Aikido writings

My friend sent me couple pieces on aikido.  Just thought I share them with you:

Ukemi is like a conversation 

if you grab but then walk away, you are not talking

If your center is not connected, it’s like you are actually thinking about something else

if as uke you roll too soon, it’s as if you have made an assumption as to what nage’ is going to say or what thier feeling or opinion is

if you plant and lock down tight, it’s as if you are purposefully blocking them out or ignoring them

if you push hard or fight what they are trying to do, it’s as if you are yelling at them

if you grab like a handshake, reaching for center, aware and sensitive,

skillful ukemi is like a heartfelt conversation.

---

Aikido is full of paradox.

It is very subtle and sublime.

Extension versus strength

Being grounded while being mobile

having great posture without being stiff

The river flows naturally, blending with the landscape before it,

changing its shape while maintaining its form.

The large boulder, solid and impenetrable,

does not  succeed in stopping the river.

The body of water does not cling to the rock, grab it or hold it.

Perhaps it just pushes just slightly into the boulder as the river simply passes by.

In fact the boulder is slowly eroded by the water on it’s way to the ocean.

Ultimately it is not the land that shapes the water but the water that shapes the land.

We endeavor in aikido to emulate this quality in our mind, body and spirit.

Allow oneself to be the river.

My personal hope is that through manifesting aikido in my life

I can slowly erode the hardness, the anger and the clinging despair of the boulders in my life

and the boulder i know that i can be.

 

 

Initial connection

So lately, I’ve been playing with making that initial connection with uke - before and upon making physical contact.  It is a connection that I sometimes find myself skipping in my rush to “do” a technique.  Aside from not having uke’s center right off the back, not making that first connection means I end up trying to make that connection while I’m doing the technique.   It’s like trying to start your car when it’s already moving down the road in traffic.  Instead of doing the technique, I spend the majority of the time acquiring uke’s center.  Lots of work with no guarantee of success.

I would like to start that engine and keep it going.  That means connecting with uke and acquiring his center right from the get-go.  What does that really mean? 

Awhile back, my friend Chris Moses - who used to train at Two Cranes Aikido but is now studying Icho Ryu Aikibudo - told me about the three phases to any throw: kuzushi-tsukuri-kake.  They are judo concepts but are applicable to aikido as well.

Kuzushi is balance breaking.  It is in this phase that the initial connection must be made.  Otherwise, as my Sensei is apt to say, we might as well have tea.  But this connection, I think, has a very specific purpose: to acquire uke’s center so that you can compromise his balance.  That, quoting from the Ford commercial from long ago - is “Job One.”  It can be very overt - katate-dori, moving off the line, extending uke so he’s off balance.  Or it can be subtle - like when Ikeda Sensei touches uke’s hand ever so slightly in one direction then immediately moving in opposite direction.  Quoting from Chris, “uke should still have some of their balance, it’s just that they’ve become compromised.”

Once broken, nage must not give back uke’s balance.  You do this, and I’m quoting Chris again, “by applying constant forward pressure and very specific weight shifting (often while uke is stuck/double weighted).”  This is the tuskuri phase.  In essense, you lock uke so that he continues to be off balanced throughout the entire technique.  Lock is probably not a good word since it implies you’re fixing uke into a static position.  More accurately, you’re applying pressure at the point of contact and shifting weight appropriately so that uke maintains his unbalanced shape as he moves through the technique.  Uke should feel he’s compromised at all times and given no choice but to fall or be thrown (kake phase) in the end. 

All of it starts with that initial connection.  Too often, I find myself attempting kuzushi after the technique has started.  If uke is nice, I’ll have many chances to do that.  But more likely, I’ll get bopped in the head because uke is completely balanced and in a position to attack me - while I’m busy trying to figure out why I don’t have his balance.

It seems straightforward conceptually.  But in practice, it’s extremely difficult.  This is because the initial contact last less than a second, if that.  You have that short of a time to connect, acquire uke’s center, and break it.  Then you have keep uke unbalanced.  That’s assuming you recognize uke is unbalanced to begin with.  Sometimes you can’t tell visually.  You just have to feel it.  That’s where being really connected helps - you’ll know how uke is positioned and weighted so you can reacquire his center if you need to. 

