As we train, to do we live

Back in July 2019, I wrote about how the techniques we practice in Aikido can be thought of as ways to practice the basic "principles" of Aikido.  Sounds so obvious when I say it that way.  But it's not so apparent when you're actually doing it.

Especially as a beginner, the basic mechanics and choreography of the movements can be so unfamiliar and overwhelming that the real magic of Aikido remains completely inaccessible for years.  I imagine it's a little like playing scales on the guitar for years and years. Eventually, some day, they just become a part of us, until one day we can see what's behind them. The scales seems to drop away and the music can come out more naturally.  I think O'Sensei referred to this as "no technique."  I think Bruce Lee spoke of a version of this as well.

Anyway, in yesterday's class, it occurred to me that different people probably prefer certain principles over others.  This might be due to their previous training, or their temperament, or their body type. Sometime prefer flowing techniques with a lot of motion. Some lean towards smaller, more direct movements.

Preferred movements can change with each different Uke, as well -- or different attacks from the same Uke.  Sometimes entering (Irimi) is more natural; sometimes turning (Tenkan); usually a combination of both.  But I'm getting distracted.

The real "ah ha" moment yesterday was that the basic principles of Aikido and our preferences for them probably pervade our lives in a broader, more general sense, as well. This came to me when training with someone in class who tends to be very intense in everything he does.  He seems to always go deep. "Go big, or go home" seems to be his mantra. The overriding principle he lives with is Irimi -- to enter. 

Me? I probably tend to more of a Tenkan kind of guy. I could probably do with a little more Irimi.

Nidan begins

 Covid pretty much put the kibosh on my own training for a year or so. Others at our dojo continued to train diligently -- in a touchless, safe-distance, sort of way that I simply couldn't get motivated for. I have great respect for those who did.

After my hiatus, it's been hard to make getting on the mat a regular habit again. Other things have usurped those time slots. It's a good problem to have -- so many wonderful choices to make.

Finally, recently, even as I was just getting back to it again, I injured myself in the weight room. In a wonderful moment of mindlessness and situational UNawareness, I dropped a 45-lb barbell plate on my big toe, crushing the tip. Yes, ouch. 

I debated posting pictures. But the X-ray really doesn't do it justice, and the full-color image is just plain nasty.

I'm only now back to normal again.  Sort of. The toe may never shrink completely back to its original size, and may never lose the partially blackened toenail. I tried wearing little training booties my first session back but they didn't stay on. I'm now thinking I'll just resort to painting all my toenails black, thus not subjecting my fellow Aikidoka to the ugliness of my lingering injury. My other toenails weren't all that pretty to begin with.

In any case, I'm back on the mat.  Before the injury, I had already begun thinking about how it's perhaps time to start training in earnest for Nidan. I feel I need a goal. On the one hand, I'll never really feel ready.  But on the other hand, objectively speaking, it seems time. 

Independently and unsolicited, my Sensei recently reached out to me and confirmed my own instinct. Well, there it is.

So. As far as I'm concerned, my Nidan training has officially begun. Sensei said I should test "at the next test."  I'm not sure when that is, but I'm in no real hurry. I'll test when I feel almost ready. (I believe the right time to do almost anything is when you're "almost" ready).

I think I'm also going to post regularly on insights I get from class, or about class, or outside of class in an Aikido context.  

As it happens, we started a new session this week.

For those of you who don't know our Dojo (Roanoke Budo Kai), we train at two different Parks and Rec locations, and these facilities have a regular schedule of classes that repeats like "semesters."  Our dojo has developed a syllabus of sorts that repeats anew each semester.

Our first class is always dedicated to chokes. So let me start there.

I hate choke class. I've made it pretty clear. I hate it because it's not much fun, it really doesn't use a lot of Aikido principles, it's untraditional, and it's really all about self-defense (which is not why I, personally, do Aikido). I also feel like the first few classes of a new semester should do things that encourage students to come back -- attrition is SO high for new students in the first few weeks of Aikido. I don't think choke class does that.

However... we did have a very open and frank conversation about it before class. I made it clear how I felt, but I also made it clear that there are other things that I DO like that would also turn certain new students off (like Ukemi). I understand completely that it's different for everyone. 

