Aikido

This demo rock! Enough said.

Here they are. I’m not embedding them. Just follow the links. They’re listed in order.

Suwari Waza

Hamni Hamdachi

Tachi Waza

Variations

Koshinages

Sword Takeaway

Bo Ikkyo

Jiyu Waza

Randori

Kokyu Ho/Bowing Out

I got my hands on the tape. My friend converted it to DVD. Last night, I downloaded DvDx - a freeware DVD converter - and attempted to convert the 24 minutes that was my demonstration into MPEG. Actually, I tried AVI first but the file size was humongous. MPEG will have to do. Still working on it. I uploaded one segment - my randori - onto YouTube. I’m not a video wizard and the tape quality isn’t very good. And oh yeah, there’s no sound. But it’s viewable. I’ll upload the rest tonight hopefully.

So I walked onto the mat with my black belt and in my new hakama, all ready to train with the beginners in basics class. Things started fine. We practiced tenkan, then irimi, then we moved into ushiro techniques, specifically, ushiro katadori sankyo. I went slow with the newbies as usual, but sankyo is a particularly difficult technique to take ukemi for. I was working with a white belt who was a bit stiff. I guess I applied more pressure than he could handle. He just stood up and walked off the mat.

I felt bad of course. How could I not? I particularly like this white belt - he always had a kind word for me. And as is typical of me, I beat myself up for it. Not only was I nage but I’m also a black belt. I should have been more sensitive to what uke was experiencing.

I spoke with him briefly afterwards, ice pack in my hand. He said he was fine, that someone else had already cranked his arm and that he had enough for the day. That should have made feel better but it didn’t. His wife who’s also a white belt spoke to me afterwards. She said he’s been under pressure and it didn’t take much to push him past his limits. He’s actually quite committed to the practice. She told me he’ll be ok.

It shouldn’t have happened. Too much juice leftover from the demonstration on Thursday night? Possibly. I guess I’m still all charged up from having black belts come after me with deadly zeal. As great as that energy was in keeping me alive that night, it is a liability in basics class. It’s like training with a live blade when a soft shinai will do.

Those who have followed this blog may have remembered the posting about training after sparring at the kajukenbo school. I was so jazzed up that during my randori, I spent more time wrestling than blending. It’s happened again. I’d have prefer to learn this about myself without hurting someone but now that I know, hopefully I can work on channeling or controlling it.

All of this is a stark reminder that as a black belt, I have an even greater responsibility to look after my kohais. That means being more sensitive to ukes and and just as important, being sensitive to your own state of mind. Ironically, the best way to do that is to work with beginners. As the incident today illustrates, there’s no better way to tell how well you’re listening to uke than to train with someone who does not know how to take ukemi. They will move in ways you do not expect and if you insist on doing your technique a certain way … well, they liable to stand up and walk off the mat … or worse

Now that I spent the last six paragraphs beating myself up, let’s look at uke’s responsibility in incidents like this one. Although nage is responsible for uke’s safety, uke should not rely on that. You are ultimately responsible for your own well-being. That means if you feel nage is exerting too much pressure or is throwing you too hard or too fast, you must let him or her know. Again, what happened today illustrates this very clearly - sometimes, it is difficult for nage to know what your limits are. Only you know that. I spoke with the sensei who taught today. He told me that it can be hard to tell, particularly with guys. Men have a tendency to “suck it up” until it is too late. I’m guilty of it myself. Do not hesitate to tap out. Better to do it early than late.

No one at our dojo steps on the mat with the intent to hurt someone. Believe me, any such individual would feel Sensei’s wrath and be kicked out real quick. But it does happen. This is, after all, a martial art. The best way to ensure that we’ll be able to train for a very long time is if as nages, we learn to be more sensitive, and as ukes, learn to be more communicative.

It’s official. I just changed the title to this blog to reflect my new rank. Yippee!

Everyone said my demonstration went well. Of course, if you ask me, I’ll tell you all the little stuff I messed up on. But even I have to admit it was a blast. How exciting it was to throw committed ukes who were hell bent on knocking my ass down. No matter how prepared I was, no matter how many times I told myself I owned the mat, there was always this uncertainty factor that made every throw simultaneously a challenge and a thrill.

One uke in particular really pushed my afterburner button. Up until he came on the mat, I was cruising along. Suwari-waza. No problem. Hamni-hamdachi. No problem. Shomenuchi ikkyo through yonkyo. eh, done it hundreds of times. Not that the ukes before him were push-overs by any means. But none of them has his … for the lack of a better word … tenaciousness. He’s one of those ukes that everyone finds difficult because no matter what you do, he just won’t go down. Or at least it seems that way. You must truly get his center. Even then, if you leave even a slight opening, he will reverse your technique. Some people are reluctant to train with him. I was one of those people until recently. In any case, when he was called up, I thought, “oh crap!” It was especially poignant since I had just trained with him earlier in class before the test. We were doing irimi-nage and for the life of me, I could not throw him. So here he was, an uke in my demonstration. I’m not ashamed to say that the lizard part of my brain was screaming “Run!”