As for keeping uke unbalanced throughout - I think the one key thing to remember is that aikido techniques work because uke’s balance is broken.  I can not think of any technique that will work if uke is stable. None. But we so often focus on the movements of the hands and feet that we forget that uke is there.  Lately, I have been finding myself looking up during a technique and realizing that uke is standing straight up smiling at me - as in “Hi, remember me?  You don’t have me and you’re toast.”

Someone once said - I forget who - that the throw is an afterthought.  All the important stuff happens before the throw.  The throw is the easiest part, assuming you’ve done everything right before it.  To me, that means making that initial connection and breaking uke’s balance - all in the microsecond before or upon contact.  Then keeping uke off balance throughout the technique.  That means reducing the number of reacquisition attempts.  Like shuffling my feet.  Bad habit.  More precision.  One seamless connection throughout - from start to finish.

 

Joy

Last weekend, Two Cranes Aikido held a mini seminar taught by Kimberly Richardson Sensei and Joanne Veneziano Sensei (of Emerald City Aikido) in celebration of O’Sensei’s passing.  It was also exam day for two nidan candidates.

As much as I want to spend the next few paragraphs describing what both Senseis taught that day and how wonderful the two nidan exams were, what I really want to do is write about this white belt that I trained with that day, an aikidoka who, despite having been diagnosed with a life threatening disease, showed such joy during practice and opened my eyes to what O’Sensei really meant when he said “train with joy.”

This white belt is not from my dojo and I don’t think she’s a raw beginner as I’ve seen her at other seminars and classes.  But on that day, she got on the mat with a “port” installed on neck.  Apparently, this was installed by her doctor so that medicine could be injected into her.  She volunteered the info when I asked if I was hurting her by placing my hand near that area.  She said it was fine and that the port is part of her treatment for cancer.

I’m like “what?!?”  What is she doing training?  She definitely doesn’t look like someone who is undergoing cancer treatment.  In hindsight, I realize she probably hasn’t started treatment and that maybe that Saturday was the last time she would train for awhile.  But even then, I was shocked.  If I was diagnosed with a life threatening disease, if I  was told I would have to go through months of grueling chemotherapy or radiation therapy, and if I just had a port installed into my neck, the last thing I would want to do is train.  My instinct would be to hide at home and prepare myself physically and mentally for the ordeal that is to come.

But here she was, on the mat, training as if it was any other day.  She was smiling and laughing.  Of course, who knows what anguish she might be feeling inside but for all outward appearances, she seem to be enjoying herself.  I wanted to baby her, not throw her too hard or move too fast.  But she would have none of it.  At one point, I asked if she wanted to sit and watch Sensei demonstrate.  She thought I said if she wanted to sit out.  She said, “No! I’m not gonna let it stop me.”  It, I assume, meant the disease.  She said those words with such conviction.  I couldn’t help but be impressed.

Being brave in the face of adversity is difficult for me.  Saying “It isn’t going to stop me” is not an automatic response.  My natural tendency is to hide when overwhelmed.  I have to force myself into action, often after much whining and bitching.  Even then, I do so grudgingly and very curmudgeonly.  Let’s just say you wouldn’t want to be around me when I’m in one of those moods.  Those who know me knows exactly how I am when I’m like that

And that’s when faced with non-life threatening situations.  I really don’t know what I’ll be like if and when I have to deal with something that may end my life.  I honestly don’t know if I can deal as well as this white belt can.  I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to get myself onto the mat and train.

That’s why this white belt made such an impression on me.  She is facing a life threatening disease yet she found the strength to face the world. 

I’ve been dealing with a recurring health issue myself.  But it’s not serious - not compared to cancer or any of the many you’re-gonna-die disease.  It’s more annoying than anything else although it can be quite stressful if I let it be - and I do.  On that Saturday, I was having one of my “bad” days.  The fact that I was at the dojo was a miracle in itself - from my perspective anyways.  Then I trained with this white belt and I’m like “this can’t be a coincidence.”  It’s as if someone up there is trying to teach me a lesson: Look at this white belt.  She has cancer and she’s training - with joy!  What you have is nothing compared to what she has.  Stop whining!

