2nd Kyu Essay

As I get closer to the end of the essays that I have already written, I can see the shifting and ripening of my perspective in Aikido and in my spiritual journey. Most of the challenges I encounter in Aikido have corollaries in my experiences with zazen. What is even more interesting is how understanding changes, from from "I don't get it" to "I get it", but from continuing to work with and refine an existing understanding.

this essay was written in June of 2006...

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Don’t Blink

My teacher once told me that Aikido is a martial art for marathon runners and not for sprinters. By my experience so far, this seems to be true. All the masters of Aikido or any art have worked at their craft for decades, elevating it to a level that goes beyond the ABC – 123 nature of the basic mechanics. I can also see it in my own technique. Although I could “do” Shiho Nage by the end of my second class, that feeling is not how it feels today and it is not how it will feel in 10 years.

Today’s world conditions us to want things instantly, and that can make this type of training difficult. But even if we accept that this training is a continuous process and that it will be many years before we reach a certain level, we can still be trapped. That distant level could become an excuse. It could lead us to act as though the training we do now is less valuable than the training we do when we are Nikyu, Shodan, Sandan, etc. This is ridiculous! What if we taught our children in this manner? What effect would it have if we started each kindergarten lesson by saying “you won’t really understand this for 10, 15, 20 years”? Before long many would stop trying, or feel inadequate

At my first seminar with Robert Mustard Sensei, he spoke about the natural power that comes from relaxing, using our whole body and keeping our center line power. He said “You don’t have to wait 30 years. You can get it next class”. I think I understand what he was saying. I also believe my teacher who said that Aikido is not for sprinters. These ideas do not contradict each other.

If we train as though nothing will happen until we are Shodan or Sandan, then we are neglecting the value of what we are doing now. We must be ravenous for the teachings, desperate to understand now, so that we are awake and receptive to insights that we may have, even if they are accidental. Much of this comes back to Shoshin (Beginner’s Mind). When we first begin, it is easy to keep this hunger, because everything is big and new and exciting. But what is more, beginners are not often deterred when they can’t do it. They want to try again. THIS determination must be deliberately cultivated as training and experience progress.

We enjoy Aikido or we would not be here. We want to get it. We want it to work. When we hit a plateau or are unable to repeat something done right our ego can get bruised. The bigger the ego, the bigger the bruise. “I SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO THIS! AAARRGHH!”. At that moment we are lost. Relax. Focus. Do it again. This is just # 11,264 out of a million repetitions we will do in our lifetime. Just let it come. Watch it closely. Be ready to see something.

3rd Kyu Essay

3rd Kyu was a very important test for me. In addition to doing the first precursor to freestyle, It marked a transition. Reaching brown belt really made me feel like I was in a long period of preparation for Shodan. There was an almost unavoidable sense of being goal oriented, as the Shodan test was such an important milestone in training. However, the period lasting from 3rd Kyu to Shodan is so long, it did become training, just to train. I found myself discovering and rediscovering my purpose in Aikido. This essay was written just as that settling was beginning.

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WHAT AM I DOING?

(Eyes on the Road)

My father was a very gentle and compassionate man. His perspective on violence had, by contrast, a character of finality. He had a number of stories about his time overseas in the Navy that illustrated this. He hated the idea of fighting in general, but I also remember him telling me that the only fair fight was the one where your opponent is unconscious and you can just walk away. I am certain that aspects of this influenced my interest in and the pursuit of the martial arts.

When I first saw Aikido, I was entranced by the power. The dynamic throws and the way uke seemed to writhe in pain when pinned. I wanted that power. Up to the point that I wrote this, my training has been focussed almost solely on the mechanics of the techniques. The more techniques that I could do, the more successful I felt. I hope this is changing.

Lemmon Sensei has always taught me that the principles of Aikido are the techniques themselves. As a result I have faithfully tried to develop my basic movements and apply them to my basic techniques. However, Mustard Sensei said something at his last visit to the Seikokan Dojo that helped me better understand the meaning behind Lemmon Sensei’s patient teachings. Mustard Sensei told us that the techniques we were practicing were not real. My first reaction was “Then what am I doing?”

One of the core messages Mustard Sensei was trying to teach us was that the techniques of Aikido are just tools to help us understand something. What? The easy answer is Aiki. The reason we practice the techniques is not to pin or throw and certainly not to hurt. It is to understand how to use our whole body as a coordinated unit. The goal is to establish a strong posture and move it while remaining in a strong position. We can then take uke to a place where their position is weak. As Mustard Sensei says, “We control uke with our posture”.