But instead, I managed to shut the lizard up and turned up the juice. Not muscle juice. That would have pissed him off real quick. Nope. I turned up the don’t-mess-with-me juice. It didn’t matter what he did. He was gonna go down. Maybe my techniques weren’t as clean as they should have been but they did the job. I was told later that although he was fast (faster than me if that’s even possible), I never lost connection with him. That was always a problem with me before. I had a tendency to go so fast and be so ahead of uke that the tenuous thread between uke and myself would break. But not last night. Perhaps it was driven by the fear that if I didn’t stay connected, he will reverse me or worse. That was not going to happen on my test. Hell no.

I thanked him afterward for his ukemi. He’s definitely not an easy uke.  But I find him to be particuarly interesting. He has beautiful movements - probably from his tai-chi background - and he is throwable. It’s like life - just because it’s hard doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. I learned so much from training with him.

Having him as uke also had the unintended effect of charging me up for the rest of the demonstration. I needed it because right after him was sword takeaway. I think I did ok. The bokken didn’t seem nearly as intimidating after throwing him.

Next came jiyu-waza. One of my ukes was this six foot plus giant. I am not kidding you. He towers over everyone. I don’t remember much except of this one stark image of my right arm claiming his center line, my fist inches from his nose. heh, that image will be indelibly imprinted in my mind and one that I will recall everytime I train with him henceforth. Precious.

Finally, randori. By now, I was winded. I had no idea how I was gonna do a full speed randori. Quite literally, I was running on fumes. As I sat in seiza in front of the three ukes who were about to charge at me like rhinos, I closed my eyes and did my best to calm my chi using the qigong breathing exercises I had learned recently. When I was ready, I opened my eyes, calmly bowed, and - off we went! I don’t know exactly what I did but my opening move managed to get everyone thrown in a line behind me. For a brief moment, I was wondering why everyone was over there. Then they all got up and came at me again. Weee! As tired as I was, it was the most fun I had that night. I even remembered smiling at one of the ukes as I watched her charge right past me. Ah, good times

Kokyu Ho. It’s over. Just like that. No seven mile run. No board and brick breaking. No injuries of any sort. Not at all like my Taekwondo black belt test. Yet, it was no less exciting and fulfilling. Five and half years. Someone told me I probably could have taken the test a year earlier. Maybe. But I don’t think I was ready back then. Aikido is like a fine wine. The longer you let it sit, the better it’ll be. You don’t want to open it too soon. But when you do, it’ll be worth the wait. That’s what my demonstration was like. Well worth the wait.

Now on to the next phase of my training …. how to wear my hakama!

It’s starting to hit me.  In two days, I’ll be a shodan.  I remember when I used to tell people it’ll be another two years or so before I’ll test for black belt.  Two years flew by real quick.  Now it’s only two days ’till showtime.  Weeee!

Would you believe I used to think I was uncoordinated and clumsy?   Yup, I was the kid that no one wanted to pick for their softball or dodgeball team.   I was the nerd.  Good with books.  Not so good with a football, softball, or any ball.  Good to throw balls at though.  It didn’t help either that I have a heart murmur and was told by physicians that I shouldn’t exert myself.  Doctor said so.  Who am I to argue?

My parents, of course, did nothing to encourage me.  I couldn’t really blame them since they believed the doctors too.  Who are they to argue with people with M.D. after their names?

For a good part of my adult life, I lived with the belief that I was incapable of being good at anything physical.  Yet, here I am, many many years later, about to receive a second black belt.  And since I don’t plan on quitting aikido any time soon, a second and third dan is probably in my future.

What a road I’ve traveled.  It’s been almost fifteen years since I started this experiment in martial arts.  I call it an experiment because when I first started, I really didn’t know if my body would hold out and more importantly, whether I would be tough enough.  In fact, my first attempt - a kempo school in Hawaii - was a less than stellar experience.  I remember - I’m about to reveal a very embarassing detail so please be gentle - being choked out by a girl.   Of course, it was in front of everyone and well, back then, I wasn’t as mature emotionally so you can imagine my angst.  You’d think I quit martial arts and never go back.

But something about it continued to call to me.  I tried again after I moved to California.  It was a kung fu school (hung gar style I believe) in Sunnyvale, CA.  I lasted a day.  About the only thing I really remember was standing in a horse stance, punching, and realizing the room was turning white, my ears were ringing, and my lungs heaving.  Clear sign of oxygen deprivation.  To my credit, I didn’t passed out.  But I was damn close.  Didn’t return to the school after that.  Again, I should have quit.  If that’s not a sign that my body couldn’t take it, I don’t know what is.