I did get one new perspective during the conversation... Goodbar Sensei pointed out that one of the very reasons I don't like choke class -- especially at the start -- is exactly why we do it: because you really don't have to know a lot of Aikido principles to get something out of it. I hadn't looked at it that way before.

And with that in mind, we engaged in a class that, as it turns out, actually didn't have any brand-new students, so Sensei allowed us to go past the day-one basics to the "next now" kind of training.  And, wouldn't you know it... I learned a few things.  LOL.

I wrote my notes on the whiteboard in the room:

I'm going to go through each of these...

Inside Blend

At our dojo, most of our blends have typically been "outside" blends. That is, the blend results in Nage standing beside Uke, usually pretty much hip to hip -- maneuvering outside the attack.  For instance, if Uke attacks with a right-handed Shomen-uchi (overhead strike) or Men-Tsuki (high punch), Nage will enter and turn to his/her right and end up next to Uke's right hip, in a mirror-image.

The same attack met with an inside blend would have Nage blending by stepping off-line to the right, in front of Uke, while taking their balance (Kuzushi) that way.

At the other dojos I've trained at, inside blends were more common. I'm SO happy that this blend has been introduced (perhaps re-introduced) at our Dojo. It's an option that needs to be explored.  

It also happens to suit my personal style rather well. Probably because I'm rather tall, I prefer larger, open movements over tighter, in-close ones. 

Heissenberg

This was just a reference to a comment I made to something that Goodbar Sensei was stressing on this particular day -- that the observer affects the experiment.  As we train, each action/reaction creates the "next now" (Sensei's words) that we need to be aware of, moment to moment.

Scissors

Sensei pointed out that when you try to cut something with scissors -- especially something tricky like cellophane -- there needs to be some tension in the stuff you're cutting or the scissors won't work. This is an analogy that can be used in Aikido. We need to strive for the right amount of "tension" in the system (Uke and Nage) so that the techniques will work. Too stiff, and it won't cut -- at least not with scissors. Too limp, and it won't cut because the material just lips between the blades.

Yokomenuchi Sumiotoshi

I got to work with Brielle Sensei (a.k.a. "AK"). We was experimenting with Yokomenuchi Sumiotoshi, and having fun with a different way of capturing the momentum of the attack. Seems that often we teach the attack with a lot of irimi (entering), and, in on this day he was enjoying how more tenkan (turning) can really work wonders. In fact, it really feels like entering to the rear. Said that way, it shouldn't be so surprising. 

It was just worth noting for me because it's fun to realize that even folks who have been training as long as AK has can find something largely "brand new" in a technique they've been doing for decades.

Nervous System

Sensei made a comment that stuck when he said "you're not just dealing with a physical body [or even a brain].  You're dealing with a nervous system."  We were having fun with distraction techniques as silly as a poke in the ribs, or even a tickle.  Anything to take the attacker's mind off their attack so that the situation can be controlled from another perspective.

I find this concept particularly interesting in the sense that it applies outside the physical practice of Aikido, to the idea of having better conversations.  More on that soon, when I develop my ideas about how Aikido is a beautiful metaphor for the study of conversation.

Thumb on Reverse Kote-Gaeshi

This was just a little physical detail of how I found something that works for me doing this technique. Again, I was working with AK -- who is very physically strong, and has really large hands. I consistently found myself in the position during this reverse wrist-technique where I felt my own hand was at a physical disadvantage -- particularly putting my own thumb at risk. After some experimenting, I realized that if I tuck my thumb and focus more on the two fingers of my had that are holding the meat of Uke's hand on the thumb side of his hand, then I have lots more control and I don't put my own thumb in danger.

I'm sure there's that this explanation means very little to anybody but me. Hopefully what I've written is enough to remind of of it, so that I can remember it and show it to people I'm working with.

There you have it. Notes for the day.

The Science Behind Aikido

I just read a great article, sent to me by my long-time friend, Wayne. Wayne is really smart. I really value what Wayne says. And yet Wayne and I disagree a lot. So much so that, over the years, I don't even open most of his emails because the subject line seems so biased. 

I've been focusing my energy these days on trying to change the way we have conversations (see understandingonpurpose.com), so sometimes I crack my neck and remind myself that Wayne's thoughts are a rich source of training material. I mean, if I can't change the conversation with a long-time friend, what chance do I have with relative strangers?

So. Wayne sent me this article.

