O-Soji

Tonight is O-Soji at our dojo.  In the Japanese tradition, O-Soji is very much like spring cleaning, except that we do it as part of an end of year celebration.  We gather together in our dogi's and clean the dojo.  We wash the mats, dust, organize and generally do a "Big Clean up" (o-soji).  Following that effort we have a short but intense class, that in the past has included combinations of, 365 shomen giri with bokken, 365 back breakfalls, and even some hajime training.  The actual content varies, but the intent remains the same;  to burn off what remains of the year's energy.  Following the class there is a party on the mat with food and friends.  Together we celebrate the completion of a another successful training year.

One of the things I really like about O-Soji is that people often come out of the woodwork for this.  We get to see people who don't train on the same schedule as us or who have been away for some time.  It is a wonderful experience.

After O-Soji the dojo is closed until the new year.  We have a chance to rest and gather our intensions and resolutions for the new training year.  Please set some, whether your dojo observes O-Soji or not.  Goals can change, and being able to embrace or release as needed is very important, but intention focusses effort. During the week off, I will be setting my own, which I promise to list publicly.  That is another useful practice in setting intention.  For something like Aikido training goals, share them with someone who cares.  I don't know that that practice should be applied to all intentions, but here it seems useful.

One of the traditions associated with O-Soji is that of ending and beginning well.  We make sure to be at O-Soji because it is the last class fo the year.  We also make a great effort to attend the first class of the year.  In between, we do our best.

I hope this year has been good for you.  I hope it challenged you.  I hope you grew.  I hope, when the moment comes, that you are ready to let it go and embrace the new year.

Gambate!

Stages

This past weekend I tested for the rank of Nidan (second degree black belt) in Yoshinkan Aikido.  I did well, but it will be a few weeks before the official word returns from Japan.  As I continue to absorb the experience and what it means, I find myself reflecting on, and coming to better understanding the structure of the Yoshinkan ranking system. 

Although most dojos in North America use a system of coloured belts prior to the black belt, in Japan there are only 3 colours:  white, brown and black.  As one story goes, the belt (or obi) was the one part of the uniform that was not supposed to be washed.  In arts of the Way (those ending in "do") uniforms are traditionally white, as are the belts that came with it.  Naturally, over time the obi would darken with sweat and dirt, until it was essentially a "black belt". 

In Japanese Yoshinkan Dojos, students wear a white belt from 10th kyu through to 4th kyu.  In this stage, the beginner is learning many new things.  Effort is deliberate and mechanical.  Focus is on the placement of hands and feet and how to engage uke.  There are a lot of new things to learn at this stage.

From 3rd kyu to 1st kyu, the student wears a brown belt.  At this stage they have seen just about everything once, and have a solid, although basic grasp of form for both shite and uke.  Although each rank and test has its own complete set of challenges, there is a sense that the brown belt is in preparation for their Shodan test.  Things that are known get refined.  Effort becomes less mechanical as the Aikidoka begins to understand their connection to uke through feeling and experience.

The test for Shodan can be described as a demonstration that the individual has reached this point.  They have all the ingredients that the master spends a lifetime refining.  Here we could say that there is a shift from student to apprentice, or if it is a better analogy, from apprenctice to journeyman. 

Once Shodan is acheived, the belt can't get any darker.  However, those who have experienced these arts understand that this is not the mark of the end.  From Shodan onward, there is refinement.  A simple enough word, but it points to an on going development.  The student not only knows, but has experienced that there are different levels of knowing.

• fine mechanical details
• patience
• the importance of steeping and fementing both knowledge and experience
• manifesting both fluidity and form
• the awareness of how the art is both received and passed on 
• manifesting both the compassionate and martial minds

These are some of the major points of practice for me these days.  And if I truly have reached the standard for Nidan in Yoshinkan Aikido, I recognize that I feel as far from Sandan now as I felt from Shodan on the day I began to study this art.

Nidan Preparations

On November 6 (3 weeks from now) I will be testing for the rank of Nidan in Yoshinkan Aikido.  Although the next few weeks will involved some very focused and important training, as I clarify the finer points of some more advanced techniques, I feel confident that I will go into the test well prepared.  I should, considering I have preparing for this test for six and a half years.

