Among the unintended consequences of modern commercial culture is the habit of turning human relationships into deals. We do it in the name of fairness. Fairness is better than unfairness. But it is a degraded basis for human relationships, and it doesn’t work in a dojo.

If you have a marriage where each person insists on only doing 50 percent, the marriage will be unhappy. It’s not my hour to baby sit, or, you didn’t come up with your percentage of the electric bill. The bickering will be endless, and eventually the baby will be unwatched, and the lights will go out, and the effort spent on settling grievances will exhaust the couple. If each person is committed to doing 100 percent, then the marriage will be happy. Each person can totally rely on the other, no matter what. It’s a wonderful feeling. But if one person is committed to the 100 percent, and the other to something less, then there will be exploitation and unhappiness. So what really works is everyone giving everything they can. That is the opposite of what we learn in the marketplace. In a store, in a deal, in a contract, in a negotiation, we seek to give the least and get the most. This may create an efficient distribution of scare resources, but kindness and generosity are not scarce resources. It is possible to produce them endlessly.

Stinginess and mistrust cannot be carried over into dojo life, if the dojo is going to function as a place of liberation. Each person has to understand that by giving the most, they get the most. If we go all-out in our training, we get as strong as possible. If we hold

Back, we don’t. If we seek out opportunities to help others learn, we benefit by having a chance to shift perspective, and by making the effort to analyze and convey the karate techniques properly, we gain deeper insight into them ourselves. We also build the habit of leading based on taking responsibility for the achievement of others.  We will not get these benefits by being stingy with our time or energy or by remaining alone and unchallenged.

Money is important to people, so in my dojo we kept it very simple. No fundraising, no special fees, no founder’s birthday donations, no seminars, no goods for sale, no extras, no shakedowns, no surprises. And not free. You paid your membership dues. There was no limit on what you got back. Because people paid something, they valued what they got. Usually, teachers of free community center, garage and basement classes quit teaching after a short time. It is good to be generous with your time and money. However, you will not be helping people if you exhaust yourself without appreciation and mutual support. If everyone pitches in, then everyone in the dojo has a forum in which to be generous and to work their hardest. Nobody feels cheated or taken advantage of.

We are so accustomed to giving the least and getting the most, so on guard against being taken advantage of, that we may also forget that commerce can be good. A free and fair exchange of value benefits both parties. If you have grain and need cloth, and you meet someone who has cloth and needs grain and you trade, it’s good. If there is coercion, greed or deception driving the exchange, it is not good.

The model for relationships in the dojo sometimes got people thinking about the other relationships in their lives. One dojo member felt he was being treated unfairly at work. He walked away from the job one day and the next week they called him, and hired him back for more pay.

One woman, a beginner, came to class and cried all the way through. She did every move well, never daydreamed or wobbled, but through the warm-ups, the basics, the kata practice, tears poured down. As she was leaving I said, “Hey, what’s wrong?” She just

shook her head. For the first time in her life, at home, when a slap was coming toward her, she backed up out of the way instead of freezing in place. That did it. All hell broke loose. She was out of there. Did karate practice give her that ability? Did being part of a group of strong people? She had joined only a month before because she wanted to be able to defend herself.