I've said it before. The reason I train in Aikido is because, if I took the way I see conflict (ideally) and put it into a dance, it would look like Aikido. Almost everything in the physical dance of Aikido is analogous to something in the verbal dance of a conversation -- particularly debate, or argument.

So. A line in the article hit me in the face: 

I loved this, because I've often taught that our relationship to our Uke in Aikido is a "frame" -- I usually use this language when working with dancers, because they immediately get it. 

It goes even deeper. The scientific study referenced in the article drew a conclusion:

To those of us who study Aikido, this sounds a lot like "blending" with an attack (as opposed to blocking it). 

Read the article.  In fact, check out understandingonpurpose.com for similar stuff.

See you on the mat.

Onagaishimasu.

The Obstacle is the Way

"While it's true that someone can impede our actions, they can't impede our intentions and our attitudes, which have the power of being conditional and adaptable. For the mind adapts and converts any obstacle to its action into a means of achieving it. That which is an impediment to action is turned to advance action. The obstacle on the path becomes the way."  -- Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 5.20

So, it seems that Marcus Aurelius was studying Aikido 2000 years before O'Sensei, and didn't even know it.  :-)

Coronavirus -- what I'm seeing

I'm posting this on my Aikido blog because Covid-19 is keeping me off the mat.

People use numbers to tell the story they want to tell.  The President does it, and people who don't like the President do it.  The numbers "we" use are "the whole story," while the number the "other side" uses are "fake news" or "misleading."

I don't like the President.  Whatever. But whether a statistic about Coronavirus makes him look good or look bad is none of my concern.  Frankly, unless you're his campaign manager, it shouldn't be yours.

More Corona testing is good, because the more we know, the better.  The US seems to be doing reasonably well compared to other countries.  

https://ourworldindata.org/grapher/full-list-cumulative-total-tests-per-thousand

The President uses "more testing" to downplay when an increase in cases makes him look bad. The President's detractors tend to use it to indicate things are getting worse -- which, BTW, they are -- but not just because of "more cases."

The President likes to point out that we have a lower death rate than a lot of other countries -- which is true (~3.3%). 

https://www.statista.com/statistics/1105914/coronavirus-death-rates-worldwide/

But the death rate factors in the number of cases.  So, for this argument, more cases makes the President look better, not worse. This morning I saw the President talk about "comparatively fewer deaths" -- which is incorrect. We have comparatively more deaths (in part because we have a larger country). But he was implying a death rate.  "Number of deaths" and "death rate" are different statistics that are used interchangeably, which IS misleading.

The one statistic that is relatively unaffected by the number of tests is the number of deaths -- and of course this should be considered per capita when comparing with other countries.  So here's that number -- we are doing better than Belgium, the UK, Peru, Spain, Italy, Sweden, and Chile, but worse than everyone else: 

https://www.statista.com/statistics/1104709/coronavirus-deaths-worldwide-per-million-inhabitants/

I can't find a graph that shows deaths-per-capita over time, to see if it's going up or down.  I did find this quote: "The increase of 10,000 deaths in 11 days is the fastest in the United States since early June."

https://www.reuters.com/article/health-coronavirus-usa/us-coronavirus-deaths-top-150000-toll-ranks-6th-in-deaths-per-capita-globally-idUSL2N2F01AJ

For more information on coronavirus testing, here's how to find a coronavirus testing site near you and check wait times, who qualifies for COVID-19 testing and what you need to know about a coronavirus home testing kit.

I took a big fall

It's Thursday.  Last Monday, I took a big fall.  I had a pull-up bar installed in a doorway at home.  Paid about $40 for it. It was an expansion rod, but also set on top of two pegs that screwed into the door frame.  I'd been using it for a couple of weeks.

On this particular day, however, I was up at the top of a pull-up, with my feet held out in front of me (I'm tall, and that's the only way to get full arm extension at the bottom of the movement).  You guessed it -- the bar broke loose.

Specifically, the left side gave way.  In an instant, I fell from about six feet to the floor, which is tile on concrete slab.  I landed on my upper back -- almost flat, with a little cheat to the left.  I landed with a great thud.  There was no time to "slap out" even if I had not had a pull-up bar in my hands. This was NOT a feather fall.

