Between Structure and Flow

The August 2013 Monthly Seminar had as its focus the rather provocative enquiry of what lies between structure (or stasis) and flow.

On one level this could be about the way we train. In kihon-waza (basic practice) often the training is slow, static even, methodically working out the composite steps in the technique. At the other end of the scale in applied technique everything is over in an instant with it being hard to say whether it was a shihonage or a variation of kotegaeshi or a breath-power throw (kokyunage) that lies at the root of all aikido projections.

In this seminar then we explored that movement from static technique to flowing movement; from basic technique to applied interpretation.

First, starting from shomenate (the upward strike to the face, as opposed to shomenuchi, the downward strike to the top of the head), we first worked with ikkyo omote ( the first immobilisation done to the front), finding the right line and the sweet spot where the partner’s balance and stability is most affected.

Thereafter, we added an additional element where the attacker offers a slight resistance at the meeting point preventing the hand from being led upward. In that moment, we practiced doing a kaiten (pivot) to blend in the (new) direction and consequently projecting the training partner downwards into a kokyunage.

Then, having overcome our ingrained (seemingly natural) impulse to resist the attack, we moved onto shihonage through a series of basic body movements: meet and blend with the attack, tenkan – kaiten – irimi – kaiten.

Finally we returned to our original impulse by moving into ikkyo in spite of the attacker’s change of tack and offered resistance. Stepping forward as the attacking partner pushed in the opposite direction meant that the defender got hooked or stuck at the point of contact, maybe even knocked off centre and out of posture. A mistake if you will.

Even in this place we discovered that movement was possible: meet and blend–irimi –tenkan–irimi–kaiten with a hand change at the second irimi movement created the conditions for a small wrist turn throw, or kotegaeshi.

So here we learn that it is possible to recover from a “mistake” if we are willing to let go of our preplanned movement, to regain our centre and take another step essentially. However, that step is just another basic step.

So between stasis (or structure) and flow we discovered there is Space:

• Through our engagement, we create the space into which either tori or uke can move through our body movements (irimi, tenkan, kaiten etc.). The resultant vortex is a place into which the technique may flow;
• There is always enough space – through the application of an appropriate body movement that emanates from the centre. Amazingly, even in ‘confronting’ a frontal attack, through the proper alignment of the body in a wedge-shaped triangle, it is possible to step into and through the attack;
• moving through that space requires sound application of basic footwork – a sure-footedness that stems from clear, unambiguous placement of one’s body in relation to another. Only where that is present are the two training partners able to navigate the ‘unknown’ contained in the space that is opened up; and
• Lastly, in that space between stuckness and flow is ‘Listening’ – not the intellectual listening and working out, but rather a sensing through the body of what must happen next, allowing the full capacity of the body’s millions of nerves and neurons to fire and analyse in that split second, unconsciously, what movement is called upon.

First day - Preparation

 

Tuesday 6 August, 2013

This day started with early morning practice at 07h00 in the open air dojo near the field that encourages a sense of expansiveness in the training. Given the mix of people practising - from complete beginners in Aikido to a 4th kyu from Germany and a nomadic shodan (1st degree black belt), we focused on laying some foundation stones for the practice:

Starting with tori-fune, the traditional rowing exercise that marks the beginning of the first class of the day, we rowed out to the notional island that is the dojo where we could practice untrammeled by any other concerns or the previous night's dreams. Tori-fune is the basis of all of aikido movements as it emphasises movement from one's centre and the principle of "centre first, limbs after". Tori-fune also emphasises the maintenance of postural and structural integrity whilst moving through space, shifting weight without over-extending.

Thereafter we became more acquainted with 3 basic ways of moving:

1. irimi (entering with the body) both forward and back (also known as ayumi ashi or entry step) 
2. kaiten - swivel or pivot; and
3. tenkan - 180 degree turn

Thereafter, we moved onto 3 combination body movements:

1. irimi-kaiten: stepping forward then swiveling resulting in the creation of a forward spiral. This was especially well experienced whilst a partner held onto a participant's wrist who then walked around a tight centre but creating more and more centripetal force
2. irimi-tenkan: stepping forward then turning 180 degrees, resulting in a   rearward spiral; and finally'
3. tenkan kaiten: that eventually forms the basis for shiho-nage or four corner throw

Over the coming days we will build on these foundation stones and explore more how these and other aikido principles, movements and techniques might hold practical significance in our lives in general.