When we train, focussing on the end result of the technique, the pin or the throw, we are looking in the wrong place. We also tend to put our focus in the wrong place when we are uke. So often we resist shite or rush ahead, cheating him out of the feel. Worse yet, we sometimes fail to trust shite and focus only on protecting ourselves. Again, Mustard Sensei reminded us that “Uke’s job is to help shite understand the technique”. Uke must trust shite and give him their energy. I don’t think I really understood what that meant until this past summer when I had the chance to train with Mustard Sensei’s top student, Farshad. Through Farshad’s efforts as uke I could feel the appropriate positions and movements.

Our traditional understanding of power and martial contact says crush, resist, and destroy. Because of this we focus on the dynamic result of the throw or the pin. Mustard Sensei explained that this attitude is the work of the ego, and that ego blocks our path. If this is the case (and I believe it is) then answer is simple but difficult. My goal for the future is to become much less concerned about the end result of my techniques. Whether uke flies for me or not is not the issue. The relation of posture, distance, position and timing need to be my focus. If I understand my teachers correctly, getting these things right will ultimately bring me the desire result. (focus on the road, not the destination).

Now, if I can just figure out how to relax…

4th Kyu Essay

This essay has it's own preface. What I remember about this one however, is that it came at a time when I was been hit by the similarities of many of the teaching of budo.

the essay

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Stand in the Middle of a Teeter-Totter

Recently I attended a visitation for a young girl who had died in a car accident. Being a parent of two young girls, I found the experience particularly difficult. As I drove away from the funeral home, I became aware of a very strong appreciation for life that I am hit with immediately following such loss. It usually manifests as a deeper commitment to be a good father and husband. In that moment, I experienced a merging of two dualities, life and death. Duality is the great challenge in life. How do we reconcile life and death, strong and weak, hard and soft, or compassion and detachment?

In training, there are countless opportunities to encounter dualities. Hard and soft, or rather, tense and relaxed is a common one. Our goal is most definitely to be relaxed in our practice; but, with so much to be attentive to, this seems impossible. Robert Mustard Sensei noticed this in his past visits to our dojo, calling the lot of us a "bunch of gorillas". Showing some sympathy for this plight, Mustard Sensei also reminded us that without tense, we could never know relaxed. Although it was said in an almost off handed manner, that simple observation is the core teaching for anyone who seeks to study the way seriously.

In training, we will continually move between extremes. In our first attempts at Jiyu waza (freestyle) we will sometimes move too fast, and at other times not fast enough. As our pins develop we find a balance between a weak and ineffective pin and the arm wrenchers that test our training friendships. Most clearly we can see it in weapons practice. There it seems more difficult to get that correct distance. Close enough to breathe reality into the martial nature of the movement, but far enough to prevent injury. This interval is called Ma ai.

The translation of Ma ai is "proper distance". Ma means distance, and Ai means harmony. This is the same Ai as in Aikido (The way of harmony with energy). Harmony and balance seems to be the core goal of both budo and life. We want it now. That's our problem, fault, whatever.

What we must keep in mind is that we need to know and experience both sides before we can ever have harmony. Fast and slow, hard and soft, or life and death are all part of the same reality. We should not begrudge either, or we will never have Ai.

5th Kyu Essay

One of things I have seen come up over and over in my my study of Aikido are the stories about how different it is to train in Japan compared to North America. Some tales were of the "good old days" where people might have seemed to be more over the top than they tend to be today, but part of me eventually started to ask, "what is so special about over there?"

To answer it one way, they have some of the best teachers in the world, they beat in the very heart of the culture that gave birth to this art.

To answer it another way, they don't have anything special. In the end, I have to do my own breakfalls. The only Aikido I have is the Aikido I do. And although having a teacher that can point you in the right direct is invaluable, it is the individual that has to dive in and do the training. All they have is people. All we have is people. As one of those people, what will you bring to the mat?

The Essay...

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At the Yoshinkan Hombu Dojo in Japan, there lives an interesting group of people called Uchideshi. These live-in students are responsible for the care of the dojo and its instructors in addition to their own heavy training schedule. Soke Gozo Shioda called this living “Shugyo”, a devoted ascetic practice that required the student to be continually aware and attentive to the needs that arise. In the West, this style of training is rarely encountered. The training that some of us do in a week, the Uchideshi do in a morning. It would be great to train more, and we should, but the real challenge is to engage in Shugyo in the life we have. In a nonresidential dojo this would be much harder: harder, not impossible.

