Openness

Hiding one whole self from
another whole self encumbers
full meeting. It is difficult enough for
naked bodies to meet wholly.
When two selves are clothes in
pretense, they cannot come together;
there is separateness in their
togetherness, not togetherness in
their separateness.

- Ray Grigg -

Opening up to possibilities

One of the hardest things to do is to open up in the face of an attack. It feels counter-intutitive. All of one's defensive mechanisms scream in protest at the impending doom. And yet that is often what aikido demands of one - to step into the space before that attack is complete, to face it and to work with it.
Doing so requires that you open yourself to the possibility of being hit, of being hurt. And therein lies the difficulty. None of us wants to be hurt.

And so often, as the one leading the class I have demonstrated how to execute ikkyo against shomen-uchi, how to enter directly under the attack, how to lead it upwards in a spiral so as not to clash.. And over and over I have exhorted students to open up, to enter fully with the body (the true meaning of irimi)...
But recently I realised that in order to open up there has to be a willingness to open up; that the hard work lay in the moment before the opening up. The challenge is not so much in executing the technique, but in the moment before - within ourselves.

The difficulty with holding back, of not engaging fully is precisely that - you do not engage fully. Very often I see students' posture shift completely as they over-extend their arms while retracting their centre in an instinctively defensive mechanism. So too in life when we fail to open up, we fail to engage fully - and we rob both ourselves and the other person of the full benefit and beauty of that engagement.

So next time on the mat, become mindful of the quality and nature of your interaction with uke and check that you are in fact fully present. And in your day-to-day dealings with people, explore what it feels like to open up - and the depth and quality that brings to your engagements and your relationships.

See you on the tatami soon....

Training with Joy....

For a while now I have had a gnawing feeling that something's been missing from our practice - or to be more precise, from my own practice.

And it struck me that perhaps over the last little while the lightness has not been there. O-Sensei exhorted us to train with Joy; one's aikido practice should be an en-lightening experience.

This last while has been stressful, filled with aggravation and even aggression. And filled with human suffering. And in the midst of all that, it was easy to forget the good in life, the fundamental goodness of all human beings that O-Sensei often spoke of; the Universal Love that is at the heart of aikido - and should be present in our practice.

In our daily lives, beset as we are by work pressures, exams & deadlines, relationship woes or other challenges, we often close ourselves down, reducing our focus to the immediate problems. In focusing that narrowly though, often our whole experience becomes reduced to that issue.
Similarly on the tatami, we focus on the attack, ready ourselves for our response - and get drawn to the fist or strike or get locked in the grip - often anticipating the attack before it is formed.

And unsurprisingly, we find ourselves stuck, or blocked - or worse.

The challenge is to find the lightness, the joy in the movement, the ease that comes from the point of stillness at the centre of our being, rather than the dis-ease that comes when life threatens to overwhelm us.

Our internal state does and will influence our external practice. By the same token though, our external practice can and should serve to shift our internal state. Forcing it though does not help. Focusing so hard that you frustrate yourself is not the answer.
The challenge is to relax into the movement, to reach out to your partner, to be grateful for the opportunity to learn that is being presented - especially to learn about yourself, and the joy that burns within.

So here's looking forward to taking up our practice again - with a smile on our face - that comes from deep within.....

See you on the tatami soon

Some Thoughts on Grading Examinations

From Shihan Ken Cottier (7th Dan)

I have been surprised on a number of occasions by just how badly some students take a failure. On the other hand I have been happy with the mature way in which some have reacted to a disappointment. (I should point out that I have never given a grading in Britain and am referring to my experience in Hong Kong.) I remember that there was one fellow I failed and I actually expected that he would give up Aikido when I informed him. On the contrary, he responded with a smile as though saying "Not to worry: there's always the next time".

Some may feel that they have been treated unfairly in that they have held their present grade much longer than some who have advanced to the next one. But have they been practising, say, just twice a month as distinct from, say, two or three times a week as in the case of those who have moved ahead of them? Another important factor to consider is what level of instruction is one receiving. In other words, some may be under the watchful eye of a senior yudansha, whereas others receive their instruction from perhaps a 2nd or 1st kyu. Some, too, use class time more constructively than others and may even practise at home.

Once, on failing a lady, I asked her how she felt she had done. Since I felt she had not been even near the borderline I did not expect her answer "very well". So what does this tell us? Well, to me, that the examiner sees a lot more than the examinee.