The Dojo in the Village

Between Form and Structure

Between white and black there is iridescent green and brown.

When flow meets structure, the river sings

Creating its own melody: quick, quick, slow, slow

Oh so slow, quick, slow, quick.

Where flow meets structure, new life emerges

In crevices and cracks, transforming meeting

Places into miniature verdant living spaces.

When form meets structure, there is movement

Over stillness – and stillness creating new movement.

Deep potholes form as transported little rocks

Jostle each other in the flow,

Where flow and structure meet.

Rocks liquefy, droplets solidify

In the touch both are transformed.

Time is the ever-present partner

When flow and structure meet. 

(ghalib galant 2013)

Back to the Village

Monday 5 August, 2013 Sitting at OR Tambo airport, waiting to board my flight to Harare, flying into what? Zimbabwe and the rest of the region seems to be in a state of euphoria or shock depending on one's relative support for ZANU PF and the ageing strongman, Robert Gabriel Mugabe. An erstwhile liberator who has held that country in his thrall for over 30 years, he is set to rule for at least another 5 year term- his 7th. Rival MDC-T garnered 38% of the vote, in contrast to ZANU PF's 61%. Even a united opposition would not have made a dent in this 2/3 majority in this high-stakes, winner-take-all election game. Of course stories of vote-rigging, dead voters and intimidation abound. Most of those sound like the sour grapes of the opposition who was completely outmanouvered by an arch-strategist. Noneteless, some Zimbabweans have spoken. And so the future is certain - that it is as uncertain as it has been for several years now.

So what am I flying into? That will be revealed when i touch down later tonight. I am also flying into the unknown in another aspect - to attend a Warrior of the Heart training at the Kufunda Learning Village just outside Harare. A blend of aikido and hosting conversation practices, this training has come at the right time; a time I feel called to do more of both in this part of the globe I call home. Looking forward to the journey over the next 10 days - both inward and outward.

The projection of Love

Last weekend I was at a Zen retreat where I witnessed a kind of induction ceremony for teachers in the tradition. This kicked off some questions for me and a couple of Zazen sessions later it sparked me to contemplate the purpose of our gradings in Aikido. So these musings are a simple sharing of a change of perspective that occurred in me during this silent retreat. 

The motivation
Driven by fear or driven by love?
In most schools of Aikido students start taking gradings from an early stage beginning with the white belt (Kyu) degrees and then progressing to the black belt (Dan) degrees. Each grading includes an exam where the teacher(s) test the student’s progress in technique, movement and attitude on the mat. It is after this exam that we do or don’t get promoted to the next grade. Given the way most of us have grown up this kind of set-up easily gets us into achievement mode or even into comparison with fellow students.

Source: buddhadoodles.tumblr.com via TheAttitudeOfGratitude.com on Pinterest

This achievement and comparison mode can be a big trap with quite detrimental consequences for individuals, groups and communities inside the Aikido world and outside of it. When I look more closely I find it is completely opposite to everything I have learned through Aikido, simply because - as the founder of the art said - “Aikido is based on the projection of love” and where personal achievement and comparison are the primary driver love is impossible.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against personal achievement or against celebrating it. What I am saying is that as long as our "trying to get somewhere" is what drives us within we may be technically competent, yet we have missed something essential. On the mat uke is likely to feel that and off the mat it translates into tight and fearful relationships too. 

When I started my Aikido practice I was lucky to have a teacher whom I trusted deeply and I learned very early that Aikido training wasn’t about getting ahead. Gradings were more a matter of recognizing where the student was already and they never had a strong taste of personal achievement.

But if it’s not about measuring personal achievement, then what are these Aikido gradings about? And are they useful after all?

The Choice

Closed off or wide open?

