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.

New Year's Resolutions

Today is the last day of 2010 and so the madness and the mayhem, the jubilation and the joy, the anger and the anguish, the sense and the senselessness, the fears and the foolishness, the highs and the high-fives of the year are officially behind us. And we can breathe a sigh of relief and wonder and turn the corner to face the unknown road that lies ahead of us in 2011.

It is also traditionally the time to make New Year’s Resolutions – a commitment to do more of, to do differently, to know more and deeper and to be the change we want to see in the world – even if it is only in the immediate world we inhabit. It is the time we make our intentions for the coming year.

So in respect of our aikido training, here are some thoughts for the new year:

• · Two elements will deepen our practice: intent and intensity. On the mat, train as if your life depends on it; off the mat your life does depend on it. As a martial art, you need to train as if you intend to use your aikido someday to protect your life, or the life of a loved one. Do NOT train as if your life is currently threatened, but train as if it may someday be. Take your training seriously and with proper intent and intensity for practical real-world application.
• · As a spiritual discipline, you need to train as if your spiritual life depends on it. No matter what your partner does, you must uphold your own level of ethics and behaviour. One’s spiritual / personal development depends on sticking strictly to one’s work and progress. No-one can do it FOR anyone else. We can help our training partners, but we cannot do it for them.
• · We also need to train with intense intent. Intensity follows intent. If your intent is to spend some time socialising with your training partners, your training intensity will be minimal. If on the other hand, you intend to be able to apply your aikido either to defend yourself or to improve yourself, your seriousness and intensity will be higher.
• · Train consistently and persistently. Progress doesn’t just come; any skill needs consistent attendance and persistent practice to deepen.
• · O-Sensei also wanted us to train joyously and in a celebratory manner fully aware of the serious (and dangerous) martial art aikido is.
• · Train slowly and consciously. This means paying attention to the little details. The best way to progress quickly, is to progress slowly. Pay attention to the little things – inside and around you – and you will be able to make big changes.

Here's looking forward to training with you in 2011!!!

See you on the tatami

On Courage

I found a samurai in a rather unusual place... Reading a collection of writings and speeches by the late Steve Biko, I write what I like, I came across a piece that struck a chord with me....

A few months before his incarceration and eventual death in detention at age 30, Bantu Steve Biko was interviewed by an American businessman.

You are either alive or proud or you are dead, and when you are dead, you can’t care anyway. And your method of death can itself be a politicising thing. So you die in the riots. For a hell of a lot of them, in fact, there’s really nothing to lose – almost literally, given the kind of situations that they come from. So if you can overcome the personal fear for death, which is a highly irrational thing, you know, then you’re on the way.

And in interrogation the same sort of thing applies. I was talking to this policeman, and I told him, “If you want us to make any progress, the best thing is for us to talk. Don’t try any form of rough stuff, because it just won’t work.” And this is absolutely true also. For I just couldn’t see what they could do to me which would make me all of a sudden soften to them. If they talk to me, well I’m bound to be affected by them as human beings. But the moment they adopt rough stuff, they are imprinting in my mind that they are police. And I only understand one form of dealing with police, and that is to be as unhelpful as possible. So I button up. And I told them this: “It’s up to you.” We had a boxing match the first day I was arrested. Some guy tried to clout me with a club. I went into him like a bull. I think he was under instructions to take it so far and no further, and using open hands so that he doesn’t leave any marks on the face. And of course he said exactly what you were saying just now: “I will kill you”. He meant to intimidate. And my answer was: “How long is it going to take you?” Now of course they were observing my reaction. And they could see that I was completely unbothered. If they beat me up, it’s to my advantage. I can use it. They just killed somebody in jail – a friend of mine – about ten days before I was arrested. Now it would have been bloody useful evidence for them to assault me. At least it would indicate what kinds of possibilities were there, leading to this guy’s death.

So I wanted them to go ahead and do what they could do, so that I could use it. I wasn’t really afraid that their violence might lead me to make revelations I didn’t want to make, because I had nothing to reveal on this particular issue. I was operating from a very good position, and they were in a very weak position. My attitude is, I am not going to allow them to carry out their programme faithfully. If they want to beat me five times, they can only do so on condition that I allow them to beat me five times. If I react sharply, equally and oppositely to the first klap, they are not going to be able to systematically count the next four klaps, you see. It’s a fight. So if they had meant to give me so much of a beating, and not more, my idea is to make them go beyond what they wanted to give me and to give back as much as I can give so that it becomes an uncontrollable thing. You see the one problem the guy had with me: he couldn’t really fight with me because it meant he must hit back, like a man. But he was given instructions you see, on how to hit, and now these instructions were no longer applying because it was a fight. So he had to withdraw and get more instructions. So I said to them, “Listen, if you guys want to do this your way, you have got to handcuff me and bind my feet together, so that I can’t respond. If you allow me to respond I’m certainly going to respond. And I’m afraid you may have to kill me in the process even if it is not your intention”.