I sat up, stunned, taking inventory.  I really thought I had broken something in my upper back.  Also, my left elbow was bleeding pretty badly, apparently from contacting the metal strip in the doorway. And my left butt cheek was sore, too -- clearly must've come down a little harder on that side.

Here's the thing.  I did NOT slam my head onto the tile.  My head did not touch.  Again -- tile on concrete slab. There was nobody home that could help me. I could have died in a pool of blood.

Did my Aikido training help? I have to believe it did.  There was NO time plan this fall -- I could do the math, but I won't. My body reacted instinctively, resulting in two things: 1) I my head off the floor, and 2)  I relaxed juuust enough to keep me from serious injury.

Coulda been dumb luck, too.  Probably a little of both.  

It's now about 19 days later.  My hip is still a little bruised, my elbow is still puffy and tender, and my neck is still stiff.  But I did no permanent damage.  

Racism and Training

These days, racism is a hot topic. There’s a lot to say about it. I’m far from an expert on the subject. I was taught, like most I guess, to treat people the same, at least in the sense that ethnicity shouldn’t and doesn’t matter. Outwardly I was taught this. I, like most, also picked up thousands of subtle lessons that were not explicitly “taught.”  Movies, the media, they all steer us to certain stereotypes that provide us barriers that we have to consciously overcome. Even in my own family, if it became necessary to refer to someone as black or Jewish, it was always done in hushed tones.  Times have changed, I told myself.

So anyway, I found myself recently frustrated about having to pick apart and dissect every word coming out of my mouth for fear of being racist – or at least being called racist.

I was thinking about this while learning a new Jo Kata (actually, one I used to know a long time ago). I have to move in ways I’m not used to. Familiar things are wrong in this new context. Some movements are backwards. The flow is different. The counting is different. I have to focus on every little detail, and slow it way, way down (for now), to carve those new pathways in my brain. It's really uncomfortable.

So it occurred to me that maybe the process of picking things apart and dissecting every word coming out of my mouth is part of a learning process, too. Maybe having labels and boundaries and rules is all part of taking baby steps to a greater understanding – even if it is frustrating and sometimes almost debilitating. Not maybe. I know this. But sometimes I forget.

So maybe one way to think about the recent protests is to consider them a call for us – for society in general -- to take some refresher courses in treating people with equal respect, compassion, and trust, no matter their ethnicity. Refresher courses are where you slow everything waaaay down, focus on every stinkin’ little detail, and develop muscle memory that maybe we’ve forgotten (or never had in the first place).

Deep breath. Back to that kata.

Aikido is Communication

This came across my information feed today:
https://www.dailyom.com/cgi-bin/courses/courseoverview.cgi?cid=738

The course description say that, in this course, you'll learn:

• How to speak consciously, clearly and concisely without anxiety.
• The practice of responding instead of reacting.
• To speak in a way that's kind, honest and helpful.
• When to speak and when to stay quiet.
• How to stay engaged when listening.
• To express yourself so that others can hear you.
• The best way to nip potential problems in the bud before they become meltdowns.
• How to be comfortable in silence -- no longer needing to fill the space.

It occurs to me that this has a lot of similarities to our practice in Aikido. Aikido is, in fact, a form of communication. Consider the following... 

In Aikido, we learn:

• How to act consciously, clearly and concisely without anxiety.
• The practice of responding instead of reacting.
• To act in a way that's kind, honest and helpful.
• When to act assertively and when to stay quiet.
• How to stay engaged in the midst of conflict.
• To express yourself so that Uke is affected.
• The best way to nip potential threats in the bud before they become more dangerous.
• How to fill the space by comfortably doing less.

Six Practices

I follow a guy named Mark Lesser.  He has written several books from his perspective as a project manager, Zen Buddhist, and a meditation teacher.  He talks a lot about accomplishing more by doing less.

Here's a recent post from him.  It is targeted at business folks, but I think his words are equally relevant in the context of Aikido -- and, conversely, it illustrates why I think Aikido is so relevant off the mat, as well.  I think these words are especially relevant during Jiyu-Waza or Randori, when we're under stress, even though we're among friends and on padded surfaces.

- Onagaishimasu  :-)

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It’s not difficult to notice the amount of fear that is arising during these most unusual and challenging times. Fear can be a useful ally. It can focus us, keep us safe, even at times keep us alive. Fear of illness or injury can motivate us to stop smoking, to exercise, and to eat healthier food. In our communities, it can motivate us to make our air and water cleaner, our bridges and levees stronger, our workplaces safer.

