Five minutes before class began everyone sat in seiza (a seated position with legs folded underneath). We faced the Kamiza (front wall of the dojo), and I contemplated the large scroll with the calligraphy of Aikido by Morihei Ueshiba, O’Sensei and founder of Aikido. I sat there, somewhat in disbelief, breathing and absorbing the energy of the space. The mat, packed with students wearing hakama (long pleated pants usually worn by black belts) felt stiff and slippery. I didn’t notice too many foreigners; maybe there were four or five at most. I didn’t see many women either. The crowd was mostly older Japanese men. At 6:30 am on the dot, Mitsuteru Ueshiba, also known as WakaSensei, the chief instructor of the Hombu Dojo and great-grandson of the founder, made his way up the stairs. My first class at Hombu Dojo was about to begin.
The alarm went off at 5:30 am on a Tuesday I was scheduled to leave Japan. The plan was to leave the hotel by six. On Sunday night we returned to Tokyo from Yamanashi. I stayed at the Soetsu Fresna Inn, a small budget hotel located in Roppongi. Hombu Dojo is in Shinjuku; I wondered how far was it from my hotel. I checked Google maps, and to my excitement, it was only about half an hour away! Only thing was I had to take the subway to get there. I had spent a week in Japan already and felt confident in making the trip over to the dojo. The only obstacle to get over was doing this without an interpreter or anyone else to help me around. I was truly left to trust my instincts, Google maps, and the little Japanese I have learned to get me there. This day was my last one here. There were no other opportunities. The night before, I tried to talk myself out of it by justifying the reasons not to go and telling myself, “well, I’ll be back here soon so I can always come next time.” I had already given up the idea until I read a text from Rachel.
“up to you… although no regrets.”
Now determined and a bit mad at myself for chickening out just a few minutes before, I laid down to sleep for merely four hours. I had everything ready. I packed all my luggage and stuffed my Aikido gi (uniform) in my backpack. I exited the Fresna Inn and walked to the Roppongi station that was just right up the street.
The timing was just right. I would arrive at Hombu Dojo around 6:15 in time for the 6:30 am class by Waka Sensei. After the hour-long class, I had plenty of time to make it back to the hotel, shower, and be ready to head to the airport by eleven in the morning.
“Ito San will pick you up at eleven, and she will take you to the airport,” Nakamura San told me the night before when he dropped me off at the Fresna Inn after the shoot’s wrap-up party. We went out for sushi and beers, and it was the most fun I had with the crew. We reminisced back on the crazy busy week we had just endured shooting this episode over the most delicious pieces of o-toro nigiri I have ever had. I said goodbye to the rest of the crew as I was not going to see any of them again, except for Ito San, the assistant director. The shoot was officially over. I knew this was my opportunity and I had plenty of time to make it happen.
I bought my subway ticket for the Oedo line towards Tochomae/Hikarigaoka. Five stops later, I switched trains and hopped on the same Oedo Line but instead heading towards Idabashi/Daimon. I got off at the Wakamatsu-Kawada station and walked up the stairs to the exit.
On the five minute walk from the subway station to the dojo, I contemplated on my journey here. The most fantastic trip I have ever had in my life was culminating at a place I wanted to visit since I began Aikido training 23 years ago. How many thousands of Aikido practitioners all over the world have made the same journey to come to train at, arguably, the birthplace of Aikido? I was now one of them. I thought of Toyoda Sensei and how he not only, many years ago, walked this same street I was now walking but he also lived and trained at Hombu Dojo. Heading towards Hombu Dojo, I remembered when I first made a very similar journey to train at Toyoda Sensei’s dojo in Chicago. I was 17, traveling by myself for the first time, walking the streets of Chicago on my way to the summer-long live-in training at Tenshinkan Dojo, Toyoda Sensei’s headquarters of the Aikido Association of America.
Thanks to Google street view and the many other hundreds of pictures of Hombu Dojo online, I knew the look of the building I was looking for that morning. Hombu dojo has a rather bland facade. It’s just another generic five-story concrete building in the middle of Shinjuku; if you don’t know what it looks like you will most likely walk past it. In front of the entrance, when not blocked by cars parked in front of it, one can see three wooden signs carved in calligraphy: ZAIDAN HŌJIN AIKIKAI (Aikikai Foundation), AIKIDO HOMBU DOJO (Aikido Headquarter Dojo), and AIKIDO GAKKO (Aikido School).
I entered through the glass front doors. To the right was the reception desk where a young gentleman sat behind the counter.
