Six individuals make up the core group of our Kunren Sukisha Dojo in Austin Texas. Sometimes with the stragglers we have up to fifteen. More often only four or five show up to train. We don't have a nice building to train in (yet), and practice outside in the heat and cold. There isn't any expensive training equipment. The students have to buy their own materials if they want to train. The training mats are worn from use in the elements from practicing ukemi and kaiten. We don't make a lot of money from students or seminars. Our teacher doesn't drive a new car or have a cellular phone. Its just us. But we are a fine example of dojo.

Historically the concept of a dojo dates back to the Samurai, who used training halls to teach large armies of men combat techniques. There were huge schools or "Ryu" for families and clans from the different territories of Japan to train in. After the warring period of Japans history the dojo evolved into a facility for training in the combat "arts", transforming the skills of war into a system of personal self defense and spiritual enlightenment. Which brings us to modern day dojos, which for the most part are training facilities for self defense purposes only.

I believe that a dojo is not just a facility. A dojo is more than a training hall or building where martial artists gather. It is a group of solid, like-minded individuals that have common goals to train and better themselves as human beings. It is like family. They should be our closest friends. And without the cooperative efforts of its members a group never becomes a true dojo. The quality of the members and not the sum of them completes the equation. (The whole is greater than the sum of its parts) The quality of a persons character outweighs their martial arts skills. The skill comes with time. (Heck, I'm still working on my own!)

It takes a good friend with a mutual understanding to train. The pain shared with each other through joint locks, throws, kicks, and punches is enough to make the average person get pretty angry. But with understanding and consideration of your Uke or Tori, the pain means nothing. We can get up from the mat with a grimacing smile saying "Ooh.. good one" without the desire to beat them senseless. It's a desire to learn, without ego or pride, and with compassion. Forget the fact we're actually learning how to hurt someone. We don't need to hurt each other or fight internal battles within the group. No bad-asses allowed please. Hatsumi himself said "We have no time for the idly curious, or mentally unstable."

I am a new student of Ninjutsu and a novice to this art. I am convinced that without the support of my training group, this could have been another passing fad for me. The insight I was given from the beginning furthered my interest in Ninjutsu, and gave me the personal curiosity to delve deeper into the subjects being taught. (And I'm finding that the deeper you go with Ninjutsu, the deeper it gets. Its like never hitting bottom.) The initial curiosity gave birth to great desire and then a "lust" for more knowledge of Ninjutsu, and Ninpo. Now I live and breathe it. The teachings of Ninpo are being integrated into every part of my life. Still, as much as this is a personal art and a selfish one, there is no substitute for the fine group of Bujinkan friends that help along the path.

Ninpo Ikkan.

Chris Crane, a native Texan, is a new student of Ninjutsu and current Ichi Ka (number one student) of the Austin Kunren Sukisha Dojo under Instructor Kendall Kelsoe. Chris is a proud member of the American Bujinkan Dojo through Richard and Linda Van Donk. Other than his love of Ninjutsu Chris enjoys Japanese language studies, Japanese history, desktop publishing, graphics design, and sketch art. Guitar playing and hiking also top the list. (And watching old cartoon re-runs of "The Tick"). He currently works as a PC technical support specialist for Packard Bell, and previously Compaq and Dell Computer Corporation. He can be reached by his Prodigy Internet E-Mail address at jalq55b@prodigy.com.

This interview was done by Ilan Gattegno in 1988.