Fear can also be an enormous hindrance. Fear can color our world so that a stick can appear as a dangerous snake or an offer of friendship can be perceived as an imposition or even an attack. We can fear not getting promoted or losing our jobs; fear what people think about us, or fear that people aren’t thinking at all about us. We can fear the loss of a loved one, fear getting older, fear dying. The list of possible fears is almost endless, so it is not surprising that, sometimes without being aware of it, our actions and decisions can become ruled by fear. Living with fear can become an accepted and habitual way of being, leading to thoughts and actions that create more fear in a difficult-to-stop chain reaction — in ourselves, in relationships, in businesses and organizations, and in the world.

When we are afraid, our first impulse is to tighten our bodies and shut down our minds. We become the opposite of receptive and playful, and this is an enormous hindrance to learning new skills in the workplace, to collaborating, and to making interpersonal connections. The impulse to tighten can become so deeply ingrained that we may not even be aware of the ways that we keep ourselves back, or of the subtle and not-so-subtle ways that we communicate our fears to others.

Reducing fear (and its physical manifestation, anxiety) and opening oneself to new possibilities — surprises, even — is the first step, I believe, toward a more lasting sense of meaning and equanimity. Reducing fear can be the first action that frees us to achieve a goal (even when, in losing our fear, our goal becomes something very different than previously imagined).

To reduce fear, however, it’s important to acknowledge and become aware of our fears. I’ve noticed that this process of increasing awareness of fear is strangely freeing. This can allow wholly new approaches or solutions to appear.

Fear is like the “gunk” or rust that clogs our minds and our bodies, the perfect and beautiful engines we were born with. In our current world of more-faster-better, it can be difficult to see and feel the pervasive influences of fear. Transforming fear is not a one-time thing, either; we must develop ongoing strategies and habits to continually lessen it.

Wouldn’t it be refreshing to take time at the beginning of each day to simply appreciate being alive — time with no expectations, time with absolutely nothing to accomplish, time outside of your judgments? Imagine just appreciating your breath and your body, being open and aware of the magnificence and mystery of your human existence. Imagine just observing and being curious about the thoughts, problems, emotions, and complex stories that make up your “I.” Isn’t this an experience of the opposite of fear?

Some practices that can help us transform fear:

1.       Change the pace: Slow down. Structure a day, or part of a day, where the focus is on paying attention to yourself and your surroundings when you have nothing to accomplish. Leave your cell phone behind.  Get a new perspective.  If possible, go on a retreat away from your office space and home space. Be in a place that is less familiar and where you are less apt to feel the pull of everyday tasks and usual routines. Quiet and spaciousness are a beautiful thing.

2.       Get to know your monkey mind: Don’t be surprised or discouraged if you notice how busy and noisy your mind is when you remove distractions. Use your meditation and mindfulness practices; come back to your breath and body.

3.       Find your center: Notice that you are more than your stories. In the busyness of life, you can easily become fooled into believing that the stories you tell about yourself are you, and that they absolutely define you. As your mind becomes more quiet, you gain access to your still, undefinable center. You glimpse the ways you create these stories about yourself, about others, and about the world.

4.       Refresh and renew: Allow yourself to step (or more accurately, drop) into a place of not knowing, of uncertainty, of joy and refreshment. See if you can just appreciate everything you are, even your doubts and discomfort; just appreciate being alive.

5.       Blend the mundane and the sacred: See and appreciate the immensity and sacredness of all existence and at the same time see the mundane need to eat, wash the dishes, sweep the floors, and clean the counters.

6.       Let go of expectations: Just stop. Sit. Let go of the routines and activities of your life. Don’t expect anything. Be curious. Be open. Let yourself be surprised. As with meditation, you can’t do a retreat “right” or “wrong.” Don’t get caught in comparing your experience to anyone else’s. Of course, you will judge; you will compare. Pay attention to this. “Ah, isn’t this judging and comparing interesting?”

Steven Seagal teaches

Whatever you think of Steven Seagal as an actor, I believe you have to respect his abilities as an Aikidoka, and a teacher.

