Anyone reading these pages is likely familiar with the term Dojo (道場), the place where one lives the path, the Do.

Today, however, we speak of Nyokodo (如己堂), literally, “the hall (of love) as for oneself.”

The world of martial practice is quite polarized when it comes to the topic of love. On some tatami, even mentioning it is nearly heresy. In others, it is simply seen as something unrelated to the purely physical dimension of training. Elsewhere, it is an integral part of the discipline. And in some places, the spiritual aspect takes precedence over the purely technical aspects of the art.

We speak of this because the times demand it. Peace is becoming increasingly fragile, both within nations and among peoples. Incredible violence is presented as reasonable, and the rule of law increasingly gives way to the vulgarity of proclamations. The so-called “World Leaders”… follow petty paths, deepening inequalities.

We speak of this because, as Aikido practitioners in particular, and more generally as people walking a path, we are all called to build within ourselves the awareness that peace is the ultimate goal of our training.

We speak of this, finally, because the roots of our practice lie in Japanese sensibility. And it is from that very sensibility that Nyokodo was born. More precisely, from the darkest page of recent world history-when Japan was plunged into nuclear hell. A hell that seems so distant, yet glows on the horizon of our days.

Paulo Takashi Nagai was a radiologist working in the hospital bunker of Nagasaki on August 9, 1945, when the second bomb fell. Though gravely wounded, he survived and spent the next three days treating the injured without pause.

Only after three days he was able to return to Urakami, the suburb of Nagasaki where he lived with his wife, Marina Midori Moriyama. Their children had already been evacuated to the countryside to stay with their grandparents.

His home was reduced to ashes. A few charred bones beside a rosary melted by the heat -Takashi had found what remained of his wife.

Revenge? Despair? Hatred? Giving up?

Let us consider our own emotional reactions to the news we see every day -the relentless stream of horrors fed to us. Even among those who devote themselves to the formal study of conflict in our Dojos, many begin to express their own polarization:
“It’s the aggressor’s fault.”
“No, it’s the other’s fault for they have been provoking.”
“No, wait, we should deport them back to where they came from.”
“Oh no, actually, we must build more walls…”

And so it goes, amplifying forces greater than ourselves. We stop being students of conflict and, worse, become complicit in a world without peace.

Takashi Nagai, as soon as he saw the grass begin to grow again, made a decision: he would build the Nyokodo.

A four-square-meter hut where, from 1948 until his death from leukemia in 1951, he lived with his two children.

Four. Square. Meters. Two tatami.

What can we do with just two tatami?
Can we change the world standing on two tatami?

Takashi and his wife did. Not in the way we might expect -wars continue, injustices persist.

But in the midst of total devastation, in the atomic wasteland, that humble shack became the beating heart of a new force. A man crushed by life, terminally ill, set into motion the reconstruction of a hospital, a church, and spaces where people could care for one another.

Because in the end, one cannot speak of love without seeing in others another self.

The Nagasaki region has long been a place where the presence of Japanese Christians led to brutal persecutions over the centuries. Midori’s family led the underground Christian community through nearly three centuries of Japan’s total isolation.

What was meant to erase every trace of life with an atomic bomb instead gave birth to a paradox. That which was at its weakest point brought new life.

Sara and I make no secret of our faith. We try to be Christians. Whether we succeed or not is not for us to say.

The practice of martial arts brings us into contact not only with different sensibilities, forms, and spiritualities, but also with people of all kinds, each with their own experiences, each with their own perspective. They deserve respect.

Aikido is both a physical and spiritual experience and serves as a great laboratory for healthy secularism. Caring for one’s partner; being mindful not to harm; striving to create opportunities for growth, evolution, and the best version of ourselves and the society we are part of -these are noble goals.

Morihei Ueshiba spoke openly of love:

“This universe is composed of many different parts, yet the universe as a whole is united like a family and symbolizes the final state of peace. With such a vision of the universe, Aikido can only be a martial art of love.”
(Interview, 1957)

And elsewhere, he declared:

“There will be no peace on Earth as long as we remain preoccupied with our petty affairs and continue to trouble each other. Good or bad, we all belong to the same family created by God. God wants us to keep this family united and harmonious. To fulfill His will, we must abandon all attachments and avoid relative distinctions. Fortunately, we can serve God by creating an ideal human society through the practice of Aikido.”

The ravings of an old fanatic? The visions of a mystic? The manipulations of a founder? Or sparks of truth?

Each must reach their own conclusion. What is undeniable is that people like Takashi Nagai lived and witnessed -not only to detachment and the abandonment of all attachment but also to love as for oneself, becoming tireless promoters of goodness.

That is what humanity needs. That is what we need.

And it is something anyone can understand.

The greatness of Aikido -and Budo, properly understood- is its ability to lead anyone to see their training partner as another self. That is where the sacredness of a Dojo lies.

Witnesses like Takashi Nagai show us the next level -something a Dojo alone cannot provide, but also something that a Dojo itself needs: transformation into a nyokodo, a place where we understand why and for whom we must love others as ourselves.

Edit: What we have sought to communicate in these lines is the reason why, in “our” Dojo, we have chosen to place, alongside the photos of Jigoro Kano and Morihei Ueshiba, the photos of Takashi and Midori Nagai.