The nature of Shugyo is care. It is about taking care of our self, our partners, our instructors and our dojo. This is a training that we have to set about with deliberate effort. Much of society teaches us to only take care of ourselves. There is certain need for that mentality, but it does not entirely work in Aikido. We can't do Aikido by ourselves. Not only do others need to be there, but we need to connect with them. Aikido comes from those connections. When there is a pull, enter. When there is a push, pivot. When there is a need, meet it.

In a nonresidential dojo, there are fewer needs to meet, but they are still there. What can we do? Well, we can sweep the mats, straighten the buki racks, fold Sensei's Hakama, dust, work with a junior, help others train after class, carry Sensei's bag, help lock up, run to our spot, pay close attention, sit still, and be a good Uke, just to name a few. Many of these are practical needs and basic courtesy, but when fully engaged they are Shugyo. Through this type of training we develop a more complete connection to everything around us.

Going through the motions doesn’t do it (someone recently told me that it is possible to die stupid). It’s not about training everyday, its about training now. Take this time and really enter it. Milk it for all that it is worth. Ever moment is full of opportunities for training.

6th Kyu Essay

There were 2 things that inspired this particular essay. First, I had a chance to do some basic introductory Kyudo practice in Toledo during this time. If I recall correctly, the 7 defilements were part of the meditative teachings of the art in the Zen tradition. The other inspiration was

kote gaeshi. What made this technique difficult was the breakfall we used with it. I could do #3 breakfalls, but this technique takes away uke's lead hand. At the time, it fealt like a supreme act of bravery to leap into the air, rotating around that arm. Clearly, I surived.

The essay...

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Heart of Iron

Can we be truly receptive to what this moment offers?

The nature of this practice is such that we will encounter barriers. Early on most of these barriers are physical. Break falls, pivots, Nikajo, hand positions; there is a lot to be attentive to. As we encounter these barriers, many seem impossible. If we continue to train, we soon see that we continually pass through these impassable barriers as though walking down the street. However, if we think that this is purely a physical pursuit, we may be blind to other obstacles. The obstacles that emerge in our minds are often more disastrous because they steal us away from training, from countless opportunities to grow. If we do not deal with these obstacles, an invisible ceiling will eventually block our growth.

Given the physical nature of the martial arts, it is natural to try to see all obstacles as physical puzzles. However, it is here that the meditative nature of the martial arts tends to emerge. This is made very clear in the study of Kyudo (archery). This practice is sometimes practiced, even by experienced practitioners, at less than one bow’s length from the target. So if the shooter can’t miss, then the question must be asked, what is being accomplished? Primarily, the archer is studying him or her self. Within the practice they identify seven defilements (reactions) which unsettle the mind. These are: excessive happiness, anger, anxiety, thinking, depression, fear, and surprise.

In Aikido, it is obvious how fear, anxiety, and anger twist our mind away from the moment of training. Holding back from a difficult break fall or wasting our time in worry about working with a difficult technique (or person) steal our attention away from the moment of training. Less obvious, but still reasonable to the average student, is how depression or thinking block our way. When we are depressed about something inside or outside the dojo, not only are we distracted, but we feel completely helpless to resolve the situation. If we over think our practice, we may become obsessed with mechanics and lose the importance of feeling in understanding a technique. Perhaps in thinking too much we are thinking ahead to the next test and end up unable to focus on the training of the moment. These poisons are fairly clear, but how can happiness or surprise limit our development?

We are clearly happy with this practice, or we would not be here. However, what we eventually come to see is that this practice is fluid, and constantly developing. IF we are over elated by some success, we can become stuck in that moment, missing the chance to flow forward. When we are surprised we again step out of the flow. As Sh’te or Uke surprise can cause us to freeze in the middle of a technique or new situation.

These obstacles to the mind are difficult to deal with. Our fear, anger or happiness seem logical and justified. But however we rationalize these reactions, they continue to steal away the moment. In falling into these traps, we allow our mind to be moved. We generate this problem ourselves, and thus it is truly a gateless gate.

How then should we enter this training? We should definitely pay attention to what we are doing. But beyond that, we should be attentive to our state of mind and how we react during training. We should not criticize ourselves when we our mind falters. Doing this is just another form of the distraction. We should simply notice that our mind is off, and bring it back on track. Through this type of training, our own immovable mind will develop and refine just as our technique does. If the mind goes off center, the body will follow. When the mind is limited, so are the possibilities of reacting spontaneously to the moment. When the mind is in the center, tethered, the body and spirit can flow around it like a hurricane. Great flourishes of activity, anchored in the center.

7th Kyu Essay: Taking the Wheel.