It’d be a couple years before I tried again.  I might have been bored.  I might have just watched Enter the Dragon and dreamt of being Bruce Lee.  I don’t know.  But tried again I did.  This time, it was an American Kenpo club in San Mateo, CA.  This was American Kenpo as made famous by Ed Parker Jr. and Jeff Speakman.  It’s known for its multiple strikes in rapid succession.  Not the prettiest but damn if it wasn’t effective.  Every other strike was a strike to the groin.  Fun stuff.  Anyways, unlike my previous two attempts, I actually did well.  We only met twice a week but I stayed with it long enough to test once for my yellow belt.  I think this is the first time I thought I could actually be somewhat skilled in a martial art.  It helped that the people in the club were a good, supportive bunch.  That really made a difference. 

But sadly my job transferred me to Boston.  On my first day back east, I went in search for an American Kenpo school.  None to be found.  I was walking down Mass Ave when I happened upon Jae Hun Kim Taekwondo Institute.  Mind you, I was a martial arts snob even back then.  I heard of Tae Kwon Do.  I heard it was flashy.  But I was desparate.  I walked in and while talking with the guy behind the counter (who was trying to sell me a three year contract), I heard WHUMP … WHUMP … WHUMP …  What the heck was that?  I turned around and saw an amazing sight - a black belt, shorter than I was, kicking a punching bag with so much force that I thought for sure the bag would fly off its chain. The kick was flashy but it was also extremely powerful.  I was sold.  Yeah, I was a sucker and brought the three year contract but hey, I didn’t think I’d be leaving Boston for awhile so it was all good.

Alas, I was there only for a year.  Work transferred me back to California.  By then, I was a blue belt (4th gup) in TKD.  Like my move to Boston, the day I landed back in San Francisco, I went in search for a TKD school.  This was before Google and Yahoo so I did my searching courtesy of the Yellow Pages.  There were a few big schools but I decided on a tiny one, mostly based on my fairly lengthy conversation with the instructor, Master Norman Lin.  He was a 5th dan, having trained with Simon Rhee (famous fight choreographer for movies like Lethal Weapons 4) and Philip Rhee (famous for Best of the Best with Eric Roberts).   His was a small school.  Back then, the studio was in the basement of the Jewish Community Center.  About year later, we moved to a much larger studio smack dab in the middle of the City.  For five years, I trained religiously.  Poured a lot of sweat and spilled a few drops of blood.  By now, I have no doubt anymore of my physical abilities.  Moreover, I was developing a mental toughness that could only be gotten from sparring with guys much taller and stronger than I was.  I gave as good as I got.  And in 2001, after a grueling exam, I received my black belt in Tae Kwon Do. 

I stayed at the school for another year or so.  By then though, Master Lin was hardly ever there.  He had just started a family and was really focused on his work.  Inevitably, I started looking elsewhere.  Plus, as I had mentioned in my previous posts, I was looking for a more spiritual practice.  Enter aikido.  That was five and half years ago.

You know how sometimes, in hindsight, you see how everything in your past has lead you up to this moment in life.  That’s how I feel about my martial arts experiment.  Each experience has been built on top of the last one.  Honestly, even if I was introduced to aikido early on, I probably wouldn’t have liked it.  I wasn’t ready.  There was an incredible need to prove to myself that I was physically and mentally strong.  Aikido would not have been the best art for that.  My experience with Tae Kwon Do made me appreciate aikido in ways that I don’t think I could have had aikido been the only art I’ve ever practiced. 

This black belt I’m about to receive is another marker in my evolution as a martial artist.  It is by no means an end, but as it is often stated, a new beginning.  Who knows where I’ll end up ten, twenty, thirty years from now.  The only thing I know for certain is that as long as I can breathe, I will continue to train.  It is truly a way of life. 

I’m ashamed to say I don’t have any of the O’Sensei videos.  But someone uploaded one of them onto YouTube. 

The dates in the beginning aren’t right.  Must be referring to Kisshomaru Ueshiba.  Even then, the dates are still wrong since Kisshomaru Ueshiba was born in 1921, died 1999. 

Here you go:

Every aikidoka have heard it at one time or another - aikido is like dancing.   I don’t dance but strictly from a layman’s point of view, I can see why such a comparison is often made.  To an uninformed eye, aikido practiced at a high level is very much like dancing except, of course, the end result is uke falling or rolling.  There is a flow that seems almost choreographed.  Often times, you see uke move before nage even executes the technique.  This is a martial art?  It’s a dance!

I bring this up after attending class Tuesday night.  We had a substitute teacher that night - Sensei was out of town.  This shodan (who is well on her way to nidan) demonstrated some of most beautiful waza I’ve ever seen.  I was told her mother was a dancer and although I don’t know if she’s ever danced, I can see the genes did not miss her.  Her techniques were not only precise but there is a gracefulness that colored her every movement.  There were moments when I thought I was watching a dance.  But of course, it’s not.  It’s very clear that she had uke’s center and that bad things would have happened if uke didn’t move. 

