We arrive where we started and know the place for the first time...

TS Eliot wrote about the moment when “we arrive where we started and know the place for the first time”.

For me the recent 30th Anniversary celebrations and training of AFSA (the Aikido Federation of South Africa) in my hometown of Cape Town represented such a moment. The celebrations brought together 5 very senior instructors - Osawa Shihan (7th dan), Fujimoto Shihan (7th dan), Minegishi Sensei (6th dan), Martuffi Sensei (6th dan) and our own De Beer Sensei (5th dan)and nearly 150 practitioners from around the globe and the country.
That space at the foot of the imposing Table Mountain, Hoerikwaggo to call it by its more mystical name, that space where the idea of an aikido federation for South Africa was born presented an unique laboratory. A place to rediscover that feeling of first stepping onto the mat, of letting go of the familiar, the comfortable. A space to open the mind and try out new ways of doing things, of being reminded of old, sometimes forgotten, ways of doing things.
In short, it was a space to close off this cycle and start anew - and a new cycle.

For AFSA, the event marked 3 decades of training in South Africa. It also heralded a worthy celebration of our emergence from isolation. The past 30 years were marred by our physical distance from the rest of the world and for much of that time the isolation that came from being a political pariah on the world scene. The last decade - our decade of democracy - has seen a dramatic shift, a narrowing of the gap between us and the rest of the (aikido) world.

The next 30 years pose a big challenge for AFSA. This new cycle we are starting will place new demands on us - of growth, of living up to the theme of "training together under African skies". In a country of nearly 48 million only 2,500 know about or have tried out aikido. There rests a responsibility on all of us who love and practice this rather unique martial art to introduce it to more people and thereby spreading its message of dealing with violence differently, more constructively to a wider audience.

On a more personal note, the seminar also marked in some ways my own coming of age - after 21 years of training. This year I struggled to re-locate my centre. Because Aikido is much more than a series of techniques or exercises; because it is based on a philosophy that permeates every aspect of the art, it demands a degree of consistency throughout one's life - both on and off the mat. Thus, if the exhortation on the mat is to ensure that you do not hurt either yourself or your partner, that self-same principle has to apply off the mat too. This is even more true when one is cast in the role of instructor.

So even though all of us are people, and are therefore fallible and make mistakes, and thereby hurt people, failing to recognise the mistake, and taking steps to ensure that you do not repeat it, is critical. It is to that lack of consistency, that lack of authenticity that students react, even unconsciously. And leave. Similarly it is the consistency, the authenticity in one's practice that ultimately shines through. And so, a lesson for me from the 30th anniversary has been that no matter whether you are flamboyant or reserved, training in a way that is effective yet does not cause harm requires a stable posture, a foundation of fundamental principles if you like that informs everything you do.

From there springs the joy in training, that infectious spirit that brings aikidoists together and sets aikido apart from other 'ways'.
So here's to the next 21 years for me, the next 30 years for AFSA! Here's to making new mistakes - and learning from them- to growth and expansion... And most importantly....here's to seeing you back on the tatami soon...

Ghalib

Creating beauty out of what is not pretty

Much of my musings over the last while have been about creating beauty in the world, in rounding sharp edges, finding the beautiful shapes that we find in nature also on the mat.

I was reminded recently though that in getting to that beauty, there is a responsibility also to grapple with what is not so pretty... I include the whole blog entry by Regina Lindau for you to consider too...

Tonight our Aikido class had to be cancelled due to some logistical problem, so I have decided to instead write about some of my inspirations for tonight’s session. Generally Thursday classes are focussed a little more on the basics and I guess what I was thinking about becomes especially apparent when we practice basic techniques but of course is important at any level of practice.

Often – especially if we have practiced for a few years already - we have focussed a lot on principles like "maintaining our centre", “not being there when attack comes through" and "avoiding meeting force with force". These are all very critical principles in Aikido, but then there is also one that sometimes gets a little behind and that to my mind is just as critical and that has to do with the contact that happens between uke (the person that attacks) and tori (the one that executes the technique).