Let's advance on this. Student 'A' makes a number of mistakes in the techniques but get everything else (distance, timing, coordination, manner, etc.) right. Student 'B', on the other hand, makes no mistakes in the techniques but gets everything else wrong. If we observe a 3rd kyu, shodan, sandan and rokyudan executing shiho-nage, although basically they are all doing the same thing, there are differences between them.

Then there are those who almost demand to be graded in spite of having reached a stage where they do not seem to be able to progress any further for reasons such as past injuries, age, attendance or attitude. In the case of such people I sometimes wonder why in practising with people of the same grade or of lower grades, they cannot evaluate themselves. Then there is the opposite of this when students of a certain grade refuse to go further. In the days when I practised Judo there was one fellow I remember who stopped taking grades at 1st kyu although he probably reached nidan level. He used to delight in flinging dan grades around!

In awarding grades I do take into consideration age, in that I do not expect a 58 year old student to perform in the same way as a 20 year old. As for yudansha I look for a lot more than technique as I feel that a hakama in the wrong hands, so to speak, can do a lot of damage to Aikido, especially in areas where a shodan grade is quite significant.

Some years ago we had in Hong Kong a very good, very big, very strong student whom everyone enjoyed practising with. In other words, nobody was afraid of him. To me this said a lot when I came to grade him shodan. In Hong Kong all those wishing to try for shodan must first discuss it with a senior grade (we have 5 yondan) - usually the one who has most influenced them.

Hong Kong is often referred to as the crossroads of Asia, it being the stopping-off point to Japan, Taiwan, China, Thailand, the Philippines, etc. On visiting the dojo I have often found that we had a visitor from abroad. Over the years some that sported hakama in my opinion were not of dan grade standard. Nevertheless I have always welcomed them and not made them feel uncomfortable. After all, it is those who awarded such grades who should be accountable. I constantly tell our students that if they visit another country and are below par, it is me that it reflects on.

In conclusion let me say 'do not worry about grades unduly: they will come with the years'. Some of you may feel - as once I did - that you will never wear a hakama. But excluding accidents or other unforeseen circumstances, you will.

(First Published in the British Aikido Federation Newsletter, December 2002, No.43 - All Rights Reserved)

26 April 2008

26 April 1969, the Founder of Aikido, Morihei Ueshiba, passed on from this life. Acknowledged as one of the greatest martial artists of his time, O-Sensei is often likened to Miyamoto Musashi in terms of his influence over the development of Japanese martial arts in general.
Much has been written about this man who was born in the late 19th century and did much to modernise the Japanese warrior code and to bring it into the 2oth and now the 21st century.
Stories abound about his prowess as a martial artist: Rinjiro Shirata Shihan, one of his uchi-deshi, described his amazing power:

Although his hand was tiny, half the size of my own, his grip was crushing; it was impossible to move when he held your arm and even when he pinned you with one finger there would be a bruise on the spot for days. I could never comprehend how he threw us - all of a sudden you were flying through the air, almost floating on a cloud. You rarely felt knocked down. On the other hand, whenever he pinned you, it was like receiving an electric shock, the pain was so intense.

Many stories also abound of judo & kendo practitioners, sumo wrestlers and brawlers who in the late 1930s came to test the prowess of O-Sensei. In spite of being warned that there is no fighting in Aikido "because shiai (contest) really means shiai (mutual killing), not one of those who persisted was able to boast of having beaten the non-fighter. "Who can resist the power of non-resistance?" asked O-Sensei one day.
And it is really this legacy that lives on today, nearly four decades after his death. The idea that Love can conquer the fiercest attack, that "true budo is to nourish life and foster peace, love and respect". Fighting then is not about physical strength, but rather strength of character.

And for me living in South Africa at this juncture in its history, this is a message that is important. This weekend is also the celebration as a country of throwing off the first shackles of an entrenched discriminatory system. Sunday, 27 April, was the celebration of Freedom Day. And 14 years on the shine seems to have dulled a little bit. There just seems to be a greater degree of intolerance, violence at all levels seems just a little bit more visible, the disparities a little more poignant. It is in the face of these factors that Aikido, and its underlying philosophy of the universality of the human condition and of harmony with the universe, not competition against it, teaches us to embrace creatively the challenges of living in a multi-cultural, highly stratified and diverse society.