And that is really the difference I think.  The martial intent.   It is what makes a martial art martial and not a dance or a set of routines to be memorized.

I used to be a martial arts snob.  By that I mean I used to think some martial arts are way too stylish.  For example, Caporeira, exhibition wu-shu, WTF Taekwondo, and yes, Aikido.  Or that some are souless, focused way too much on being deadly without a single shread of spirituality.  For example, Krav Maga, Brazilian Jujitsu, and Thai Kickboxing.

Yet, here I am, immersed in an art that I would have dismissed not too long ago.  I would have laughed if you told me that I would one day get a black belt in aikido.  Do I still think I’m a martial artist even though I don’t throw punches or kicks anymore?  

Yes. Absolutely.  That’s because aikido has taught me something very important: any art can be martial.  It starts from within the practitioner.  Of course there are practical differences in every art.  But technical details doesn’t necessarily make one art better than another.  It is the martial artist’s mind and spirit that is the single most important factor in any fight.  If he believes he will prevail, he will more likely to do so than someone who doesn’t. 

I also think every art can be beautiful and graceful.  Sure, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  Still, even the most cynical can find something graceful in a choke hold or an elbow strike to the temple. 

The key is to balance the two sides - stylishness and martialness.  Yin and Yang.  Aikido without martialness is yin without the yang.  That’s when it becomes a dance.  Aikido with too much martialness is yang without the yin.  What you get is … well, you’ve all seen Steven Seagal, right? 

I had a conversation with my friend who was training with this brown belt in class.  This brown belt probably has a dance background although I can’t be sure.  She moves like a dancer - very supple and flowing.  Yet, she has absolutely no martial intent behind her techniques.  Perhaps that’s not why she trains.  Maybe she just loves the movements.  I don’t know.  Nothing wrong with that as long as that comes with the realization that that’s not aikido as O’Sensei intended.

I saw Ikeda Sensei at a seminar couple weeks ago.  I also saw him about five months ago.  Both times, he began the class by emphasizing the importance of budo (martial way).    He would show a technique and say “We do this now to learn.  But later, we don’t because of the fist that follows right after.”  Sometimes I think we forget that.  It’s understandable considering how aikido lends itself to stylishness.  Yet, as martial artists, it is our duty to balance that out with martialness.  You can be pretty but you must also be deadly.  Yin and yang.

Life intervened.  That’s all I can say.  Aikido was not on the top of my list for the past three weeks.  I still got on the mat and trained but it was for my sanity what with all the stuff that was going on. 

Anyways … my shodan demonstration is next week Thursday. 

I had my mock test couple weeks ago.  At our dojo, a mock test is just that - a walkthrough of what I’ll be doing on that momentous day.  I think I did ok.  I was a bit tense in the beginning.  There was a lot of attempts to control uke.  In hindsight, I think it may have had to do with some of the events that was going on off the mat.  I felt I had no control over them. So guess what I did when I was on the mat?  I tried to reassert control in the way that all aikidoka have done at one time or another - use my muscles.  Yeah, I’m guilty.  I did relaxed midway through though.  My jiyu-waza and randori were, from I was told, very smooth.

Sensei told me, aside from the initial tenseness, that I needed to work on staying connected post technique.  This was actually a surprise for me since I’m usually pretty good about that.  But again, in hindsight, she was right.  I was “on” when I was doing the technique and then I kind of checked out afterwards.  It could be that I was trying not to be too invested in the mock test outcome, much like how I was trying to not get too invested in some of things that were going on off the mat.  It’s like saying “fine, I’ll do what I need to do but I don’t really care what happens afterwards.”  Which I guess is zen-like but there’s a big difference between living in the moment and not caring. 

Living in the moment still require that we stay connected to all that is around us.  Otherwise, how can you really live.  By not caring, I was essentially dead.  Well, maybe that’s how I felt that night.  There was some heavy drama going on in my life and I just didn’t care.  My waza reflected that.

So my challenge for the demonstration next week is to somehow reconnect.  That means caring about what happens. Not so much that I become controlling.  But not so little that I’m just a zombie going through the motions. 

It’s interesting really. Most people testing for their black belts are concerned with their techniques.  Me?  Techniques are the least of my worries.  I think I might have said it once before - as long as you’re connected, it doesn’t matter how badly you execute your technique, you’ll always be in a position to recover and turn that technique into something else.  If you’re disconnected, not only will it be difficult to do your technique but if you mess it up, you’re dead.  

Well, I can’t be dead and a zombie next week.  Somehow I need to turn that switch on and keep it on.  Which means working through some of the emotional crap lodged inside my head.  Fun stuff.