Aikido can look very pretty and can include big dramatic movements and especially at more advanced stages the contact becomes less physical and therefore less obvious to the observer. However, I think sometimes we get so wrapped up in the beauty of the movement and our need and sometimes ability to control that we start dismissing the importance of that contact.

So especially when we practice the very basic movements we get the chance to re-focus our attention on this. But what does that mean – this notion of contact? It really means that first of all – of course there needs to be a committed attack from uke, so that this contact can be established. From this the connection between the two partners can then be established. For us as tori it means that first of all we must acknowledge the attack. We must acknowledge the person we are working with and we must keep that awareness throughout the WHOLE movement. This sounds obvious but how often do we forget about uke halfway through the technique and get driven by our own ideas about what the technique must look like.

Now there is a point where one might argue that we cannot hand over the control to uke. And that is of course very true. However, there is a very distinct difference between giving away one’s centre and the skill of acknowledging and listening to uke and working with the attack.

This is a challenge for many of us and at the same time there is also the challenge of avoiding the clash – of the principle to not meet force by force. But avoiding the clash can never mean avoiding the contact. This would be fatal. Of course, as uke is playing along we might still be able to execute the technique. But in the face of a committed attack firstly uke will feel lost and secondly our self-involved approach will offer the gap for an attack that we might not have expected.

I even want to go further than just talking about the importance of that contact for the effectiveness and beauty of our Aikido. To me the importance of the contact and the connection that results from this reflects very clearly the value of respect and integrity that so often is associated with this martial art.

It seems easy to understand that we must always respect the person that we are working with. But how quickly do we forget that in the – not so pretty - reality of an attack. Of course an attack is not something we wish for. But if we are only able to keep the contact when things are pretty, then that is a huge lack of respect, because in dismissing the attack we disrespect uke. Reality is not always pretty and the real challenge comes in the moments where we are confronted with that. In those moments it is critical to maintain one’s centre, to not be a target for the attack and to not meet force by force, but it is equally important to maintain the contact and work with it creatively. So this is where I find integrity. Not in one set way of how things are done, not in a drawn out plan of answers but in the ability to be who we are and still keep the contact and respect those that cross our path even in the – sometimes not so pretty – face of reality.

This is a big challenge and I certainly haven’t mastered it but I was reminded today by some instance off the tatami and by my thoughts about tonight’s class. So again, I have become a little more aware of how crucial this is – whether it is on or off the mat. I think this is also what it means when we say that Aikido is possibly the most humble of all martial arts.

So this means life long practice for me and I know this practice will make a difference in my life and hopefully also - every now and then - touch those that cross my path.
http://carpediem-regina.blogspot.com/2007/06/not-always-pretty.html

August 9th was National Women's Day in South Africa.

A day on which we celebrate more than half of our population. A day on which we remember just how far we have come in recognising the innate equality of men and women in society - and how much more must be done to ensure that it becomes a reality for all women.

Dated to commemorate the Women's March on August 9, 1956, when 20 000 women staged a march on the Union Buildings in Pretoria to protest against the proposed amendments to the Urban Areas Act (commonly known as the pass laws) of 1950. They left bundles of petitions containing more than 100 000 of signatures at Prime Minister J.G. Strijdom's office door.

Outside they stood silently for 30 minutes, many with their children on their backs. Those who were working for white people as nannies were carrying their (white) charges with them. The women sang a protest song that was composed in honour of the occasion: Wathint’Abafazi Wathint’imbokodo! (Now you have touched the women, you have struck a rock.). In the last 50 years since, the phrase (or its latest incarnation: "you strike a woman, you strike a rock") has come to represent women's courage and strength in South Africa.

The march was lead by Lilian Ngoyi, Helen Joseph, Rahima Moosa and Sophia Williams-De Bruyn.