Many of my early essays grew out of something that I specifically noticed in the dojo, and then extrapolated to everyday life. This one went the other way. It came up at a time where I was becoming very frustrate with how work kept making me angry. A variety of sources were quickly put forth by the universe to remind me that anger, and all my reactions originate from within.

Here is what came up.

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Taking the Wheel

There is a great contradiction in our society and in our lives. While many people seek power and control over the world around them, they are victims within their own lives. It is very easy to see the desire for power and control. People may want wealth, status, or just to be the alpha male/female in their own circles. In one form or another they seek to control the people and situations in the universe outside their body. Ultimately, they fail. However, this failure does not deter them from trying again and again to control and direct the universe.

Meanwhile, as they rush about trying to control others, they are achieving the opposite. They allow others control their lives moment to moment. They have created a world for themselves in which everything that happens to them (usually the bad stuff) is the result of another person’s actions. They cannot escape this deluded cycle. In our society as a whole, this way of thinking is an accepted norm. “He made me angry” or “They screwed up my entire day” are familiar phrases in our lives. In these events however, there are two things happening; the actions of that other person and our reaction. So how can we stop this? We certainly can not stop the other person from doing angering things. There are far too many other people and too many potentially angering actions (do we really think we can make everyone act the way we want them too?). There is only one place left to find the answer and that is within ourselves.

We have done a lot of work in our society to condition ourselves as victims. We refuse to take responsibility for our lives (“He made me angry”). In fact we cherish the anger. We rationalize that since that person did some horrible thing to us, we are entitled to be angry. We completely miss the source of the anger. We completely ignore the damage the anger does to us because we have convinced ourselves the anger should be there.

If we realize that the anger comes from our own hearts and minds, and not from outside, then we can take responsibility for it. Did that guy still do the horrible thing? Yes. What then is different? By taking responsibility for our thoughts, reactions and anger, we empower our lives. We can, at that point, act to improve or resolve the problem. We don’t change the dumb thing our buddy did, but rather the problem our mind turned it into. When we blame others, we become helpless to do anything about the situation because we see the problem as being outside of ourselves. We know deep down that we cannot control those things outside of ourselves.

Cut through the conditioning. Cut through the rationalizations. Cut through the victimized perception. Realize the power that we have to act within our own lives and minds. Stop making our happiness dependent on the conditions of the external universe. Seek out your own mind and work from there.

8th Kyu Essay

When I began Aikido, I was trying in earnest to see the connection between the physical training of the art and the many interactions in my daily life. I tried to understand each person I met in the same way I was trying to understand my connection to my training partner.

During the essay, I make the statement that there must be more settings to our compassion than on and off. I see it differently now. My current understanding has compassion in a permanent "on" state. However, the source of that resonance is different for me now. I am not sure I can explain it at this time. Anyway, this is what came out.

The Essay...

originally submitted in August of 2004

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Compassion

Is sympathy the same as compassion? Does it mean having a bleeding heart? With all the horrible things that happen each day, compassion means being aware that the people we encounter are affected by AIDS, rape, poverty, violence, hunger, hatred and all the various carriers of misery. It means being ready and accepting of those you meet in life that have been affected somehow by these many miseries.

In this day, our society is greatly desensitized to suffering. We have a reactive compassion. This is why it takes terrorist bombings in our own hemisphere, murders in our own town or disease in our own family to touch that sense of compassion. We react. Sometimes we pour ourselves into that situation, seeking to heal those wounds. Sometimes we stand helpless in the middle of our own fear and frustration. Then, as time

widens our distance from the event, and the vivid experience fades into memory, we

eventually return to the numb awareness of our daily lives. In this way, in many ways, we are not truly in touch with compassion.

Compassion is not a light switch. There are more settings than ON and OFF. What if we could maintain that contact with compassion? Not just when Uke is pulling, but when he is pushing. If we can engage this life; if we can engage this universe, then we can touch everywhere. When the universe pushes, we pivot and direct our energy into the universe. When it pulls, we can move in kind. When we stand off from the universe, the push rushes towards us and hits us like a freight train.

As you close with this universe, all becomes one in you. It does not require everyone on the planet to do the same. You transform the world from the ground on which you stand. This liberates us within the misery of the universe. Bombs will still explode, diseases will still weaken us, and babies will still die.

So what changes? The way in which we react is what changes.

How will we respond to this marvelous life? Will we blend with the flow of life, or will we let it hit us like a freight train? How will we engage the universe around us? Hopefully, we can learn to engage it with a continuous, ceaseless compassion.

Push, pivot. Pull, blend.

No gaps.