Here's a great video of him teaching some of his most signature techniques.  It's long.  I've marked a few spots that appeal to me personally.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_WzZCxs2f4

• 13:15 - Sensei teaches his Uke to move his hips to follow the technique. When we teach Kote-gaeshi at the Kai, it's almost always with a back fall, not a front (break) fall. I feel, however, that it's important to move with the technique as Sensei is teaching in this video, in order for both Uke and Nage to experience the full power of the technique, at speed.
• 16:00 - control, in Kosa-tori Nikko. Anybody every seen this before?  :-)
• 19:00 - Sensei talks about alignment of hips. Sound familiar? Notice that, at 19:30, he again speaks of Uke aligning his hips as well -- for his own protection. This means turning to keep the technique in front of him (Uke). When you're ready, learn to take that beautiful break fall -- it's not just for the aesthetics.
• 21:15 - Sensei unveils his signature Irimi-Nage.  I couldn't help noticing that, the first time he shows it, he shows it only ONCE. Pay attention!  
• 22:30 - "There's no pushing in Aikido.  It's a cut." (I love this)
• 25:50 - a variation of what we know at the Kai as "AK's Kokyu-ho".  However, this one puts Uke's wrist and elbow at risk, so it must be done with care, and Uke must be willing to move.
• 27:45 - Sensei talks about "practice" techniques versus street techniques, and how to practice in the dojo -- how to be a good Uke, essentially. A great lesson for Ukes who are trying to be more "realistic" in their attacks. Be sincere, not realistic (a realistic attack is almost never sincere).
• 36:30 - Sensei take requests, and lands on Sankyo. What he shows is not what we usually do, but it should all be familiar.
• 38:20 - Shihonage. Notice that Sensei teaches the takedown exactly in the direction we practice it at the Kai -- straight to the shoulder blades, where it's safe for Uke.  Although I think Sensei does emphasize the hips even here more than we generally do.
• 39:20 - a rather rare view of Segal doing a Koshi-Nage!

Irimi and the Handshake Induction

I recently watched an podcast in which Joe Rogan interviews Derren Brown, a very well-know hypnotist and mentalist.  It’s a long and interesting interview.  But skip ahead to the 13:30 mark and listen to a few minutes of Derren’s explanation of what a “handshake induction” is.

Some background (FYI, many years ago, I was actually a certified hypnotherapist. No kidding. LOL.). An induction is when a hypnotist or hypnotherapist puts a subject into a hypnotic “trance.”  There are many methods.  Some of the them are classic “you are getting very sleepy...”.  Some, like the handshake induction, are instantaneous, and rely on interrupting the normal flow.  (Ummm... Irimi). 

Derren goes on, in this little clip, to explain how he has used this technique in a martial arts situation.  It’s pretty interesting. 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=n_tpWrv76Q8

This reminds me of a story...  A good friend of mine (let's call him Tim) is a long-time school principal.  He often had to make a showing at school events and help with security and such.  At one such event, a football game, he noticed one of the school's well-known misfits, sitting along by himself, away from the game.  The kid (let's call him Charlie) was known to be a little weird, but harmless.

Tim notices that a small group of tough-looking guys is walking towards Charlie, and he can tell they're talking about him, and are thinking of having some fun with him.  Tim stealthily edged within earshot to monitor the situation.

As they approach, one of the big bullies steps forward to confront Charlie.  However, before the bully can get a word out, Charlie hops off his perch, takes a step toward the bully, and says "have you ever held a monkey?"

"Huh?"  The bully is taken by surprise, and tries to shake it off in front of his friends.

Charlie persists. "Have you ever held a money, man?  I've never done it, and it's on my bucket list. What about you?"

And the confrontation was over, as the bullies backed away and moved off.

Irimi is a powerful thing.

Mantra

Aikido isn't generally the kind of practice in which you get big "aha" moments very often.  Usually enlightenment comes in little flashes that are gone as quickly as they come, sometimes without even being noticed.  We depend on (hope for, live for) those flashes coming more frequently over time, and at deepening levels.

But sometimes we get a big epiphany.  I believe I had such a thing last night.

I love doing Ukemi.  I love being Uke.  I believe, and I have often said, that it's because when I am Uke I don't think.  I just react.  I just blend.

I have long known that this is where my brain and being should be when I'm Nage, as well.  I call it "being in my Uke brain" (even when I'm Nage).  I'm not there yet.