Women still constitute a vulnerable section of the population - they are still more often the victim of abuse rather than the perpetrators (although they are imminently capable of the latter). In spite of the strides made towards gender equality, there are many areas of activity where people are discriminated against just because they are women. And while it is no longer true that "it is a man's world", we still have a way to go to experience true equality. Where equality means celebrating, not just tolerating, the differences between men and women.

For me it is also a time to remember all the amazing women who have crossed my path over the years - my mother, sister, grandmothers, girlfriends, lovers and friends - all of whom have taught me a little bit more about who I am and what I hold dear. Every relationship filled with meaning and lessons, an ongoing journey of discovery....

It also made me think of a question that has bothered me for a long time now: Why do more women not practice Aikido in South Africa?

After all, as a martial art, aikido is emminently suited to women. It is often assumed that women, because of an average man's greater physical strength, have a harder time defending themselves. In fact, in Aikido, because they are on average shorter, have a lower centre of gravity and are more intuitive to the use of ki, they are often better at Aikido than their male counterparts. It is only because society tends to make women think that they are weak that they don't realise their potential.
Aikido doesn't rely on brute strength - on the contrary, while physical strength can be useful, it is more the application of technique and timing that underlies Aikido's effectiveness. So why then don't more women do Aikido in South Africa?

Over the years the students (and ex-students) at my club have offered many reasons: some left so as not to have to deal with the overactive sweat glands of their training partners, others because they were tired of the bruises caused by equally inexperienced training partners clamping on, eager to show how much stronger they were and forgetting that everyone is on the mat to learn.

Equally significant is the number of students who leave because they feel that aikido doesn't offer them immediate skills in defending themselves. For them, very often self-defence is equated with protection against violence and aikido's underlying philosophy of not meeting violence with violence seems to be a bit of a let-down. And they go to swell the ranks of the karate or muy thai classes.

Finally, I believe that there are those who leave because there are so few female role-models, so few senior female instructors within the structure of Aikido in South Africa - and abroad. None of the resident instructors at the clubs around the country are women, and we have a handful of women black belts and senior grades scattered around the country. And while it is important that women instructors are recognised for their skill and experience - not merely because they are female - they have to make it as instructors in the first place. And therein lies an important responsibility - if more women are to realise the value of Aikido, we need to create the conditions for them to experience that value and the beauty that is inherent in the art. Aikido, in the way that O-Sensei envisaged it, is universal. And our practice has to reflect that universality in reaching out to everyone - regardless of background, culture or indeed gender.

See you on the tatami soon.
Ghalib

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Four Makko-ho Exercises

Makko-ho was developed as way to rejuvenate the legs, correctly align the hips and spine, stimulate blood flow, sensitize the nervous system, and increase flexibility. Although the exercises are physical in nature, they make psychological demands of the practitioner. However, with persistence, patience, and a willingness to withstand minor pain, you will see some results in a short time and greater results over time.



There are only four exercise in Makko-ho. The following explanations and diagrams describe the ideal exercise positions. You probably will not be able to achieve the ideal positions in the beginning, and you may never achieve them, but results will come from achieving your best at each exercise.



Perform Makko-ho daily and hold each pose for about one minute.





Exercise One: Sit erect, heels together and aligned with knees, soles turned upward. In ideal pose, knees should rest on the floor. Keeping spine straight, lean forward to the floor. Beginners may grab feet and pull upper body down, while keeping spine straight.   

      







Exercise Two: Sit erect, legs extended in front, feet together and angled backward 60 degrees. Keeping spine straight, lean forward and rest chest on legs. Beginners may grab shins, ankles, or feet and pull upper body down, while keeping spine straight.   



       







Exercise Three: Sit erect, legs extended toward sides, feet angled backward 60 degrees. Optimum spread between the legs is 160 degrees. Keeping spine straight, lean forward and rest chest on floor. Beginners may grab shins, ankles, or feet and pull upper body down, while keeping spine straight.   



