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.

Strike a Woman, Strike a Rock

August 9 is National Women's Day in South Africa. It is a day to celebrate the contribution to the struggle against apartheid made by many selfless women both in South Africa and in exile. It is also a day to remember the current struggle of women in this country to be accepted as equal to their male counterparts.

On the tatami, men and women train together. In aikido we are constantly reminded to consider the capacity of our partner – regardless of whether they are male or female. Our practice is really learning to accept uke for what he or she brings to the technique. We block our own learning when we train differently depending on whether uke is a man or a woman, and make assumptions about their capacity based on our own firmly held stereotypes and projections.

Valerie A Pinto, a Yoshukai karate teacher talks of how she, as a woman "coming up though the ranks as the only woman in our school, I had to work twice as hard as the men to be accepted by them. To actually earn their respect was even harder. I didn't have the power and strength most of them had, so I depended more on speed, agility and striking with precision. "

After years of training women survivors of rape and assault self-defence (a combination of karate, aikido and hapkido) she is still amazed by the reaction of her women students who say "you are not what I expected....". She maintains that "First I am a woman; as a very close second I am a martial artist.... I feel as women we need to be proud of who and what we are, and to let other women know that we are not different or special and that they can join us and, as women, help us share the power...."

Finally, a poem by Valerie Pinto, inspired by her students:

Are we Women

frail and afraid
protected from this cruel world
by the men we love

What happens to us
when the love is gone
when our father dies, our brother rapes us
our lover would rather hit than hug
who will protect us now?

We are Women
in our women's bodies
never educated in the aggressive and physical
world of men

But we are not frail
we are not weak
we have a great inner spirit
and we will not be afraid

If we learn to use our strengths
against the weaknesses of our oppressors
as David slew Goliath
we can change the balance of power
internally and in the world around us

We must become one
with our body, mind and spirit
We must learn to defend ourselves
and love ourselves

We're our only protection
against this angry world
and as sisters we must spread
the word and skills
we must spread the power

We walk together or alone
aware and unafraid

--Valerie A Pinto

(taken from "The Joy of Sharing the Power" by Valerie A Pinto in Martial Arts Teachers on Teaching by Carol A Wiley)

A Hidden Jewel

Each friend represents a world in us,

a world possibly not born until they arrive, and

it is only by this meeting that a new world is born

Anais Nin

The people who cross our paths, and especially those who linger for a while, touch our lives and help us see possibilities within ourselves to which we would otherwise be blind. They challenge us to be more than we think we can be. Sometimes they do so by pushing buttons that evoke a painful or angry response; other times they illuminate the spark of kindness, of goodness, of love that burns inside all of us. The wealthy driver of that big 4x4 from the leafy suburbs helps us confront our envy; the grubby homeless person offers us an opportunity to demonstrate our compassion and kindness. All of the people we meet have something to share with us – our friends have much to teach us; our enemies even more. How often do we not feel that the person to whom we are attracted fulfils us, makes us complete – that speaks to a quality that we feel is missing inside us. Very often it is the people with whom we differ, or argue, or dislike that have the most to teach us for oftentimes they hold up a mirror to us about those things within us we dislike or despise. So every person that crosses our path, is there for a reason. He or she touches our life and in how we relate to him/her helps to reveal us to ourselves.

So too on the tatami. In the training hall, you will come across many different people. Your partner is an individual who may share some similarities with you but who nonetheless has a different background to you, different physical abilities and even a different motivation for doing aikido. Some will be tall, others short; some will be strong and muscular, others frail or waif-like. For many reasons we may prefer to work with some people – often that is because we feel we know how they will move, so that the movement is "nice" and smooth. We may avoid others because they are "too rough" or "too stiff".

Every uke is precious. Every uke has something to show you about your technique. It is up to you to look for it. Does this uke jump beautifully into a perfect ukemi before you have executed the technique? Well then perhaps there's something to adjust in your timing or your telegraphing to him/her what you are about to do. Do you find that this uke is able to lock out against your technique? Rather than blaming uke for the technique not working, ask instead whether there is something in how you are executing the technique that allows that blocking to occur: Have you interrupted the flow of the technique? Are you too square when the movement is circular? Have you led uke into a place where his/her weight is bearing down on you and you cannot move?

And the main lesson to be learned from that interaction is "How do I choose to respond?" Do I give in to my frustration that my attempts at technique are failing and react with violence? Do I shout at uke for resisting when he should be flowing? Or do I feel where I need to soften, inside me, soften enough to flow around the obstacle and in doing so free myself of what is holding me back. On the physical level that may be uke, inside me it could be my need to prove myself, or my inability to listen to what the other person is telling me.

Every uke is a precious gift, because he or she has willingly come to you to help you refine your technique, and yourself.

Honour that gift in return by being a good uke to them.

See you on the tatami soon,

SenseiGG

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

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.