, which you can see at the end of the article ⇓ ⇓⇓

To further our approach, we are also creating an audio podcast channel where we will share readings aloud from chapters of Itsuo Tsuda‘s books. You can listen to them in the car, on the underground, while cooking or cleaning… It’s another way to discover or rediscover these works. Visit the Soundcloud channel or YouTube. The first recording is here:

Manon Soavi

Practitioners share their home-dojo

Manon Soavi