I began training in Yoshinkan Aikdio on April 3rd, 2004, under Mark Lemmon Sensei who is still my teacher.  I can even remember the first technique that I learned:  Katate Mochi Nikajo Osae Ni.  Along the way there have been many challenges and barriers through which I had to pass.  Learning break falls, my kyu tests, Kenshu, and my Shodan test were all pinnacle achievements at the moment they occurred.  In the larger picture however, all of these gates, including my pending Nidan test are just part of a long unfolding study of a particular tradition and martial practice.

What is striking about this test however, is that I do not feel the same level of anxiety that accompanied previous tests.  There is definitely an intensity to the matter, but there has been a shift in my perception of the situation that I can not quite put into words.  What I can identify as an influence in this feeling is my approach to training and test practice, and this is no small part of how I feel as I approach my Nidan test.

When I was a junior student at the dojo, I wanted desperately to do well.  As I watched my seniors go through the tests that were ahead of me, I noticed that there were common difficulties encountered by the majority of students at each level.  From this I made a conscious decision to study their difficulties and attempt to make them into my strengths.  This did not come from a sense of  wanting to out do my classmates, but from wanting to perfect my art.

To my juniors I offer the major points that I have found useful in terms of testing...

• Do not wait until the dojo is in a test practice period to start learning the techniques you need to know.  Look at your next test right way and ask a teacher or senior to help you before and after class.  If Sensei asks for technique requests in class, speak up.
• Work and think in Japanese from the start.  Although we translate technique names into English to help teach junior students and help explain certain concepts, all names are just labels that describe a certain way of moving and connecting with Uke.  As quickly as possible, you want to get to the point when you can hear the word kotegaeshi and before you can think reverse hand you can touch or envision the movements and connections associated with that technique.  In short, when the time comes for your tests to be in Japanese, you want to language to be as second nature as bowing.  (Heck, many dojos don`t even bother translating into English).
• Work on something outside of class time every week.  There are buki waza and toshu waza that we don`t get around to very often, so it may take some additional effort to keep them active in your practice.
• As you advance, look for opportunities to be someone else Uke when you are not eligible to test.  When you engage in the process of testing, even when it is for someone else, you grow.
• Show up for test practice.  It is not uncommon to see people reduce their training in test practice when they are not eligible for the upcoming test.  This is very unfortunate.  We engage in test practice for two weeks, every two months.  This means that we spend one quarter of our training year in test practice.  This time is significant.  This is the time to turn up the heat on our own training. 

There is much to be done over the next few weeks.  It is of no greater or lesser importance than the work of the new student preparing for their 9th kyu test.  They too are preparing for Nidan.  They just might not see it yet.

Energy and Joy

In Aikido, we pay a lot of attention to energy, or Ki.  Aikido translates as "the way of harmony with Ki".  In the physical art, this principle is easy to see.  The external force of Ki is evident in an attack.  With time and training, the internal Ki is also evident.  In connecting with our partner in training, we can develop the sensitivity to capture their mind, feeling or intention.  It is nothing particularly mystical, but it is sometimes expressed in those words.  

Just as each person has Ki, so too does the collective that they are a part of.  They contribute their energy, mind and spirit to their family, workplace, team and dojo.  As the Seikokan dojo continues to grow and develop under Sensei Lemmon's teaching, its Ki grows and changes as well.

The Ki of a dojo can be felt in the intensity of warm ups.  It can be felt in the silent gaze of those who come to watch us test.  In the group practice of senior students, it flows like a raging river.  In the group practice of new students, it flows with the patience and gentility of a stream in the woods.

This weekend, I will be attending the Shodan test of a kind friend and training partner.  It has been very exciting, not only to watch him in his preparations, but to see the Ki of the dojo ramp up in anticipation of this event.  There is great hope and joy being directed towards my friend, and it is a wonderful thing to see.  Sensei Lemmon has always said that it is important to come out and show support for those who are testing.  Although the struggle has been his, the effect that the process has had on the entire dojo community is evident.  There is a lot of joy and energy.

Gambateh Rob-san.

Forged in Fire

There are many challenging moments in a human life.  Dealing with death, conflict, parenting, and driving tests are a familiar few.  It seems that we never know just what we are capable of until we encounter some form of crisis or challenge.  In the culture of the Aikido Dojo, test practice provides this type of challenge.  When the opportunity to test arises, there is an interesting mixture of excitement and fear for those who greet that challenge.  Often, individuals resonate with one feeling more than the other, but a certain amount of fear and excitement is natural, in fact, they often blend together.

In this time we put our effort into the fine detail of our art, with a laser-like focus.  The heat is turned up on our training.  There is an enormous amount of growth that occurs at this time.

