Posted by: gojuwarrior1
Essay Topic My Dojo - 02/08/07 10:16 PM
I have to do a descriptive essay on anything so i chose my dojo. Please read it and tell me what needs work and if i "brought you to my dojo" Thanks.
............................................................
MY DOJO
The feeling I get when I walk through those steel doors of my dojo is one of great anticipation. The hours that lie ahead will be filled with the pain I love to hate. The same pain I have grown accustom to over the years has become my friend. As I make my way down those damp concrete steps that hold the moisture from nights past, I can start to smell the hours of hard work that remain embedded in the soul of this place I choose to call home. The foundation is old and the paint shows signs of wear and tear from the bodies being slammed up against it trying to avoid the blows raining down on them like a mid summer shower.
Finally, I walk through a maze of punching bags and mats that lay lifeless at the moment. I make my way to my locker room to change into my Gi (Uniform). Like a soldier who puts on his Armour, I gear up and head into harms way, only there is nowhere to run in my war zone. As I get ready to make my presents known I can start to hear the repetitive chants of the other warriors who preceded me into the watchful eye of Sensei (Teacher) who sits majestically on his throne and never misses an eye blinking.
I take a deep breath and a quick sip of something to drink because I know that every cell in my body will be depleted of all sources of energy by the end of this ordeal. Upon opening the door I notice the air is thick with heat, not from mechanical sources but from the bodies beginning to warm up for the long arduous tasks ahead.
My night begins with a trek across a frost bitten floor that seems to penetrate deep inside my bones and forces me to keep moving or risk having my feet amputated. As I approach Sensei I do so in a cautious manner for he holds my fate in his hands for the night and to upset him would be a detriment to my health.
I made it safely in his presents and kneel in the traditional Japanese manner on a brisk cement floor and endure its painful pressure on my delicate knees and ankles. After I bow in I rise to my feet, right leg then left and begin to encounter a plethora of different cruel methods designed to strengthen the fragile human body. Known as body hardening techniques my body is grown accustom to pain on a different level. As my muscles begin to fill with fresh blood and loosen up I begin the transition into Kata practice. Kata is what the ancient Bushi (Warriors) devised as a method of training the body into memorizing the complex movements of combat into a dance like sequence of punches, kicks and blocks among more subtle applications.
As I glide across the dojo floor like a whirlwind in motion, I begin to be entranced in the kata- we are one. As the heat intensifies under my gi I begin to sweat profusely like an ice-cold glass of liquid sitting on a sun-baked table. My warm up is just about through and I start to focus on catching my breath and preparing for the next task at hand.
Approaching the unforgiving canvas bag I can not help but wonder how many blows this foe can endure before it finally says “uncle”, I’ve yet to find out. My mind is surging forward as my body struggles to keep pace when I hear a familiar sound of the buzzer going off. The sound reminds me of when a wasp whips by your ear so I react and start to strike the bag relentlessly, my fists and feet thumping against an opponent that never complains nor hits back but still, I have no mercy on it. Round after round my energy begins to dwindle away and my body says stop but the spirit cries never!
The last buzzer sounds and my heart is racing like a rabbit running for its life. Is it over? I ask myself, not by a long shot. Suddenly my opponent is alive and looking to replace my head with his fists. My body, now on the defensive is looking for a way out of this madness. Bobbing, weaving, just trying to survive the onslaught I begin to catch a second wind. Blows bury themselves into my flesh and I gladly return the favor so kindly giving to me. At last I hear a faint voice say Yame (stop) and I try and slow the momentum of my body in motion. My legs feel as if they are going to collapse but I bolster them with my spirit and stand tall. I bow to my opponent, whom just a moment ago was locked in mortal combat with me, is now my brother.
The battle is over; I have survived another night in the Dojo, the place I have come to call home. It will forget about the nights past and continue to keep our secrets and let us hold future engagements behind its doors. This place stands strong like a medieval castle awaiting anyone who dare challenge it. This is my Dojo.
............................................................
MY DOJO
The feeling I get when I walk through those steel doors of my dojo is one of great anticipation. The hours that lie ahead will be filled with the pain I love to hate. The same pain I have grown accustom to over the years has become my friend. As I make my way down those damp concrete steps that hold the moisture from nights past, I can start to smell the hours of hard work that remain embedded in the soul of this place I choose to call home. The foundation is old and the paint shows signs of wear and tear from the bodies being slammed up against it trying to avoid the blows raining down on them like a mid summer shower.
Finally, I walk through a maze of punching bags and mats that lay lifeless at the moment. I make my way to my locker room to change into my Gi (Uniform). Like a soldier who puts on his Armour, I gear up and head into harms way, only there is nowhere to run in my war zone. As I get ready to make my presents known I can start to hear the repetitive chants of the other warriors who preceded me into the watchful eye of Sensei (Teacher) who sits majestically on his throne and never misses an eye blinking.
I take a deep breath and a quick sip of something to drink because I know that every cell in my body will be depleted of all sources of energy by the end of this ordeal. Upon opening the door I notice the air is thick with heat, not from mechanical sources but from the bodies beginning to warm up for the long arduous tasks ahead.
My night begins with a trek across a frost bitten floor that seems to penetrate deep inside my bones and forces me to keep moving or risk having my feet amputated. As I approach Sensei I do so in a cautious manner for he holds my fate in his hands for the night and to upset him would be a detriment to my health.
I made it safely in his presents and kneel in the traditional Japanese manner on a brisk cement floor and endure its painful pressure on my delicate knees and ankles. After I bow in I rise to my feet, right leg then left and begin to encounter a plethora of different cruel methods designed to strengthen the fragile human body. Known as body hardening techniques my body is grown accustom to pain on a different level. As my muscles begin to fill with fresh blood and loosen up I begin the transition into Kata practice. Kata is what the ancient Bushi (Warriors) devised as a method of training the body into memorizing the complex movements of combat into a dance like sequence of punches, kicks and blocks among more subtle applications.
As I glide across the dojo floor like a whirlwind in motion, I begin to be entranced in the kata- we are one. As the heat intensifies under my gi I begin to sweat profusely like an ice-cold glass of liquid sitting on a sun-baked table. My warm up is just about through and I start to focus on catching my breath and preparing for the next task at hand.
Approaching the unforgiving canvas bag I can not help but wonder how many blows this foe can endure before it finally says “uncle”, I’ve yet to find out. My mind is surging forward as my body struggles to keep pace when I hear a familiar sound of the buzzer going off. The sound reminds me of when a wasp whips by your ear so I react and start to strike the bag relentlessly, my fists and feet thumping against an opponent that never complains nor hits back but still, I have no mercy on it. Round after round my energy begins to dwindle away and my body says stop but the spirit cries never!
The last buzzer sounds and my heart is racing like a rabbit running for its life. Is it over? I ask myself, not by a long shot. Suddenly my opponent is alive and looking to replace my head with his fists. My body, now on the defensive is looking for a way out of this madness. Bobbing, weaving, just trying to survive the onslaught I begin to catch a second wind. Blows bury themselves into my flesh and I gladly return the favor so kindly giving to me. At last I hear a faint voice say Yame (stop) and I try and slow the momentum of my body in motion. My legs feel as if they are going to collapse but I bolster them with my spirit and stand tall. I bow to my opponent, whom just a moment ago was locked in mortal combat with me, is now my brother.
The battle is over; I have survived another night in the Dojo, the place I have come to call home. It will forget about the nights past and continue to keep our secrets and let us hold future engagements behind its doors. This place stands strong like a medieval castle awaiting anyone who dare challenge it. This is my Dojo.