For those of us who are not the optimistic, glass half-full, devil-may-care type, It’s easy to feel sorry for yourself when things go awry.  It’s easy to bitch, moan, and be overly dramatic about the smallest things.  What this white belt showed me is that there are others who are worse off - people with cancer, people starving, people living in war torn countries in which each sunrise is a miracle, and people locked in a basement by their crazy father/grandfather (sorry, couldn’t resist).  More importantly, these people will often find joy even when circumstances dictate otherwise.  For a pessimist like me, that is a very alien concept.  Yet we see it happen all the time.  What a testament to the human spirit.  Perhaps this resilience is one of the things that O’Sensei wanted to capture by creating aikido - when all hell breaks loose, can our spirit endure?

“Just when you think you can’t go lower, you can.”  That’s what we tell people doing koshinages as they attempt to load uke on their backs.  Likewise, “Just when you think you can’t go on, you can.”  

The white belt’s joy was infectious.  I had a hard time being depressed on that “bad” day.  And thanks to her, I have a different take on my health issue.

I will probably continue to bitch and moan.  And no, my friends shouldn’t expect me to be Mr. Sunshine.  But I will try to not let little things get me down and stop me from living.  And most certainly, I won’t let them stop me from training - with joy.

 

Learning

I went to the intro class last night.  To my surprise, it was a full class, consisting of both new beginners and white belts (those who have completed the intro series).   It was good to see new blood in the dojo.  As I trained with the beginners, I’m reminded of what one of our blue belts told me the other day. 

This blue belt is gearing up for her nikyu test.  I’ve been helping her here and there.  It’s been a long road for her - she’s had to overcome a lot of physical and mental obstacles.  I think in terms of years, she has trained nearly as long as I have.  That she continues to train vigorously is a testament to her fortitude.

Anyways, the other day, she told me that she really appreciates my patience with her.  This was after showing her repeatedly how to do a yonkyo pin.  She said she knows she’s a slow learner.  For her, learning begins with her intellectualizing what she sees.  She’s definitely not one of those people who can learn by simply watching.  It’s actually not surprising given that she’s a very well respected clinical psychotherapist, a rather intellectual profession if there ever was one. 

The comment made me think about how people learn.  For this blue belt, it all starts in the head.  For me, I learn by doing.  I also learn by watching but I get a lot more from actually doing whatever it is I’m learning.  At first, I thought this only applied to physical activities like aikido.  But in hindsight, I realize that’s how I am in general.  For example, I’m very technically savvy.  It’s not because I’ve read every book there is about technology (actually, I don’t read any).  It’s not because I surf YouTube for techie videos (I don’t).  All of my technical skills comes from actually working on computers.  It might be programming or it might be upgrading my computer with a new video card. Put me in a classroom and lecture me for hours on end and I’ll be bored out of my mind.  Put me in a classroom and give me a project to work on and I’ll be as happy as can be.

Perhaps that’s why I get bored with teachers who lecture on and on about aikido.  Just show me the technique and let me try it.  But for someone like the blue belt, the lecture is what’s needed to spark the learning process.

Last night, my friend who was the Sensei for the intro class asked me if there was anything he could have done to improve the class.  First, given that I haven’t taught a single aikido class, I felt a bit unqualified to answer.  But after some thought, I said no - at least in as far as how he demonstrated the technique.  The truth is that the demonstration you do up front as Sensei is only a small part of the teaching process.  You can only say and show so much when you’re up there.  Each student will get different amount of information depending on how he or she learns.  The majority of the teaching process, in my humble opinion (and as someone who has taught tae kwon do back in the day), is done while the students are practicing what you have just shown as you go around instructing individually.  It is during these one-on-one that an instructor can custom tailor their teachings according to each student’s learning ability.

The challenge is recognizing what that ability is for a particular student.  Not everyone is like the blue belt - you can’t expect him or her to tell you.  Often times, they don’t know it themselves.  I suppose that is something that comes with teaching experience. 

There is a rule in most dojos that one should refrain from talking while practicing aikido.  You should learn by watching Sensei.  You should steal Sensei’s technique by observing.  You should then practice in silence, learning as much as you can by doing.   That rule works for me given how I learn.  And I think it’s a good rule in general.  But now, I can’t help but think it may not necessarily work for everyone.  Some people need to ask questions.  They need things explained to them in words.  Strict adherence of the rule may turn these students away from aikido.

