For example, "Why are you interested in learning karate?"

If a punk just offers a sadistic smile or he drools, "I want to kill the Boys Vice-Principal at my high school with my bare hands!" instead of a responsible, socially acceptable answer, he is politely turned away.

Some folks will say "self defense" or "I want to build my self-confidence," which are perfectly suitable replies.

But why don't they buy a gun or take a public speaking course? These will do the trick a lot faster, won't they?

The REAL reason people sign-up and persist over the course of years and years is that they're probably seeking something deeper, perhaps a spiritual breakthrough, a better understanding of other people and themselves, or transcendence above their fears.

They may not even be in touch with their motivations, or they could be embarrassed by them.

Who wants to admit "I hate it when I'm on a date and other guys hit on my girl and I'm afraid to confront them!"

Not a few people join health clubs to meet mating material, but they'll say they're going to get into shape. Nothing prevents them from doing both, and one may increase the odds of achieving the other, and all of this is perfectly rational.

Also, motivations change. The loner who joined a dojo to feel tougher and more independent finds a new cohort of friends there, and feeling a commitment to his or her training partners, sticks around for the camaraderie, the pleasure of belonging, and the overall experience.

Do YOU need a dojo?

This is a very difficult question to answer.

In systems theory there is a concept known as "equifinality." Literally, it means you could take kenpo karate and I could sign up for a public speaking class and we'd both experience an equal outcome with regard to heightened self-confidence.

You'd be better at asserting yourself with your hands and feet and I'd be better with words and gestures, but still, we'd end up, more or less in the same place.

If, for instance, initially we shared the goal of becoming better salespeople we'd both have new and transferable skills.

You might be better at prospecting on foot and opening potentially hostile business doors, and being unafraid of getting tossed out on your ear, and I might be better on the phone, persuading folks to see me by appointment, but in the end, our sales might improve equally.

I had a professor and teaching mentor who said, "Gary, college doesn't do a lot of people much good, except it gets them off the streets, into a safe atmosphere during some crucial developmental years. They grow-up, and they attribute their new wisdom to their studies, but they would have grown-up anywhere during those years."

Substitute the word "dojo" for "college" and the same precept might apply.

But, and this is crucial, there are truths and insights to be discovered in both places, secrets and revelations, that come only to those who seek them energetically, and who don't rest until they have found them.

You can earn a degree and still be an airhead, and you can find a drive-through type of dojo to McTrain you to the "black belt" level in record time. But you won't leave the experience with much more than you entered with.

Robert Pirsig said, "The only Zen you discover on a mountain top is that which you brought up there with you."

I believe I was a black belt when I entered the dojo for the first time. I didn't have the specific training yet, but with eight years of guidance from my instructors and peers, I earned the piece of cloth that proved it.

One of the pleasures of persistence and the achievement it brings is that you can enjoy the luxury of looking down from your perch and wondering if the long climb was worth the sacrifice, or was even necessary.

In my case, the answer is yes.

Who knows whether you'll agree when you reach the summit?

Should you take karate or Dale Carnegie?

Why not climb both?