In the silence of the retreat, gazing at the Zen garden between sessions of sitting meditation a new perspective occurred to me: What if receiving a grade was first and foremost a commitment to what is sometimes called “wearing your grade”? This is not about displaying how great you are; rather it means living your insight and wisdom as best you can every day – on and off the mat.

Personally I would like to focus more on this inner commitment as I take an exam, receive a grading certificate and continue to train. When I receive a grade I want my bow to be one of gratitude to all my teachers and one of re-commitment within myself.

As we continue on our Aikido journey there is also another element that comes into the practice. It is the element of sharing and helping others to grow and discover Aikido for and in themselves. I do not mean we should all make ourselves into teachers. Maybe it is most of all about paying attention to how we train with others, how we offer an attack, the way we place our shoes, the way we speak with each other. If we can do this with sincerity and openness I believe we are helping each other learn.

Source: buddhadoodles.tumblr.com via Sherri-Lynn on Pinterest

So then what about teaching? When should someone start to teach?

In my experience I cannot find an absolute answer to this and certainly not a particular grade. There simply may come the point where we are called upon to take up the role of a teacher – not just because we want to but because we have learned a lot and the students are there. When this happens I now see it as our responsibility to hear this call and to do it with all our heart. Sometimes we may not feel up to it on the day or maybe there is some inner doubt keeping us back (this has certainly tripped me up before) but we do it anyway. It’s a tricky one to know when to teach and how to teach because it requires a lot of awareness of our own motivations. It also needs the ability to see what is required of us in each moment and the courage to take along our vulnerability and do it anyway. 

 

Lastly, I now hope for the courage and presence to live by these insights more and more.

This quote from “The Art of Peace” by Morihei Ueshiba, founder of Aikido inspires me and helps me remember:

If you have not
Linked yourself
To true emptiness,
You will never understand
The Art of Peace.

The Path is exceedingly vast

This past week I came across an interesting piece written by a fellow aikidoist from this Southern tip of Africa. It is at once an emotive and emotional piece by one of the senior practitioners of the Art in South Africa. As Chief Instructor of the Aikido South Africa organisation, what he says carries a fair degree of weight, not least of all for the influence he holds over students affiliated to that organisation.

Dr Goliath is one of the most passionate aikidoists I know,  as well as one of the technically most accomplished I have had the privilege of training with over the past many years. And certainly his dedication and commitment to his training should serve to inspire new and old students alike.

Entitled "My Path with Fujimoto Shihan (8th dan) - The Establishment of Aikido South Africa (R) NPC" (Click here to download the document ), I was looking forward to reading about the impact that studying under Fujimoto Shihan for the past decade or so has had on him - both personally and in terms of the meaning of Aikido. Along the lines of that really insightful and entertaining read The Swordmaster's Apprentice by Edward Burke.

I was therefore saddened as I read the long, brave document: 'long' because it runs into 43 pages, 'brave' because lays bare the deep hurt and pain that has dogged his 19-year journey with Aikido. Instead of a homage to his teacher, I found a piece that was filled with frustration, hurt and anger fuelled by a quest for recognition and validation. A validation that he did not find within AFSA over the 15 years he was associated with that body, and that spurred him onto establish ASA. That would be fine, except for how that anger and hurt causes him to lash out in his writing in a hurtful, violent, disrespectful and, to my mind, un-Aikido manner. 

For that is the crux of my reflection: our training in Aikido precisely seeks to equip us with those responses that are non-violent, protect even our attacker and transform (not merely resolve or manage) those conflictual situations we find ourselves in. Our training is precisely to overcome the classic 'fight-or-flight' responses hotwired into our beings and to give us the option to flow with whatever experiences we have in the moment - and to choose the nonviolent solution. Nonviolence is not a passive acceptance of everything; rather it is a conscious choice to respond and relate to the situation/attacker in a way that does no harm whilst still respecting one's own integrity and whatever is going on for you. 

Intentionally crafting something that attacks another and intentionally causes pain without recognising our own motivations smacks of a lack of self-awareness and of the compassion that lies at the heart of aikido training.  I will not deal with the organisational and other misrepresentations - of which there are several - that I see in the piece - save to say that I acknowledge that those misrepresentations arise from a deep wound aggravated by his experiences within AFSA. 