Freedom meant the freedom to discover the other people who occupy this country of ours. Our Aikido practice teaches us to engage and adapt to a range of different people, emphasising the flexibility we need in order to maintain both our own integrity and the openness to being changed by those who touch us and our lives.
This martial art we practice, helps us maintain a firm posture in the face of an attack, whilst flexible enough to exercise our choices of how to deal with the situation; strong in our entry and soft in our turning; firm in the execution of technique yet flowing in application.
These are all important attributes in our engagement with our life in South Africa as we, each one in our own way, strive to make that freedom a reality.

So this weekend we concentrated on blending with the attack. For in this simple principle lies one of the fundamental secrets of aikido - by blending not opposing you can overcome. This blending lies in the way we hold our hand when we tenkan, in how we step off the line on an irimi movement, in the way we project uke so that they are taken by surprise as their attack goes beyond what they intended and they fly through the air. By blending, we can remain calm, unfazed almost, and in that way choose our response, in the moment, according to what is necessary - what is just right.
And ultimately that is what is meant by being in harmony with nature - doing what is just right - not too much, nor too little.

In the Art of Peace we never attack. An attack is proof that one is out of control. Never run away from any kind of challenge, but do not try to suppress or control an opponent unnaturally. Let attackers come any way they like and then blend with them. Never chase after opponents. Redirect each attack and get firmly behind it.

Morihei Ueshiba

The Still point

This first entry of 2008 comes with the swish of waves lapping on the Camps Bay shore at 10h30, the feel of fine sand between my toes and the gentle heat of the UV rays on my shoulders ensuring that my natural brown goes even more bronze... Ahh the joys of modern mobile telephony...

Last night on the mat we practiced a number of techniques, including a fairly basic shiho-nage (4-corner throw) from katate-dori. Imagine, if you will, you are in left hanmi; your attacker reaches out to grab your left hand, whilst preparing to strike you with his right hand. You step in a rearward circle, drawing your left foot back and to a position 270 degrees to its previous position. This draws your attacker (uke) into the signature circular movement of aikido. You draw your hands to your centre, collect uke's outstretched wrist, raising it to your forehead before stepping forward, swiveling and throwing uke to the ground.


The circular movement makes a lot of sense: the hub of a wheel moves very little, while the outer rim has to move relatively, faster and further. Keeping uke then on the periphery of the circular movement forces uke to work harder to keep up.
While this is a fairly basic technique, it was that moment of quiet just before you raise your arms that struck me last night.

In that moment, as uke is coming around, centripetal and centrifugal forces conspire to cause gravity to lose its dominion and a curious lightness, even weightlessness seems to envelop both parties.

Minegishi sensei (6th dan) exhorted us at the recent AFSA 30th anniversary celebration training to look for that moment before uke settles back into posture. That is the moment to make one's move. Wait too long and you allow uke to regain his/her balance which you have worked to unsettle. Things become solid, staid, heavy and hard to move. Find that moment and your subsequent movements become light and effortless.




Finding the moment requires that you are completely present in the moment, that you are aware of everything that is happening between you and uke in that moment. You can only get there if you do not hold onto any one thing, but rather "listen" to everything happening - with your whole body.
it is also in that moment of quiet when all is still that the myriad possibilities of techniques or responses are revealed.



In Aikido, we are constantly looking for an opening, a physical gap into which tori can step or uke can fall. It is equally important to find that other gap where time and gravity stand still, and where softness resides. That is what takes your movement from technical proficiency to true artistry.

TS Eliot put it far better,and far more succinctly:

At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless.
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is....

Off the mat too, finding that elusive space of perfect stillness and quiet among the hubbub of our daily life, is also essential. Too much of our lives is spent reacting to events or stimuli, in knee-jerk reactions to things that happen without interposing or finding that moment of quiet to truly evaluate what is occuring. And then responding appropriately.

On the mat this results in a less than satisfactory technique or a painful experience for uke; in our daily lives it may also result in painful regrets or recriminations. The magic of the still point, and of the creativity locked within it and the range of choices it offers us, takes us from subsisting to truly living. In the same way that it uplifts your technique from being technically good to truly artistic, so too it permits us to experience the artistry of living a life more fulfilled.


So if you excuse me now, I'm off to find my own personal still point as the icy aquamarine Atlantic snatches my breath away as I dive into her embrace....

See you on the tatami soon

Ghalib