The interview with Steve Biko conjured up many thoughts for me, as I hope it will for you. Maybe it will help you think about your own courage as it did me. How many of us are willing to suffer –as he did – for what we believe in? How many of us “activists” are still prepared to do so; those of us who regale others who were not there with stories - many of them becoming embellished in the retelling- how many of us persist today, continue to stand up in the face of injustice and without fear or favour are able to speak unpalatable truth to overweaning power. How many of those who call ourselves “activists” or not are able to do that – especially with our friends. It is often a battle that is harder to do than with our enemies.

How many of us are in fact willing to sit with ourselves in integrity and speak unpalatable truth to power to ourselves when we utilise our power to wrong another?

Recently I had the misfortune to see, hear and feel the pain as a colleague who does amazing facilitation work had to confront the disjuncture between what he says and what he does. And face the prospect of the complete destruction of a meaningful relationship. I saw the physical and emotional torment the situation caused him. I know that well; I too have visited that place. In the end, he lost the battle within himself, choosing instead to retreat behind carefully crafted internal walls where no other person can touch him – and there in his solitude, far away from anyone else, he felt in (false) control.

Being a warrior is hard. More than fighting, it is also about being willing to die – and for death not to matter. Knowing what you stand for means you don’t fall for everything.

Our training on the tatami offers us the space for that kind of preparation. At a technical level, practice in irimi (entering with the body) in the face of an attack helps to clear away the impurities that stick like barnacles to our technique. At another level, training with full awareness and consciousness – even on the days we would rather not – helps to clarify for us our purpose and how we live that our in relation to others.

As we refine what it is we stand for, the challenge becomes to implement that in all aspects of our lives – how we work, how we play, how we relate to others, how we love. At that point the artificial distinctions cease because there is no difference between me the brother, son, colleague, facilitator, writer, teacher, seeker after insight, lover or friend. When those carefully crafted yet artificial distinctions we cherish inside us fall away, the true warrior, samurai (one who is in service [to humanity]) can step forward. That is perhaps Takemusu aiki – aikido (the spirit of harmony) without form.

While Steve Bantu Biko paid the ultimate price at the tender age of 30, each of us has the space to grapple with those self-same issues in less terminal circumstances. Thanks to the sacrifice of people like him.

Courage is the power to let go of the familiar... To step out from our comfort zones and to know and show what we stand for.

See you on the tatami...

On creating connection

Remember, you cannot hold bliss

in your fist;
You can hold bliss only in your open hand – OSHO

Much of the training this year has been about bringing softness to the hard edges in my technique…. Whereas last year the focus became about facing my fears and nurturing the ability to stand up, in the face of an attack (sometimes even on my integrity) without aggression, this year - 2010 – was about finding the softness within and without. And while last year was focused on body movements (tai no henko) and especially on practicing kaiten and irimi, this year the focus shifted to creating musubi or connection with your training partner (uke).

We create musubi in many ways:

When we start our training, the connection starts when uke grabs our hand or our shoulder. Here the focus is on the proper body placement in relation to uke.

Later it progresses to connecting when uke starts his or her shomen (overhead) or yokomen (lateral) strike or launches a tsuki (punch). This is a slightly higher level of training because it doesn’t rely on a physical touch but rather connected to uke in the moment the attack becomes expressed. The downside of this stage of practice, is that it can still remain reactive training, dependant on getting the timing right. Move too late and the strike connects. Move too early and uke has the opportunity to realign and to change the attack – and again the strike connects. At this level of training it is important to be at the right place at the right time.

The most difficult stage ( or rather the most challenging one) is yet to come… In this stage, one connects with uke’s intention – as expressed in many miniscule body movements (shifts in posture, state of the eyes, change in breathing even or a readying of the shoulders). This is the stage of sen-no-sen, of connection with uke as a human being, with his or her spirit and the moment of the possibility of transformation.