But we don’t want the mat to be filled with conversations.  That is certainly not acceptable - in aikido or in any classroom.  So I think there needs to be a balance of some sort.  I think this is where etiquette comes into play.  Our dojo actually does this very well.  We encourage students to ask questions.  But like a classroom, there’s a time and place for those questions.  For example, questions are not allowed when Sensei is demonstrating up front.  Questions are allowed when the instructor is working with you individually.  Even then, there’s a limit.  You certainly don’t want to carry out a conversation with Sensei.  Ask your question, get an answer, then continue practice.  If you have more questions, ask Sensei after class or if she comes around again to work with you. 

The approach has worked very well for our dojo.  I don’t think anyone has ever left because they couldn’t learn what was being taught.  It is, I’m sure, one reason why the blue belt is still training.  Anywhere else, she might have already quit. 

And when you think about it, adapting to a student’s learning ability is no different from listening to uke.  Imposing one learning method is like forcing uke to move when he or she clearly doesn’t want to move.  Of course, each teacher has his or her own favorite teaching style but a successful teacher, I suspect, will adapt as needed.  Our Sensei certainly does - she’s adept at teaching visually through her demonstrations and through words.  She switches between the two seeminglessly throughout a demo, maximizing the amount of information coming out of her. 

I hope to teach aikido one day.  It’ll be awhile I think.  Helping my kohais is a good start.  And understanding how everyone learns differently will definitely help.

 

Starting anew at a new dojo

Recently, a nikyu from another local dojo joined our dojo.  I won’t go into the reasons why she did the move.  Suffice to say that there were elements of the old dojo that convinced her that she needed to train elsewhere.  As I watch her attempt to adjust to the new community that is our dojo, I can’t help but feel sympathy.  It seems she is struggling really hard to fit in - both in terms of waza and socially.  It reminds me very much of my own attempt to start anew when I moved to Seattle from San Francisco Bay Area four years ago. 

I was a 3rd kyu then.  Two Cranes Aikido, in hindsight, was a good fit for me because at the time, I was really into the teachings of Takeda Shihan.  My ukemi was well suited to the dojo’s energetic waza.  I think that was the key.  I didn’t feel like I had to adjust a whole lot ukemi or waza wise.  Also, and this is also important - I was prepared to start over.  That meant giving up my 3rd kyu if need be and starting over as a white belt.  I had no problem with that since it’s the training that was important, not the rank. 

I think a lot of this nikyu’s difficulty is in her expectations of how she’d fit into the dojo and what she expects to accomplish.  Based on my conversations with her, it seems she expected to be treated like a nikyu, even though she has only trained at the dojo for a few weeks.  I told her that it takes time for Sensei to get an idea of her skill level.  This is particularly so given that the style of her old dojo is vastly different from ours. 

But I can see where’s she coming from.  It’s typical of westerners to expect something like rank to carry over from place to place.  But in the world of aikido, and martial arts in general, that is not always the case.  There are many factors such as whether you’re moving to a dojo that’s in the same organization as your old dojo.  If so, you may very well be able to keep the rank since testing standards are the same.  Ultimately, I think, the decision rests with the Sensei.  And that’s where the assumption you’ll have to start anew comes into play.  It can be tricky to ask to keep your current rank.  There is the etiquette factor - generally, it’s bad form to ask.  There is also, as I mentioned before, the skill factor - is this student up to the dojo’s standard for the rank?  As the student, it is always safe to assume you’ll have to start over.  In fact, if you do ask Sensei about your current rank, it’s a good idea to start off by stating your willingness to be a white belt - not only out of respect for Sensei but also as a way to show your earnestness as a new student.

The other difficulty that I think the nikyu is experiencing is the challenge of fitting in socially.  Our dojo community is fairly close.  We are definitely friendly but sometimes, we are more friendly to each other than to “outsiders” like the nikyu.  I hate to make this comparison but it is very much like high school.  Again, my heart goes out to her.  I hated high school and I hate trying to fit in anywhere socially.  To tell you the truth, given my general unease with social situations, I wonder how I ever fitted into the community in the first place.  Maybe someone at the dojo can tell me.  In any case, I understand what she’s going through.  But the fact that I was able to acclimate myself means that it is possible. 

