Aikido

I finally attended a seminar taught by Tres Hofmeister, 6th dan and a senior student of Ikeda Shihan in Boulder, Colorado.  It was hosted at West Seattle Aikikai.  I say finally because I’ve been wanting to attend his seminar for the longest time.  He was one of those teachers that everyone said you must see.  He was definitely worth waking up early Sunday morning.  I almost didn’t go - I didn’t sleep very well the night before.  But, I went bleary eye and all.

He started the class with a review of what he taught the day before.  I wish I was able to attend his Saturday class.  But my dojo had kyu tests and I was an uke.  Still, the small glimpse I had through his review was interesting.  Elbows in was the theme it seemed.  We did an exercise in which uke attempted to push nage’s arms up while nage try to prevent that from happening by relaxing his arms and bringing in the elbows towards the ribcage.  From there, we moved on to actually throwing uke in kokyu nage.  The review was quick, lasted maybe twenty minutes at most - too short to get anything significant from it.  But I’m glad he went over the materials because I found out on arrival that the class was going to focus on jo kata.

Those who’ve been following this blog know I’m not a big weapon fan.  Much of my anticipation with attending Tres Sensei’s seminar was to steal his open hand stuff.  So I was a bit bummed when I heard Sunday class was going to be a jo class.

Still, I was already there and I really wanted to see what Tres had to offer, regardless of what it was.  So we did the review and then brought out our jo.  Actually, I borrowed a jo as I didn’t bring one myself.  The last time I played with a jo was back at Aikido West over four years ago.  So I was a bit rusty.  Ok, that was a bit kind.  I was really rusty.  About the only thing I could do reasonably well was tsuki - and only on the right side :)  We practice only four moves.  Not sure if they were part of a bigger kata.  I suspect they were.  It was a humbling experience for me.  I felt like a beginner.  However, I did end up having fun.  I was having a great time particularly with one of the yudanshas.  We were going at it pretty hard and fast - once I got into the groove.  And I smashed my fingers only once the whole time!  It was a good owie.

As with any two hour class, time flew and it as over before I knew it.  I had met Tres Sensei once before at a seminar for Endo Sensei two years back.  He knew my sempai at Aikido West and at the time, I introduced myself and told him I was going to attend one of his seminars.  For some reason or another, I missed his seminars in the two years hence.  So it was good to finally attend his class.  To my surprise, I think he recognized me.  He approached me and introduced himself.  He said “Hi, my name is Tres.”  I find that hilarious since it’s kind of hard to attend a seminar and not know the Sensei’s name.  But it showed how humble he is.  He didn’t act like a Sensei.  Just someone who trained and wanted to share what he knew.  Cool guy.  Definitely have to make it to his next seminar.

Oh, while googling “Tres Hofmeister”, I found this little piece on ukemi.  Must read.

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.

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.

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.