Training in Aikido is an intensely personal affair; it is not a team sport. While one relies on one's partner to provide an honest attack and response, one's practice is about refining oneself - in relation to the attack. O Sensei famously stated that he was not able to be defeated, not because he was a formidable technical martial artist, but rather because he was in harmony with the universe - something his attacker was not. Ai-Ki-Do has at its centre the notion of Spirit (Ki); the art is not one merely of training the body towards technical competence. It is true that aikido practiced with spirit and no technical competence is ineffectual; aikido practiced with technical proficiency and no spirit is at best brutish and bereft of the transformative power that lies within the physical practice. 

It is interesting to reflect on these words also by O Sensei: 

"The appearance of an 'enemy' should be thought of as an opportunity to test the sincerity of one's mental and physical training, to see if one is actually responding according to the divine will.... Our enlightened ancestors developed true budo based on humanity, love and sincerity: its heart consists of sincere bravery, sincere wisdom, sincere love and sincere empathy. These four spiritual virtues should be incorporated in the single sword of diligent training; constantly forge the spirit and the body and let the brilliance of the transforming sword permeate your entire being". 

As on the mat when facing a committed shomen-uchi attack, in Life too when confronted with situations that are violent and aggressive, unfair, or downright rude, the practice is NEVER to respond in a like manner, beating the opponent to the punch because you are bigger, faster, more technically capable than him/her. This competitive spirit was anathema to O Sensei in his mind being relegated to the domain of sports. So on the mat we are not in competition with uke; uke presents us with an opportunity to examine our fear, anxiety even our exuberance in our response and to work on the obstacles inside us that prevent us from blending and flowing. This competitive spirit is equally out-of-place between teachers, between dojos or between associations. "My teacher is better than your teacher" is OK for a 1970s grainy martial arts movie; it has no place in the sincere practice of aikido today. Indeed we do ourselves the greatest disservice when we adopt such an attitude. 

"The Path is exceedingly vast", O Sensei said. "From ancient times to the present, even the greatest sages were unable to perceive and comprehend the entire truth; the explanations and teachings of masters and saints only express part of the whole". For this reason it is important to train with humility; and equally to teach with humility. Anyone who claims to have found the Way can be assured that s/he has not say the Taoists. No path is better or worse than another - all paths lead to the Tao/Do. What we choose is a path in our aikido practice that speaks to something deep inside us. And a teacher who expresses this. And we are extremely lucky when we find such a teacher who is able to help put us in touch with that core essence of aikido (or whatever the practice is in fact) - in other words are able to bring us in closer touch with our essential being, with our common humanity, with our oneness. A teacher is someone who helps strip away our arrogance, our delusions, our fears and anxieties to introduce us to that beautiful core of compassion within us all. This does not depend on rank or hierarchical standing; it has more to do with being rather than doing. 

And therein lies the immense responsibility for anyone who assumes the role of teacher (or Sensei).  Someone in that position - whether delegated or assumed - has the responsibility to do more than show good techniques; s/he has to embody the spirit of the principles of the practice in how they relate to others - and their students. 

We all are flawed; the Path is exceedingly vast. We therefore need to make way for each other along that Path. 

 

 

"So let us consider together, those of us who can communicate, whether it is at all possible totally to end every form of violence  in ourselves and still live in this monstously brutal world. I think it is possible. I don't want to have a breath of hate, jealousy, anxiety or fear in me. I want to live completely at peace. Which does not mean that I want to die. I want to live on this marvellous earth, so full, so rich, so beautiful. I want to look at the trees, flowers, rivers, meadows, women, boys and girls, and at the same time live completely at peace with myself and the world. What can I do?
If we know how to look at violence, not only outwardly in society - the wars, the riots, the national antagonisms and class conflicts - but also in ourselves, then perhaps we shall be able to go beyond it."  - KRISHNAMURTI

On the mystery of Aikido

This week a bunch of us went for drinks after an Aikido class. In a stream of animated conversation someone said:

“The longer you practice the bigger the mystery of Aikido becomes.”