My advice to this nikyu is to be patient.  Just train.  If there is one constant at any dojo, in any martial art, it is the respect you get by being a good student.  Train often.  Train hard.  Help around the dojo if you have time.  People will see it. Sensei will see it.  All the other stuff - rank, social status, etc - will come in time.  In the end, it is what you learn from the art that’s important.  The color of your belt is just that - a color. 

It’d be a shame if this nikyu quits.  It’ll all work out if she just hang in there.

 

Attachment

I spent this past weekend at the North Seattle Community College, training with folks from all over the world at the Endo seminar. Among the people there was Jean Rene-Leduc Sensei from Nelson, British Colombia. He’s a 5th dan and a student of Takeda Shihan. I try to take ukemi from him whenever I can since he’s the closest to touching Takeda Shihan without going to Japan. Usually, I have a blast getting thrown by him. But for some reason, not this time. I kept walking right into his “space”, crossing lines he’s drawn. Good ukes should be able to see these lines and move accordingly. I didn’t. Not only that, he said I was sluggish, out of shape.

I was very demoralized afterwards. Why? Because I used to be able to take the Takeda style ukemi. This particular ukemi is very high energy and requires sharp sensitivity to “lines” drawn by nage. It is not a very martial ukemi, at least not superficially. But it is ukemi specifically suited to the waza practiced by Takeda Shihan and his students. I used to be good at it. Now I’m not. Which by itself is not a big thing. But it seems I’ve psychologically linked my ukemi ability directly to my ability to take this specific style of ukemi. All of sudden, I began to doubt my ability to take ukemi from anyone. Yikes! The last thing you want is to lose your confidence when taking ukemi. It’s a sure way to get hurt.

It is natural to be attached to some image of yourself, particularly if that image is a positive one. In most instances, I suspect it’s a good thing. But in my case, all it took was one example of how that image is flawed and - poof! - what was once positive became an instant negative. And if you have any other images tied to this one image - watch out! Better call your therapist.

I’ve been noticing a similar attachment lately at work. I’m a software engineer - a programmer who write computer code for a living. I just had my performance review. It was glowing - I’m dependable, communicate well, and write bug-free code. My managers throw praises like there’s no tommorrow. I am, by nature, a very humble person. But I have to say that it’s very hard not to give in to this extremely positive image that my bosses seem to have of me. Pretty soon, I’m going to think I’m indispensable, that I deserve a six figure salary, that I should take a six month sabbatical, confident that my job will still be around because … you know, I’m a rock star.

I know I’m not. I know that because of the number of bugs our Quality Assurance department send my way. I’m not perfect. Just like I’m not perfect with my ukemi. I will always need to work on it. Fortunately, I trained with other skilled aikidokas this past weekend. My ukemi was just fine with them. I know this because they told me how much fun it was training with me afterwards. So I guess I don’t suck entirely.

I learned a lot at the Endo seminar. It was a treat to be taught by Endo Sensei. But the most important lesson for me is the danger of being attached to any one image or thing. In aikido, we are taught to not grab our ukes; to not focus so much attention on our hands and feet; to keep your head up and to look out at the horizon - all are tips on how not to be attached as you do your technique. So too should we similarly not be attached when off the mat.

I am reminded of a phrase from the book Way of the Peaceful Warrior by Dan Millman.  It’s not an exact quote but it goes something along the line, “See things for what they are, not what you want them to be.”  Only then can you deal with life objectively, opening up options that you otherwise would not have if you commit to one way or another.  When you think about it, isn’t that one of the core teachings of aikido? 

 

Matti Joensuu Sensei

On Tuesday, several aikidokas from abroad visited our dojo.  Among them is Matti Joensuu Sensei, 6th dan and chief instructor of Kimusubi Dojo in Austria. 

I trained with him a little that day doing shomen-uchi suwari-waza at the start of class.  At the time, I had no idea he was a sensei and a 6th dan.  I did notice that he run lines similar to those of Takeda Sensei.  It’s very apparent in suwari-waza as I found myself often stretched from tip of my fingers to my toes while on one knee - fun stuff.  I later found out he is a student of Endo Sensei (who is teaching in Seattle this weekend).  Endo Sensei comes from the same lineage as Yamaguchi Sensei who is Takeda Sensei’s teacher.  That would explain the similarity.

