In common imagination, devotion is a quality that fascinates. An attitude that inspires admiration, evoking that sense of wholeness and pure selflessness that we admire so much and yet sometimes struggle to express in our daily lives.

Does it make sense to speak of devotion in martial disciplines? Is it a value? And if so, under what conditions?

To answer these questions and reflect on them for a moment, let us start with the word itself. Devotion is a term rooted in religious worship: the offerings made by the ancient Romans to the gods in order to gain their favor.

Its meaning- which, moreover, runs through the spiritual and religious experiences of all ages -points toward the sacred: the giving of something, or even everything, of oneself for something or someone transcendent with whom one has a relationship.

On a much more practical level, our experiences are filled with examples of dedication. A mother devotes herself entirely to her child. Teachers, doctors, nurses, law enforcement officers, rescue volunteers… Many people direct their energy and their lives toward noble causes.

Does this happen in martial disciplines as well? Certainly, although perhaps less visibly. Yet if there are organizations and sports associations that consistently provide Martial Arts courses within communities, it is because many people devote a significant part of their lives to spreading their principles. To contribute to the education of young people. To share a passion that significantly improves the daily experience of youth, adults, and seniors.

From a legal perspective, these individuals are considered “sports professionals”. Some receive compensation, usually hourly or in fixed amounts. As a consequence, making this profession a livelihood requires increasing teaching hours. This means growing student numbers, multiplying classes, and maintaining continuity over the years.

To literally make a living, a Martial Arts teacher must therefore reconcile the sacred aspect of devotion with the practical demands of sustainability. Today, sustainability means learning to navigate communication, promotion, and diversification-elements that allow one to be chosen within the leisure market.

Perhaps for such reason, there is a small group of teachers who have left everything behind to dedicate themselves entirely to teaching. Like every radical act of devotion, this choice often brings misunderstandings, even within family relationships. The obvious economic consequences of leaving a “secure” occupation to pursue this path often amplify criticism and daily difficulties.

There are Dojo where the burden of sustainability is effectively distributed among the community that belongs to them. For some, this becomes a conscious way of supporting the teacher and recognizing that such a choice benefits the group. Others remain indifferent to this aspect.

Now, these levels of devotion exert a particular fascination, just as mentioned at the beginning. Very often they attract people, ignite passion, and stimulate a fruitful mechanism of imitation. It is no coincidence that teachers with this kind of fire often generate new generations of teachers who continue their work.

Yet this is precisely where a subtle and dangerous misunderstanding may hide. The totality of devotion does not necessarily concern technical or didactic aspects. Imitating an example is one thing; continuing to develop the gifts received from one’s teachers is another; copying outward appearances while neglecting all the inner work- and personal choices- is something entirely different.

Across martial experiences, and particularly in Aikido, one often sees clones and less frequently “sons and daughters” Even among those who feel connected through a kind of lineage born on the tatami, relationships are not always functional. Ambivalence, manipulation, occasional clarity, subtle role-playing within constant practice, rank recognition, and titles all emerge.

Perhaps because many dysfunctions exist within biological families as well. Perhaps because a martial discipline is an evolutionary journey of discovering and accepting limits. Perhaps because finality and total commitment are frightening in an incredibly fluid society.

Perhaps, then, we should place at the center not only the person in general, but above all, within Martial Arts, the student -for who they truly are.

Particularly in Aikido: a discipline that can and should offer its immense potential to every age group. An activity that leaves nobody sitting on the bench. And therefore one that requires a careful and dedicated approach from teachers who are prepared and devoted, yes.

But not because abandoning everything to teach is necessary. Rather, because finding balance is essential in understanding how much of oneself can be given to others -and in what way. To the sacred dimension we all share.

Otherwise, we become mere replicators of others’ journeys, unconsciously imposing devotion to technique and a total commitment that students cannot have. That they should not have. Yet over time they may develop it—or they may simply continue attending classes because…

Because they feel comfortable. Because they feel cared for. Because their friends are there. Because they feel safer… who knows? Students’ reasons are not teachers’ reasons. It is the teachers’ responsibility to understand the former so that the former may gradually come to understand what teachers are pointing toward.

So, is devotion a value? Yes -but only if we understand what it truly is and how deeply it connects us with the truest part of ourselves.

Disclaimer: Picture by CottonBro from Pexels