But, last night, Tonya said something while teaching that turned on a light.  

She was saying that, as Nage, we take advantage of the fact that Uke is focused on the attack -- say, the grabbing of the wrist.  Since they're focused on that, we use it.  For instance, as in last night, Uke is focused on that initial Kose-dori grip when coming around for Ushiro Ryote-dori, and we use that to go to "heaven" with the other hand as we execute Ryote-dori Tenchi Nage (she called it Kokyu-ho -- same idea).

She said that, as Nage, our world is open to possibilities.  Wide open.  Lots of options. As opposed to Uke, who is more or less constrained to the contact point of the attack.

That's when the light went on.  

It is that very focus, when I'm Uke, that allows me to just blend.  When my mind has this "mantra" to focus on, I can relax and just blend.   As Nage, the very idea of being unconstrained is what makes it difficult for me to just relax and blend.  I have too many options.  My mind wants to see them all; evaluate them all; pick one. Since I'm generally a "big picture" kind of thinker, this is overwhelming.  I have the same dilemma in other parts of my life -- while I'm good at seeing the big picture and all sides of any argument, I do tend to process things and make decisions slowly.

I've experienced the same sort of thing as a songwriter.  If someone says "write me a song," it's really hard.  If, instead, they say "write me a song with 'can't get there from here' as the title, in a gypsy style, in the key of A-minor -- well, that's actually easier.  Fewer options.  I'm off and running much quicker.

Ever been in a group of friends and someone says "where do you want to go for lunch?"  If it's wide open, the conversation takes longer.  If you're constrained to one hour and there's a vegetarian in the group, things get a lot "simpler," from the perspective of having to make a decision.

So.

What I realized was that I need to have a mantra, as Nage.  Something as specific and tactile as the attack when I'm Uke.  Something I can keep laser-focused on, so that the rest of my mind and body can relax and just do what it does fairly naturally by now.

Perhaps it's just my "center."  Or, as Ki Society folks say "Weight Under Center."  Right now, that doesn't seem specific enough -- though it's getting easier the more Taiji I do.

Anyway, I don't have the solution yet.  But now I have a much better idea of what the problem is.  In order to "get into my Uke brain" as Nage, I need a mantra.

Principles

Ikkyo, Nikkyo, Sanyko, Yonko, etc...  We all know them as "First technique, Second technique, etc".   Or perhaps "First teaching, Second teaching..."   But I recently watched a YouTube video in which they were referred to as "First principle, Second principle... etc."

This was an "aha" moment for me.  There are a number of common principles in Aikido.  Each school would have a different set of them -- each teacher, each person, even.  I'm talking about things like centering, breathing, blending, "live blade," self-control, balance, extending Ki, weight under center, movement.   There are so many.

I think that each technique we show, and even each variation we show, or attitude with which we show it, can focus on certain Aikido principles.  Some techniques lend themselves better to certain principles over others.

I find myself, when I'm teaching, looking around the room and watching people train, noticing different things. Perhaps I'm seeing errors in simple mechanics.Those are easy.  But I'm also looking, consciously or unconsciously, for certain principles.

For example, in our dojo we make a distinction between irimi-nage and kokyu-ho (or is it kokyu-nage?-- after 20 years I'm still not sure of the difference).  Even though some of the mechanics of certain variations can be very similar, by focusing on a particular principle we can see some differences.  Irimi is "entering," so we focus on entering, and the technique can become a bit more assertive, even aggressive.  Kokyu is "breath," and so the technique can be more "opening" -- more "flowy."   The basics of the variation can be very similar (say, from Ryote-dori or Katate--dori).  Both techniques can be very effective.  Each involves principles of the other.  The emphasis might depend on the teacher, the Uke, the Nage, the particular attack, etc...

If we're Kose-dori doing Nikkyo, I might focus on finding a direct line to Uke's center (or even my own).  If we're doing Yokomen-uchi Shihonage, however, all that motion might lend itself more to a focus on movement, or of maintaining center connection. 

All principles apply all the time, probably, but some techniques lend themselves better to demonstrating certain principles more than others.

Panda Sensei

I want to thank brother Spence for dubbing me "Panda Sensei."  Not quite as intimidating as some of the other more terrifying nicknames we've given our fellow mat mates, but I'll take it.  Big, fluffy, round, generally in a good mood...  I like it.

