I was running a bit behind, but still with enough time that I wouldn’t be late.
I parked the car, put my training bag on my back and grabbed my practice naginata.
Approaching the park was a curious sight, a dozen or so students waiting around near the main gate rather than heading into the park to start warming up.
During the summer we had been meeting on Thursday evenings just before sundown to get some additional practice in and the informal group from the dojo had grown enough that it was almost considered a regular class at this point.
Normally they would be in the park at our usual spot, ready to begin when the senior student arrived, and that explained why everybody was still standing around.
Something had happened and the senior student would not be able to make it tonight, which means in the hierarchy of the dojo the responsibility falls to the next senior student in the group which apparently for this night was me.
Training gear in hand we entered through the main gate, following our path up the hill to our spot.
About halfway there I stopped and that sudden motion was enough to cascade through the line of other students as they also stopped one by one.
I announced we were going to the second spot tonight, which wasn’t a bad spot, but it wasn’t our spot.
The first question from a junior student was why?
Our sport was already occupied by a person.
A colorful mat rolled out on the ground, standing on all fours, rapidly breathing in and out deeply.
Occupied.
They were well into their own world, their own practice.
Why not just start class near them and they will leave?
That question was understandable and tolerated because they were one of the newest members of the group.
Because of respect, and well they were her first.
The alternate spot was on the opposite side of the hill, still in view of our spot, and everybody quickly got into their gear.
We were about to start the practice when I announced we are moving to the third spot.
What third spot?
We don’t have a third spot.
Tonight we do.
The clearing on the other side of the hill, next to the parking lot.
We had now walked the park full circle.
After our practice one of the junior students asked why we moved again, they genuinely wanted to understand.
It was a matter of respect.
That person practicing their asana’s had a quality about them, and while I don’t know the transmissions of those postures, I do know enough from experience to tell the presence of a person. From the opposite side of the park, they might not have seen us, but they would have felt the quality of our movement, and that would have disturbed their own practice.
That would be rude of us, and not in the spirit of budo.
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