“Konnichi wa, ohayo gozaimasu,” I said. He repeated back the good morning greeting as I hand him my Yudansha booklet, also known as the Aikido passport. Members of the Aikikai organization receive a passport-like booklet where they record your black belt ranks and identifies you as a member of the Aikikai, which is a requirement to train at Hombu dojo. The gentleman typed some numbers on a calculator and showed them to me. 1650 yen. The cost of a one day pass to train at Hombu Dojo, I figured. I noticed doshu Moriteru Ueshiba sitting in the back of the office reading through some papers while I reached into my pocket for the cash. Hombu dojo, like most places in Japan, does not accept credit cards. Japan is mostly a cash-only country.
“Arigato gozaimasu,” I thanked him after paying, took my shoes off and stored them on the shelves to the left then headed up to the third floor to the men’s changing room. Of course, I didn’t know where the changing room was, but luckily another gentleman was entering the dojo at the same time, so I just followed him. As you walk up the stairs, you will see two pictures, one from Ueshiba Morihei, the founder, and another of Ueshiba Kisshomaru, son of the founder and second doshu. It is custom to bow to them as you pass them.
Inside the men’s changing room rows of coin-operated lockers filled the walls and with toilets and showers located on the other end of the entrance made the room feel like a typical gym locker room. Inside the training area, thin old school hard tatami mats covered the floor. Pictures of O’Sensei and Kisshomaru Sensei, along with a large Aikido scroll brushed by O’Sensei decorated the Kamiza.
I’ve seen many beautiful dojos in the United States. What they all have in common is the attention to detail in the look and feel of the place. Most instructors decorate the dojo to match traditional Japanese aesthetics to help cement the cultural connection of Aikido to Japan. Not only that but also I believe is to fulfill a somewhat romantic vision of what a traditional martial arts dojo should look and feel like. To me, Hombu Dojo felt a bit underwhelming. It wasn’t like any dojo I have ever seen. It was a big Aikido training facility, and it felt like walking into a Planet Fitness gym.
It seems that in 1968 when Kisshomaru Sensei built this new modern dojo, he was met with some resistance from some folks who felt such modernization was out of place for Aikido. However, their concerns began to lessen when in a matter of months membership at the Hombu Dojo grew dramatically validating further Kisshomaru Sensei’s vision of a large modern facility.
Waka Sensei began the class with a simple five-minute warm-up. After that, he showed the first technique, shomen-uchi iriminage, front strike to the head, entering throw. He demonstrated the technique at full speed, four times, and without explanation. He was fast, confident in his movement, dynamic and strong. He is young, about my age, and has been training in Aikido his entire life. Like his father before him, one day he will assume the title of Aikido doshuand become the head of the Aikikai. In about forty minutes, he taught eight techniques without a break. The place was jammed, so partner practice made it difficult to perform the techniques with the same speed and vitality he demonstrated. However, that didn’t make the training any less vigorous. My partner, Monica, was a German living in Japan. She’s been a Hombu Dojo student for two years, and without saying a single word, she’d correct any mistakes I made, which I appreciated it. We stayed together for the duration of the class because that’s a thing there, people don’t change partners during class, but I kept up with her pace. Throw, throw, throw. Don’t talk. Get up. Attack. Throw, throw, throw. Sensei stopped the class. Demonstrated the next technique. Four times. No explanation. Back to practice. Throw, throw, throw. I don’t consider myself out of shape, but that’s certainly not the pace I’m used to training. I liked it though and realized that sometimes dojos in the US talk too much. This class was very aerobic, and thank goodness I remembered bringing my hand towel because I was sweating!
Eventually about 45 minutes in, he let everyone grab a drink of water and have some free practice before we all lined up to end the class. Waka Sensei bowed to the Kamiza, turned, bowed to the class and we all said: “domo arigato gozaimashita.” He stood and left the mat.
As everyone began to disperse, some left the mat while others started sweeping it, I thanked Monica for being my partner and helping me through some movements that I found different to how I learned them.
“Are you staying for more practice session?”, she asked.
“No, I gotta run. I have a plane to catch in a few hours,” I said.
“Oh wow.”
“I know, I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it. I’ve been here a week and today’s my last day.”
“I’m glad you got to come and train here,” she said.
“Me too,” We bowed, and shook hands.
As I walked back towards the Wakamatsu-Kawada station, I felt lucky to have had the opportunity to make the trip to Hombu Dojo. I came here with little expectations except to train vigorously and sincerely, and that was exactly what I got. Yeah, Hombu Dojo is not a mystical place located in the far east that one must make a life-threatening journey to get there to experience an existential transformation. It merely is a sports facility looking building easily accessible via public transportation. However, this does not take away from the training that’s happening there or its historical importance to the Aikido world.
Back at Zenshinkan Dojo, I’ve been working on the techniques I learned at Hombu Dojo on Friday nights when I’m scheduled to teach. While reviewing Waka-Sensei’s class, I realized that the most important lesson I learned from training at Hombu Dojo was that we are not doing anything that much different. Back home we train hard and sincerely, and we do good Aikido. If anything, maybe going forward I will talk less during class.