Yet, as you would expect, he has his own style.  I found that out the next day when I attended class at Aikido at Willapa Bay.  Joensuu Sensei was the guest instructor.   We worked a bit on ukemi - front and back rolling to standing position, facing nage.  But the fun part was when he had us throwing two ukes at a time.  Of course, we didn’t start out doing that.  We first worked on standard katate-dori kokyu-nage.  The emphasis was on relaxing, then moving into uke’s center to connect - not so much that you push uke but enough to touch his center.  Then you move with your center, the elbows lifting not because you’re consciously lifting them but because it’s a natural result of you moving forward.

Maintaining the connection throughout the technique was something he emphasized over and over again.  This was especially important when I attempted to do ikkyo with two ukes hanging onto my one arm.  There’s the dropping of the elbow of course.  Relaxing is very important.  There has to be weight in your arm, settling slightly.  Then the connection is made by moving into uke’s center - except that with two ukes, the center is somewhere in between the two of them.  Once you’ve broken their balance, you move around to do ikkyo.  If you lose the connection when you move, it won’t work.  You have to keep them off balance the entire time.  Interesting stuff.

Then we moved on to throwing two ukes, one on each arm.  Joensuu Sensei said to imagine our arms like pendulum - like what we do with our arms during warm up as we swing them side to side.  The only difference is that you have an uke on each arm.  The arms are relaxed with weight underneath.  Then the hips move, swinging one arm forward while the other swing in the opposite direction.  Not entirely sure if that’s how he did it.  It’s what I saw.  It worked for me - the few times it did work anyways

It was a fun class over all.  The one thing that struck me was his humbleness.  When we all clapped at the end of class, he quickly waved us to stop.  You can tell he was embarassed.  Even more telling was how he kept telling us during class that it’s ok if we want to stop training and just watch, especially if we feel frustrated.  It’s as if he’s telling us that what he’s teaching is not for everyone and that it’s ok if we don’t do it - it won’t upset him.  That was new to me.   He’s not attached at all.  He seems to me to be someone who never intended to be a teacher but became one because of his incredible skill.  Teachers like him are the best I think.  No ego.  Just a desire to share what they know. 

It’s been a real treat to meet Joensuu Sensei and his friends from abroad.  I have to say that prior to Tuesday, I was feeling particularly uninspired in my aikido practice.   Sometimes you need a kick in the pants to get things started up again.  These visitors were especially inspiring.  It’s as if my body woke up.  For the first time in awhile, I realize how much fun ukemi can be, especially when thrown by people as skilled as they are.  They will all be at Endo’s seminar this weekend.  I can’t wait to train with them again. 

 

Fallen Heroes

For all the words in my last blog entry, the one thing I did not touch upon is whether what happened with Clint George Sensei invalidates his teachings.  This blog post helps answer that question.  I particularly like this part:

When this fellow taught or teaches Aikido, he may have been / may be perfect in that moment, regardless of any other circumstance. That he may have been imperfect at another time does not discredit what was transmitted when he was in a better state. Finally, almost every lesson we learn comes to us from people whom we may judge to be flawed, but that does not negate the value of the lesson to us. After all, though a teacher may be skillful in helping us to understand, in the end it is not that we are taught; rather, it is that we learn.

Very well written.

 

Hypocrite

Hypocrite. It is such an ugly word. It’s a label we place on others who act contrary to what they say or purportedly believe. We typically accompany the use of the word with a disappointing shake of the head. If the hypocrite is someone we know personally, it is often spoken with disbelief, shock, followed immediately by anger and a sense of betrayal, particularly if the belief is one that we also hold.

There are many examples of hypocrites in today’s world. Most notable is the ex-New York Governor Eliot Spitzer. He reportedly participated in the very same kind of criminal organization that he vehemently fought against when he was the Attorney General. What a hypocrite! How about those Catholic priests who molested countless altar boys? They were supposed to be men of God. But really, they were just dirty old men. What hypocrites!

And then there’s Clint George Sensei. I don’t want to use the word to describe him. I still respect his aikido skill tremendously. But by definition, he is a hypocrite. Here he was telling us to be aware at all times. Yet, he was totally unaware of the line he was crossing with the young girl. Or maybe he was aware of the line but not self-aware enough to stop himself. Regardless, he fits the bill. So sadly, the word applies to him as well.