        







Exercise Four: Kneel on floor, toes pointed straight backward, and sit on floor between feet. Keeping spine straight, lean backward until back is flat on floor. Beginners may place hands behind on floor for support or sit on a cushion.   





 



Reference

Nagai, H. (1972). Makko-ho. Five Minutes Physical Fitness. San Francisco, CA: Japan Publications, Inc.

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Bred from Fear

On March 21, 1960 in Sharpeville in Gauteng, 69 people lost their lives and countless others were injured protesting against having to carry a pass (dompas) that identified them as third-class citizens in the land of their birth. Most of them were ordinary people, all of them asking only to be respected as equals.

Today, those 69 deaths and countless injuries serve as a grim reminder of the dark side of human nature and the very real, dire consequences of structural violence. The police brutality on that day was state-sanctioned. It could be perpetrated by individuals however who saw the people they were brutalising and killing not as people like themselves, but somehow as lesser entities. Not so long ago in the Rwandan genocide, similarly the other was described as "cockroaches" and therefore worthy of extermination. Stripped of their humanity, a former neighbour in Rwanda or fellow citizen at Sharpeville became a fair target for violence bred from fear.

Part of apartheid's success lay in the fact that for many years it successfully sold the idea that "separate but equal" was a viable option. And that many people believed it to be true. Equally that it used institutionalised and structured state-sanctioned and other violence to repress any disagreement. Violence is often the fall-back position of the fearful, and of those who - in O-Sensei's words - are out of synch with the Universe.

Today, nearly 5 decades later, the situation is different. We have a Constitution that recognises the inalienable right of each person's equality, dignity and freedom. We have the freedom to associate with whomsoever we wish, of free economic activity, of access to health and water and education. And yet in many ways the situation is very similar. While the politically-sanctioned state violence has disappeared, the structural inequalities that stem from a generation of treating people as less-than, are now fueled by a changed global economy that does not value skill-less people. So the unmet expectations are still there; as are the fears; as is the violence.

Our responsibility - as good citizens, as fellow human beings just - is to confront the violence in our own way. Not with more violence, but with understanding. And that understanding can only come if we open ourselves to meeting others and to discovering who they really are.

Our practice on the mat presents an ideal opportunity for us to engage with each other in a manner that is free of judgment. Whether our partner is tall or short, large or petite, young or old, a man or a woman, black or white makes little difference other than offering us the opportunity of discovering how best to engage with them so that our practice can improve.

"Ubuntu ngumtu ngabantu" - I am a person because of other people; or as John Donne (John Donne - For whom the Bell Tolls ) put it:

No man is an island entire of itself
Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main...
Any man's death diminishes me
For I am involved in mankind.
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.

So take this opportunity on the mat to get to know someone who in the ordinary course of your day you would not meet; improve your technique and ensure we have no Sharpevilles in our future.

See you on the tatami,

Ghalib

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On going before:

Riding in on the highway, perched on my little scooter as I zip my way to yoga practice. Feeling close to the still largely sleeping city, the early morning sea mist rolling lightly in from Table Bay tickling goosebumps everywhere, the slowly rising sun kissing the bald pate of the Lion's Head... Out in the gentle swell a few early rising surfers and kayakers are bobbing on the bosom of the sea as she breathes in and out in a timeless rhythm...

This idyllic setting, surrounded by the sounds of lapping waves and distant seagull calls, is very conducive to thinking... As is the medatitive quality of the surya namaskar, the salute to the sun.. As we flow from one pose to another, holding this one for a little longer, breathing just so in this other pose, my mind revisited my earlier angst about being an instructor and it struck me that having an instructor is very important.

