Dress up. Show up. Shut Up.

...or, the most difficult aspect of budo training.

What is the most difficult aspect?  Learning how to handle complicated weapons in intricate ways, laced with deep understanding of the physical, aesthetic and philosophical underpinnings?  Learning whole stacks of ryuha?  Reading deep and obscure histories in hopes of finding clues to the origin of your style?  Writing about it?  Teaching it? 

Nope.  None of the above.  The most difficult part of learning a ryuha is -

People. 

Let's not even go into the intricacies of dealing with a practice that originated in a foreign culture over 400 years ago.  No one doubts that cultural differences are a problem; and if they say it's easily overcomable, they are either naive or lying.  But that is not what I mean.  I mean differences right here, in the US, where we presumably have language and at least a few cultural factors in common.  In spite of those similarities (or maybe even because of them), miscommunication abounds.  One would think greater access to written words (in the form of email, text, webpages, and yes, blogs) would make everything crystal clear.  Not hardly.  In fact, I would say the overdependence on writing things to each other rather than speaking or even meeting face-to-face is a big factor in miscommunication.  And once it's out there (especially electronically) it's out there, doing its bit to undermine trust, cause confusion or even make the writer look like an idiot - forever. 

After all, a complicated kata may take a very long time to learn.  Weeks, maybe, in the case of short, iai kata, on a technical level (the deeper meaning level takes as long - as it takes).  But the practitioner has an assurance, at least, that if she sticks to the practice long enough, she will eventually understand what she is doing, and why.  With humans, not so much.  Even if you know someone well, it's always like starting from Square One.  And no matter how many kata you know, one poor choice of phrase can set back a relationship, and it can take a long time to recover.

Human relations are why every now and then I meet a real budo ronin - someone who has a lot of experience, but no home dojo.  It's why federations rise, break apart, and occasionally come back together.  It's why ryuha engender "offshoots."  And it's why online budo fora can sometimes become flamepits, and why I avoid them now altogether. 

The title of this post is actually a quote from a co-worker at my day job.  She has adopted it as a strategy for surviving her daughter's wedding, set to take place this summer.  I like this idea, so I intend to use it from now on.  No more lore, no more advice.  Opinions?  Yes, but here only.  Put on the gi.  Go to the training.  Don't say anything.

Don't get me wrong.  Budo is impossible without people - people to practice with, people to learn from.  I have had some of the best times in my life with budoka, and some of them are more like family than friends (meant in both the good and bad senses).  I have also had my heart broken and been flamed; but I have also been raised up and brushed off by my budo colleagues.  I owe them more collectively, as a group, than anyone else in my life, for much of the good stuff that happens.  But if there is any theme that runs through this entire blog, it is caution with regard to the human element of budo.  It's the source of great richness, but with some occasional muck attached.