The comment stuck with me. In my own experience this somehow seemed true and I became curious about it.

When I started Aikido almost 13 years ago I noticed there was something it did to me. I found I had more energy, I interacted differently with others, was more alive after class and more quiet inside. There was a mystery to it.

Over time different elements of this mystery came into the spotlight and I learned about them through the training. For example it was an exercise in not trying so hard but just doing. An element of trust started growing. Then there was the practice of blending, receiving, and softening - a practice of acceptance and an experience of Unity and Love. At other times we paid special attention to the body placement, the distance, the relation to the attacker and the space around. I learned something about expansiveness, about spaciousness and freedom.

These are only some examples and different teachers have emphasised different aspects for me. However, first and foremost whatever I needed to learn seemed to present itself – whether I liked it or not. Sometimes it could be about a mirror-like stillness and clarity, about lightness or groundedness, about strength, clear cutting clarity or even about vulnerability.

So with practice the insight into different aspects deepens. We understand techniques a little more deeply and experience the subtleties a little more clearly. Yet, I remain with the sense of a bigger mystery.

How come this is the case? What is that I call a mystery?

Maybe what we experience as a growing mystery is in fact a deeper understanding of the essence of Aikido.
The word Aikido is often translated as “The Way of Harmony of the Spirit”.

So Aikido is a way – a path. A path holds in it the energy of movement; not appoint or a goal but a dynamic, changing quality.

Harmony to me has an element of surrender and letting go. To be in Harmony we must stop interfering and imposing our will. Instead, we listen and follow.

Listen and follow what? 
Listen to the Spirit.

But what is the Spirit?
This is where the mystery comes in. In my experience the growing sense of mystery does not mean a growing confusion but rather a more intimate sense of the deeper nature of that Spirit. It is a clearer sense that the essence of that Spirit is actually indeterminable. It cannot be grasped in words and images. In Zen we refer to this indeterminacy as emptiness. It means you cannot say it exists or it doesn’t exist, it moves or it doesn’t move and you cannot even say it neither moves nor it doesn’t move. This is a subtle and deep way of pointing to the core of the mystery.

So when we say the mystery of Aikido deepens we could also say we are simply becoming more intimate with this Spirit that cannot be known. We know that it cannot be known.

Aikido also adds another dimension from here: It is dynamic and its movements are infinite. It is a physical expression that shows us the infinite possibilities in which the Spirit can express itself when we become open enough to listen and follow. It may be a soft, gentle touch, a vast movement, a strong and clear cutting entry or a small blending turn.

So maybe, as we practice we become more and more comfortable and intimate with moving from and with that Spirit which cannot be pinpointed. The more this happens the more we are able to intuitively make the right movement. In fact we are not really making that movement, it just happens. It’s that sense of just moving without thinking yet being completely present and engaged.

So what value does all of this have in our life?

Firstly let me say that my personal approach to Aikido practice is not concerned with a particular goal. I practice and teach because I feel a resonance in my heart.

Of course Aikido can be used in many different ways to gain insight into our human experience and to learn new ways of working with that. For example Aikido can teach us about ways in which we relate in conflict. It can give us new perspectives on our ways of communicating and listening. It can give us insight into our emotional and psychological patterns and much more. These are precious lessons, yet to use Aikido only as a tool n this way would mean limiting the potential that Aikido itself has to offer if we are totally open to it.
Having said this, I have also found that practicing Aikido has a profound impact on our lives outside of the dojo. This journey is always a personal one. In my own path it has been about trying less and trusting more, about relaxing and letting go. It has grown my capacity to stay present and relaxed even when it is uncomfortable and to move more freely and openly through life. It has taught me about taking space and giving freely and much more.

So the growth is personal and yet it has a profound reach. I experience this in my own life and have seen it many times through fellow students. As we grow in Aikido and in ourselves our ways of being in our personal relationships, at work, in our communities and our environment changes; not because we want it to but because we are closer to our Essence - the Spirit - and our actions become a spontaneous expression of this touching each and every space we enter.