We need someone, no matter how long we have been training, to point out the little nuances in the technique we had not thought about, or to push us beyond where we thought our boundaries lay, to affirm what we are doing well and to nudge us into discovering new things.. So while much of yoga practice is done solo (as different to aikido practice where a partner's help is essential), having someone to look you over with a watchful eye and a guiding hand is useful. I am eternally grateful to all the teachers & instructors - formal and informal - who have taken the time out to nudge me.

And that is a role I can definitely embrace....



I started this year with ruminations on training with a beginner's mind; I am starting to think that teaching with a beginner's mind - and with beginners in mind - is equally important..

See you on the tatami soon,

Ghalib

What a tumultous week this has been! Lots of Aikido to keep me busy with Sensei Guenter Heck from Berlin visiting there was the seminar this past weekend, a seniors' class last week and him leading the class at the dojo last night. And to top it all there was a grading of one of his students who has been training with us for the last year or so.

The experience itself was great; the enthusiasm on the face of people just starting out as they struggled (but not too much) to work out the movements was beautiful to see. The smiles on the faces of the seniors as we tried on new approaches to old situations was equally rewarding to behold. That we were able to cohabit the same class very comfortably and derive equal but different benefit is a testament to Sensei Heck's skill as a teacher and an instructor. And his clear and very precise instructions - and Aikido.

And that got me thinking about my own practice as a teacher, and what that means..

We address our instructors with the term "Sensei" in the sense of "teacher", but 'sensei' also has the meaning of "one who has gone before" or "one who has opened a way". So in the early days of our practice, the sensei plays the role of didactic teacher, instructing us in the technicalities of how to hold a grip or how to move off the line; later on s/he becomes one who has gone before, sharing his/her knowledge and experience for us to take on board, work with and ultimately integrate into our own practice or discard. Both phases require of us as students (for we remain students for as long as we practice) to respect the contribution of the instructor to our own growth. Aikido as a martial art and a training system requires the presence of a partner in practice. We cannot do it alone; we require other people (lots of them) to push us, throw us, confront us with ourselves and our limitations.

Being cast in the position of instructor, on the otehr hand, is quite a daunting one. I think it is a great responsibility to lay a proper foundation for this life-long learning endeavour. Helping students navigate their way throught the kyu grades is really about preparing them fo the real learning that starts at dan (or black belt) level. And for when they are no longer under your tutelage.

How well we do that is measured in the technical skill, the ability to learn and adapt and - above all - in the attitude toward life and those around them that they display.

I was reminded this week that Aikido must be practiced by considerate people, that it must be effective in its execution and that it must be elegant and beautiful in its execution. That is the goal of the training process.

And we should also realise that we do not hold all the answers - there is an obligation on us to be constantly refining our practice, both for our own benefit and for that of our students. It is all too easy to fall into the sweet trap of teaching that you stop learning. We need to balance sharing our own experience with ensuring our own development. We must realise that our true job is to enable learning and to facilitate growth. So when someone comes along who has gone before us - we should seize the opportunity - and encourage that thirst for learning in our students too.

I believe the true measure of a good teacher lies not in his/her grade - or in the number of letters behind their name. Rather, it lies in how well s/he can facilitate learning, growth and awareness. And whether s/he realises when to let go, so that the student can continue on their learning journey...

A tall order. One on which I often question whether I can truly deliver.

After 30 years of Aikido in South Africa, we have around 250 practising aikidoists in the country. At the Aikido World Games 10 times that number gathered in Germany. Elsewhere on this continent however, Aikido is unheard of. The challenges facing Aikido in a developing country such as ours are far different to those facing Aikido in a developed context. Economics, access to information and technology, social development, traditional and modern value systems all affect how people come into contact with Aikido and whether they stay.

I believe there is something of value in Aikido in our context at this juncture in our history, given where we come from and how we've managed to reconcile some our past national differences. New challenges await and each of us has a contribution to make. How we make it, and what we do will require some further reflection..

technorati tags:Aikido, Teaching, learning

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The only constant is change...

