Aikido

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. 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!

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.

I received several responses to the post I wrote about my friend surviving an armed robbery during her vacation. Couple of them were … well, let’s just say I’m glad there was a delete button. Only two really were thoughtful enough to pass my filter. You can see them here.

The post from Ordinary Joe is particularly thought provoking. It made me realize that what I’m practicing is just one manifestation of the path to the destination, not the only. It reminds me that I must be careful to not close myself to other paths. I don’t think I am consciously, but deep down perhaps I have, given my preference with aikido. A very good post. Please read it and my response.