At our dojo, we have a test every two months.  At the beginning of training, students have the possibility of testing every time the period comes up.  As they advance in rank, the required time mandates that they wait longer.  This marks a beautiful new stage in training.  Where early on, the student makes great gains by ingesting large volumes of information and developing basic proficiency in a number of skills, there comes a time when time is most needed for growth.  Ripening can not be rushed, and although the extra waiting may not be appreciated by the eager junior student, it is absolutely critical for continued growth and development.

In one way, the test is a test.  Failing is an option, and a very real one if there has not been enough practice and development.  When the student is successful, the test becomes more of a demonstration of what has already been achieved or realized.  At the higher ranks, there is also a very real sense of growing into a rank after a successful test and promotion.

This can also be a time to cultivate the sempai / kohai relationship.  When our own test is not imminent, test practice allows us to help our juniors.  Having to check and explain a technique is a valuable tool for refining our own understanding.  However, sometimes test practice is a time when the ranks of the dojo thin.  Those who are not eligible for the upcoming test sometimes fade into the woodwork.  Taking care of the business of our lives is very important.  If we fail to take care of work and family, our training can become a stress on our lives, or even an impossibility.  When I observe this drop in attendance however, my concern is that we are prioritizing regular keiko over test practice.  Holding either type of training in priority over the other fails to recognize the distinct value found in each.

At our dojo, we spend approximately one quarter of the year in test practice.  This type of training should not be trivialized.  May the bumps on the road you travel make you a better driver.

All in the family

Both of my daughters have recently started taking Aikido.  It is a lot of fun to do this with them.  However, as an assistant in the class, I find that we all have a better experience when I stay way from them during the actual class.  There is something difficult about having Daddy as a teacher.  They respond to me as Daddy, rather than as a teacher.

Soon they will be testing for their first belt.  I look forward to posting a family picture in which everyone holds a rank.  (my wife is 8th kyu).

Work Where You Are

We spend a lot of our lives trying to get somewhere. We imagine that there is some end to the to-do list. This seems like a simple mistake, but it is a costly one. When I started Aikido training, Shodan was at the end of the list. When I reached Shodan, there was Nidan; the new end of the list. When I started Zen practice, I had a huge list of things that had to happen before my practice became authentic: sit 20 minutes, sit every day, do retreats, have a meditation room.

Both situations contain the same fundamental error. Teaching Aikido to beginners and children, I am coming to see that every stage of practice is complete on its own (something that was easier to see in Zen practice). Each stage has its own challenges and difficulties. Doing that first roll is no less daunting for the white belt than doing that first freestyle is for the senior student. Each level requires its own set of skills, but the deeper solution always goes back to the same place. Posture, balance, and timing. It's one of the things I really like about Aikido, is that we all train together, encountering these challenges right where we are.

The development of my Zen practice has had a similar character, but it has been harder to see at times. The more rooted the practice becomes in my life, the easier it is to see the practice outside of the meditation room. With that expansion, a universe of challenges arises. All the bumps that I encounter in the day are seen as things about myself that I am sticking to. This makes for some brutally honest work. In the end, it too sends me back to the basics; Zazen.

Analogies are tricky things. They may seem brilliant at the time, but they are inherently limited. If I have to offer an analogy in place of the to-do list, it would be doing laundry. It does not end. The washing is complete and perfect, just like the drying, folding and putting away. How we approach it will determine if it is a chore or the natural, beautiful function of our daily lives.

Osu & Gassho

Fit the container

Recently, I have had an opportunity to take on some teaching responsibilities in my dojo. It has been a great practice, and I am still trying to figure out what "Sensei Rob's" style of teaching is like. However, what I am really enjoying is the practice of being a teacher and a student.

When I worked with the army cadets in my town, it was always interesting to watch the young bys and girls start to take on leadership roles. The very often reinvented themselves as a "leader", and in the process lost some of the skills and adaptivity that made them good followers. This is what is coming up for me in my practice these days.

Being able to switch from leader to followr or from teacher to student and back is not just a nifty parlour trick. It says a lot about where our mind is at. In fact, there is no switch. What I have come to find is that it simply a maturity that is free of ego and ready to enter the situation without pause. Characteristic of mind tells a good teacher it is time to move on to the next thing, is the smae charateristic that tells the student to grab Sensei's hakama and fold it. It is an action without gap.

Water takes on the shape of the container it is in. It fills the space and moment in the most appropriate way.

Do we?