But this particular hypocrite, this man who is so skilled in the art of aikido, made me pause in my track. With the other hypocrites, I could care less. I laugh at their weaknesses. I scoff at their indiscretion. I even take joy in the fact that they were caught. But with Clint George Sensei, it was different. There was no laughing, no scoffing, and certainly no joy. Instead, there is great sadness and an incredible sense of loss. It’s as if someone very dear and close to you has died. No, he’s not family but in the world of aikido - at least in my world and especially in the Shingu lineage - he was a giant. His fall from grace left a gaping hole that will not be quickly filled.

For the past week, I’ve struggled mightily to understand how someone who has trained for nearly three decades in an art focused on connection and awareness could end up being so clueless. He is a prime example of the disconnection that can happen between you and yourself. No, I didn’t misspeak - I said between you and yourself. Just as we are taught that there should be a connection between nage and uke, so too should there be a connection between who you are on the inside and who you are on the outside. Hypocrisy arise when the connection is not there or broken, when the two sides act independently and contrary to each other.

It’s a neat paradigm. A very clean explanation from an aikido perspective on why there are hypocrites. But what if I told you, based on this paradigm, that we are all hypocrites? I bet many of you are throwing the proverbial tomatoes at me right now. I expect that. I threw one at myself when I came to this conclusion. I’m not a hypocrite! I’m a very self-aware person! I practice aikido … uh, wait …

Yesterday, I had an argument with my coworker. Very typical of him, he attacked my work and was a butthead in every way. The lizard came to my defense. You know the lizard. He’s the devil on your shoulder. He’s Mr Flight or Fight. I found myself raising my voice steadily, batting down each of my coworker’s objection with one of my own. It was like a escalating nuclear war. Other coworkers had to close the doors to their offices or put their headphones on. It was that loud. Eventually, my coworker backed down with nothing resolved. Did I feel triumphant? Hell no! I was drained and … yes, I’ll say it … ashamed.

I practice aikido! I should have realize what an explosive situation it was. I should have blended, looking at the issues from my coworker’s point of view. But I didn’t, did I? By definition, I was a hypocrite - I say one thing (blend, resolve conflict peacefully) but do another (fight, bash coworker on his head until he submits). Shame on me. Right?

Yes and no. Yes, I should have known better. No, I shouldn’t feel shame. Why? Because that connection between you and yourself is tenuous. The lizard is insidious. He takes every opportunity to break the connection. It’s his job. I’ve worked at strengthening that connection but so far, it’s like repairing a bridge with glue. I try and try. But the lizard wins more often than not.

Building and strengthening that connection between you and yourself is an extremely difficult task, one that requires constant attention. And that’s assuming you realize that such a connection should exist in the first place. Most people don’t. Some are just not self-aware in any way to even make the realization. These are the aikidokas who practice the art on the mat but have no thought of applying the principles off the mat. They are just not capable of doing so. Was Clint George Sensei one of those aikidokas? I don’t know. I have no idea what compelled him to do what he did. But there was definitely a disconnect within himself. Clearly, his lizard was in control.

We are all hypocrites. Be honest with yourself and look deep down. We have all experienced moments when we do or say things that is contrary to who we are or would like to be. You know those moments. They are often followed by a sense of shame - like the situation with my coworker. It could be as innocent as eating that chocolate cake when you’ve told everyone you’re dieting. Or it could be as egregious and reprehensible as molesting a child. Perhaps shame is what Clint George Sensei is feeling right now. If so, then I ask all of you to show some compassion for him and for all hypocrites. I know that’s difficult, particularly if you’re angry and disgusted with what he did. But knowing that we are all capable of being hypocrites, realizing that we may become hypocrites at various points in our lives, shouldn’t we show some understanding for their plights, if not for them then for our future hypocritical selves?

I have been blessed with many great teachers in my life - aikido and elsewhere. I’ve alway placed these teachers on a pedestals. Like kings and queens. I defer to them. I never question them. But in doing so, I’ve placed them above the human realm. They are incapable of fault. They certainly can not be hypocrites. The rational part of me knew that to be a pitfall of the greatest magnitude yet I ignored it. The mighty can not fall. They must not else all that I’ve been taught will become invalid.