Not surprisingly, this stage requires us to still the noise within, to find the still-point that TS Eliot speaks of, where the dance is. The relaxed power to move, to truly connect and to flow can only come when we have let go of the fears, faced the doubts and when we choose to step forward and engage notwithstanding – into the uncertainty of what will happen in the next moment. It happens when we choose to reach out to the other person.

Over and over in my mind plays a throw-away comment many years ago by the late Shihan Ken Cottier that the essence of kokyu-nage (breath power throw), indeed the essence of Aikido lies in these three elements – body placement, timing and kokyu-rokyu (relaxed breathing).

This past year I have often struggled to get these three elements just right both on and off the mat; I have often found myself in opposition to uke, clashing (sometimes only subtly) with his/her attack or running into uke’s power. Always, and without exception, that has been because I have been in just the wrong position relative to the attack. Many times I have berated uke (in my mind) for an improper attack – yet, honestly, it is only my placement that is at issue. The attack is the attack. I was “killed” five times in demonstration in December for every time being in the wrong place along the arc of the bokken’s cut.

At other times, my timing’s been off. With practice, thankfully it has improved over the years. Yet as uke for Kubota Shihan, I was reminded that there was a tardiness in my attack and response. And while that may be hidden in my ordinary practice, when a 7^th dan holds up a mirror to you, those imperfections and areas of improvement are highlighted. And so I have to wonder also whether off the mat, how many opportunities that slight hesitation has lost me? So next year I will train more consciously exploring where the caution, where the hesitation lies….

And still the relaxation – and the power that comes from truly being relaxed – eludes me. Not always, mind you. And I am more aware now where and when it is absent. But still here too there is room for improvement.

And so, as I write these reflections perhaps the challenge in making a real connection starts to reveal itself:

Much of it lies in what I do (or say), how I place myself in relation to the other person. Do I assume a cold, dispassionate distance, do I open myself up completely (also to the possibility of being disappointed or hurt), do I subordinate myself completely enduring the strikes believing resolutely that there is no gain without pain? How do I blend with the other person, without giving up the essence of who I am, without losing myself in the process?

Nonetheless, one third of connecting with someone else is just turning up, being present; without being around there can be no connection. So it all begins with taking the decision to be there. And with that decision to be there, to relate, it is important to then be there fully to allow for the possibility of the connection.

Timing too is crucial. How much is too much, or too little, or too late? In moving, do we move together or to a different beat? Am I truly present or stuck in a distant and fading past or lost in the fluffy promise of a fuzzy future?

And lastly, the challenge of truly connecting to another human being lies in being relaxed, relaxed enough to be myself… What stops us from that state? What fears drive us to hide (parts of) ourselves, to clothe ourselves sometimes in garments of civility and friendship even without ever revealing ourselves to allow true intimacy?

And of course we choose how to connect.

Sometimes we get it right; sometimes we don’t and invariably then we get hurt – or worse still hurt the other person. In this practice called Life the only real mistake is to continue to make the same ones over and over.

So here’s to deepening our awareness, deepening our musubi, our connectedness to one another… And opening up to being transformed by the connection.

See you on the tatami in the New Year!

What is Aikido and What Does Training Mean to Us?

On August 29, 2010, Seiichi Sugano Shihan (8th dan) passed on. He was one of O-Sensei's live-in students (uchi-deshi). Known for his vibrant Aikido, he continued to train and teach even after 2003 saw him undergo an amputation below his left knee. Until the last, he continued to refine his aikido, challenging his students across the world to refine theirs too.

Below is an article Sugano Shihan wrote about what Aikido meant to him...

Progress

When it comes to progress, I think we may have to ask how progress relates to Aikido. In a sense consciousness to achieve or to progress is the essence of sports. In the world of sports, one is considered to have achieved his or her goal when that person becomes a champion.

However, Aikido exists outside such a frame of progress. There is no clear attainment point in Aikido no matter how many years one practices. In other martial arts, the results of practice are clear by the number of

people one threw in a lesson. Aikido has no such clear results. One must meet the demands of self learning. It can be hard to continue Aikido unless one has a desire to constantly learn.

The teaching method, too, is an important subject. In the case of sports, there are matches, so there is a clear result. Since one’s progress is apparent, the teaching method has always been studied and evaluated. Meanwhile, in Aikido, the basic teaching method whereby students [observe and copy] the throws and techniques shown by their teacher and then repeat them has not changed from old days too much.

It is important that the teacher tries to make the training meaningful for the students, and it should be done with an intention to help the students develop their ability. No development or the progress will be made only by showing one's strength and preeminence.