Wednesday 28/03/07 - This evening we trained at a special seniors' class in the mountains overlooking the Paarl mountains with visiting instructor, Sensei Guenter Heck from Berlin.
What a treat, and a breath of fresh air! Light and strong and precise. Being uke for him I felt positively elephantine in comparison. And I learnt lots!

But possibly the most important lesson I took from tonight's session is the need to adjust to changing circumstances. And to be ready to do so.

We practiced against yokomen-uchi (side strike), engaging by entering without clashing, then sliding off in a reverse triangle (in what Sensei Ken Cottier always described as a "sharpish movement"), before applying your chosen technique.

And it is in this "sharpish" reverse triangle that my lessson lay... Sometimes things are going along swimmingly, comfortably even, when out of nowhere you are thrown a curved ball, something unexpected. Life's funny that way.

Similarly, you could be training quite easily on the tatami, when suddenly you are paired up with an uke who attacks just that much stronger, or holds you in a grip that is that much tighter than you are used to.

You could just stand there and be overwhelmed - or you can adjust your posture and position, realign yourself and gain a new perspective. What I was reminded of on Wednesday night was that when one technique is blocked, from a different vantage point new openings will present themselves. What is required is a calm disposition, relaxing the body and freeing the mind to see the possibilities...
And like most things in life, this is easier said than done...

Things change in an instant - your company is taken over and you get posted overseas; you fall in love as your eyes meet across a crowded room; a taxi cuts in front of you as you are driving on a slippery road. In that moment it is almost too late to start thinking about relaxing and remaining calm.

Cultivating this ability to adjust, to take a fresh look at a current situation from a new perspective is critical. It requires constant practicing, reflection and adjustment. Constant training in tai sabaki (body movements) means that one is not overwhelmed because you have a set of coping skills to deal with the change.

A brand new year! Well, already the first month of this year has gone. And the world is a very different place to 2006.

We have one fewer dictator in the world after the hasty execution of Saddam Hussein just before New Year; the Republican party in the States has lost the war in Iraq and its grip on power back home; the earth is warmer - finally it is OK to admit that the weather is seriously funny and that we have caused it for the most part through our drive to consume. Imagine that the German bobsled team has to train on wheels - in the middle of WINTER in Germany!!!

But the beginning of the year is also a good time to start afresh, to look at what we have achieved in the preceding period and what the growth points should be for us in the new year. I graded to Sandan (3rd-degree) at the end of last year - the first time I had graded in nearly 9 years. And what it amounted to in the end was a validation of what I had been doing up until now, feedback regarding what I needed to concentrate on, and the realisation that after 20 years of practice, I was still a student - and would always be one.

Approaching your practice with the mind of a beginner is difficult. Most of us are focussed on becoming better or the best - in and of itself not a bad thing. However, we often measure success in terms of our relative standing to others. If Aikido or Life were a sport or a game, that ranking would be important. However, one of the central goals in Aikido (and in Life) is to become a better person. And that we can only do by looking within. And by becoming more aware - of others, of our attacker/partner, of ourselves. Every technique represents a dynamic relationship between uke and nage born in the moment they come together. Our lifelong practice represents a relationship with ourselves that seeks constantly to challenge the way we do things, how we react, what impact we have on the world around us. And in that regard we are all beginners.

At practice recently I was confronted with having to demonstrate a technique the execution of which I had not seen before. What a liberating experience! To be transported back to the position of being a beginner, and the excitement as the mind and body searched and cut-and-pasted from the thousands of movements they had experienced before until the movements felt right, until we stepped into the flow...

For having the mind of a beginner values what has gone before, validates our prior knowledge but opens us up to new experiences, or new perspectives on an old problem. Training with a beginner's mind does not mean we are stupid. Rather, it says that we are ready to learn, for if you are not making mistakes, chances are you are not learning.

So come step onto the safe space represented by the tatami and come make mistakes. Rather there than in real life...

See you on the tatami soon...

Ghalib

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