Then came the news about Clint George Sensei. Suddenly, one of the mighties have fallen. Suddenly, all that I know about aikido came into question. For a brief period of time, I wonder why I’m even practicing aikido. If someone who has trained for so many years can be so disconnected, what hope is there for me?

We are all hypocrites. As hard as it is for me to accept, that conclusion is what will motivate me to keep on training. Not just because I don’t want to be a hypocrite (I don’t). The lizard will see to it I will be one (again) sooner or later. I will keep training because I want to strengthen that connection between me and myself. I want to eventually replace the glue I’ve been using all these years with epoxy, with rivets, with arc welding. Building the connection is even more imperative in light of what happened with Clint George Sensei. The lizard is more powerful than I had previously thought if it can take down one of the mighties. I’m determine to shore up my defenses so it does not happen to me. That means continuing to work on that connection and to keep training.

Pay attention and beware of the lizard!

 

Hiroshi Ikeda Sensei

West Seattle Aikikai hosted Hiroshi Ikeda Sensei this weekend. I was only able to attend one of his classes. It was well worth it even though I went away scratching my head a bit. His practice is way above anything I’m capable of. It’s like I’m in junior high and he’s a professor at a prestigious university. It’s definitely the kind of stuff you store up and hope that one day, you’ll get an epiphany and go “Eureka!” At least that’s the hope …

Several themes permeated the class I attended. The first was unity. The body must move as one unit. Those who have practiced awhile know the concept. It is one of the most difficult thing to do. I can tell my body to move as one as much as I like but inevitably, my arm, leg, wrist, elbow - whatever - will move first, separate from every other body part. This disjointedness causes disconnection with uke which has a tendency to make me want to use my muscles to compensate. It’s an all too familiar feeling. This lack of unity leads to Ikeda Sensei’s second theme - asobi.

I don’t speak Japanese so I can’t give you a literal translation of asobi. A quick google search came up with play as one definition. At first, I was puzzled by this but then I realize it fits into what Ikeda Sensei was saying (assuming of course that’s the definition he’s using - someone correct me if I’m wrong). He used the word to describe the spacing between you and uke. More specifically, the lack of space. For example, the space between your hand and uke’s hand when doing a katate technique. There should be none. You should take out the slack or play. That way, there is an unbroken connection between the two of you. This allows you to move uke as though both of you are one person.

He also talked about affecting uke by changing yourself internally. He said it’s ok to bend the knees in the beginning. But as you get more advanced, the up and down shift should be more subtle. At some point, it should be invisible. He demonstrated this over and over again with his trademark “do you see?” Of course, I didn’t. He said the subtlety to the movement makes people think aikdo is magic. To an untrained set of eyes, Ikeda Sensei hardly seem to move. Yet uke is so affected that he no longer has his balance. No muscle needed.

Later, I spoke with my tai chi and push hands teacher Ken Wright. He had gone to watch Ikeda Sensei this weekend as well. Unlike most of us, he said he knows exactly what Ikeda Sensei was doing. In tai chi, how you shift your weight from one leg to the other is very important. But it’s not the legs that’s shifting. Rather, it’s your dan tien or the hara that moves. It rotates in a circle. At the highest level, this movement is invisible. Not only that, the circling movement is smooth, not jerking as one would expect if you simply move your legs and hips.

What’s frustrating for me is that I understand all this intellectually. But damn if I can get my body to do it, much less do it consistently. Guess that’s what practice is for.

Finally, Ikeda Sensei spoke about 1+1=2. When we start aikido, we learn 1+1=2. But as you progress, that equation should change. For example, in the beginning, you may learn to do kotegaeshi in three distinct steps. At some point, that should become one movement. Even later, there should be even more subtlety to that one movement. He stressed how important it is that you don’t train thirty years and still be doing 1+1=2. If that’s what happening, you haven’t been really training. All you’ve done, at best, is imitation.

I like to attend Ikeda Sensei’s seminars. As I joked to one of my sempais, it makes you realize how little you really know about aikido and how much farther you have to go. You need teachers like that - teachers who place these carrots way ahead of you. You see them, you want them, but they are so far away. The only way to get there is to take another step, one at a time.