Progress also depends on how the students would like to practice. One might simply enjoy training as recreation. For those people who would like to train seriously, it will be more interesting and helpful for the development of their abilities if they have the right kind of teaching and opportunities.

In Belgium, I teach classes called “inner school” in response to the solicitation of students’ desire to learn further. I initially limited the classes to only forty students with black belts. I call it a school program, rather than a seminar. It takes place in a training camp form. There also was a request in the Netherlands, so I started the school over there, too.

Even though there are only few of these schools, there are people who wish to attend programs like this with great interest. I believe that more places and more opportunities should be given to such people.

Kata

It is generally said that Aikido is a practice of Kata (forms). However, Aikido practice does not include “Kata”, but a “repetition of the skills” or “repetition of the movement” to be exact. One tends to have a fixed image regarding term “Kata”. If people with some knowledge of the martial arts hear “Kata”, they would most likely have an image of something fixed. It is important to carefully choose the terms we use because people tend to anchor a certain image.

In the case of Aikido, if one is doing the same Iriminage, one is not repeating the same thing.

Subconsciously, the throw changes depending on the partner. As for the practice of Kata, one must concentrate on it and think about it while practicing precisely as possible. The nature of such practice cannot vary depending on one’s physical or emotional conditions. Aikido practice, on the other hand, can be done more freely as it does not have fixed forms which have to be done precisely.

I think the fact one can train freely is a positive benefit of Aikido practice. Nonetheless, one must make sure that the practice does not end up impulsive and inconstant.

Now, there are many terms used in Aikido that are brought from different martial arts other than Kata. For example, “Ukemi” comes from judo. [But] Aikido ukemi is about following the movement of the nage and is different from that of judo.

Another example is “Suburi” which is a movement of swinging a bokken. The term comes from kendo. It is difficult to express the exact meaning of the term if the term is adopted from another context. Therefore other knowledge is necessary to display one's experience. Without knowledge, a term is apt to have nothing solid but only mood and feeling.

Levels of Understanding

In Aikido, one learns by experiencing through the body. This alone would only result into physical experience, even after ten years of practice. If one continues practicing for many years, of course, the body becomes strong. However, the level of understanding can still be doubtful.

Everything is learned physically as a result of experience, but to display what has been learned, some verbal expression and other methods become necessary. Hence, one should find opportunities and try to learn various things outside of Aikido.

O-Sensei realized it in the Omoto religion. I don’t think one could fully understand the discipline of Aikido without something like that. Learning by the physical experiences certainly is important, but I think it is also important to experience something new besides Aikido to stimulate one's thought and brain.

It is necessary to study basics things without being disturbed by one’s own mood and …feelings. The lesson method of Aikido is left to the decision of each instructor, and this is a good thing about Aikido. If strictly codified, the independence which is the merit of Aikido is lost.

Of course, balance is important, but I think it is better that one has a good level of skills, specifically posture, the sense of maai, directionality, the principle of the sword line, gaze and so on. It is often seen in enbu (martial art performance) that people just stand straight before a partner waiting for the attack. This is because there is no awareness of the sword line at all.

O-Sensei frequently talked about gravitation training. Gravitation training is for learning how to lead and go together with the partner’s movement. One can learn this using katatetori.

Such basics can be learned through body movements. In other words, the principle of Aikido skills will be understood through the apprehension of body movements. Small details of each technique are different, depending on the individuals, but there is always a sense of maai and directionality in any technique. Therefore, as long as there is an understanding of the principle of the skills, it can be applied to all movements.

That understanding is indispensable to progress to a further stage.

Aikido starts from the attack.

Aikido, in a technical sense, is an attack. One does not wait for the partner’s attack before doing a technique. One initiates it from oneself. For instance, the instructor holds out a hand when teaching katatetori. I don't stand still in front of a partner and wait for my hand to be grabbed. Instead, I hold out a hand and “let the student take it.” I am showing how to set it like that first. However, it is not generally explained that the nage is the one who shortens the maai to set up the situation to do the technique.

In the beginning, Aikido is taught in the way of self-defense techniques to help students understand it more easily. Nage reacts to the attack. If it remains at this stage, it would become a habit that one never starts moving unless being attacked.

To overcome this habit, it is necessary to know that nage should be the one who sets out first to do the techniques. Only then the depth of your understanding towards the techniques will change, even if one seems to be doing the same techniques.