Thanks to Saturday Class

In my last post, I spoke about the Saturday class that I'll be leaving behind for a while, after having taught it for two and a half years.  Here's a picture of that class, to whom I own a great deal of thanks.  As I said at the end of class: "thank you for sharing your Saturday with me."

I want to point out a few things about this picture, to give you an idea of the quality of the people I train with.

• All the way on the left, that's Michael.  We call him "Dragon."  We used to call him "bearded Mike," but, well there are three bearded Mikes in the dojo (I'm one of them).  Dragon is an ex-marine, an accomplished power lifter, and a counselor.  He's one of the most physically gifted Aikidoka I've every worked with.  Tell him something once, he makes a correction, and it seems to stick.  Dragon already at a skill level far beyond his rank, and is gonna be a monster some day.   Dragon also has the distinct honor of teaching me a very valuable lesson in humility when I tried to reverse his Sankyo one day.  My wrist has only recently recovered.
• With his hand on Dragon's shoulder, hiding in the back, that's David.  He's an accomplished Taekwondo instructor in his other life, and I learn a lot from him about practical applications and strikes.
• Next to David, hand on my shoulder, is Torrey.  Torrey was visiting from Atlanta, where he trains at another unaffiliated dojo that hails originally from Nihon Goshin lineage, now more in a Takahara tradition.  Torrey trained with us on Monday, and then again this Saturday.  He wore a white belt to class out of respect, but it quickly became obvious that this was a ruse.  Torrey is training for Shodan, and I look forward to him visiting again after he makes rank.  I've never seen anyone more relaxed in a Jiyu-Waza.  His inside blends are powerful. and I learned a great variation on Irimi-nage today.  Come back any time, Torrey.
• AK is standing behind me in the picture (Brielle Sensei).  You can't see it, but he's wearing a hakama, and is the third most senior active member of the dojo, after Gaston Sensei and our new Shidoin, Eric Goodbar Sensei.  AK has been in training for Nidan for a number of months. AK has been a regular on Saturdays, with the exception of when they conflicted with Va Tech games.  He's always got a smile on his face, is always open to new ideas, and, for a guy who's physically strong enough to not need Aikido to defend himself, is actually one of the most mobile, fluid practitioners on our mat.  Thanks for your help over the years, AK, and I wish you well on your Nidan journey.
• Next to AK, in the back, is Jack.  Jack is one of the most diligent students at the Kai, and always goes the extra mile to put down or take down mats, lead mat cleaning, comes to extra practices, whatever.  We joke about Jack "the rock," and "Jersey Aikido."  But Jack has come a LONG way in finding more fluidity in his movements, and not resorting to his Jersey attitude and his other martial arts background (Karate? Taekwondo?).  The best thing about Jack may be the bits of wisdom that he lays on us at some point in most classes.  Once, to encourage students to breathe while the did Ukemi, I asked for a poem that we could recite while we rolled.  You'll have to ask Jack what he came up with.
• In front of Jack, just to my left, is Dr. Tom.  He wears a provisional black belt (a white belt with a black stripe down the center).  He doesn't test for rank, but he's been doing Aikido for a loooonnng time.   He's also an accomplished Judoka, and is prone to sweeping your leg if you let him.  I don't know exactly how old Tom is, but I hope I'm moving as well when I'm his current age as he is now.  Tom also happens to be an ER surgeon, so if we ever have an injury during class, we're in good hands.  And how old are we now, Doc?
• Finally, on the far right of the picture, that's Robert.  Robert is also a doctor.  Robert trains with such passion! We often have to get him to dial it down a notch, his safety and that of everyone else.  Robert thinks about Aikido a lot, off the mat -- something I can relate to.  Robert also brought me a bottle of wine as a parting gift today -- how very nice.  Thanks, Robert.

Journey to Nidan Begins

Hello, all.

A few weeks ago, I requested permission to officially embark on a path to test for the rank of Nidan, which Gaston Sensei approved.

Requirements for the rank are as follows:

1. Mastery of core techniques -- both as Uke and as Nage.  The only "new" technique is Koshinage.
2. Must express desire to test at least two years from attaining Shodan
3. After formal request, at least one year, with documentd 150 hours of training.  Hours teaching do not count.

I want to talk about that first requirement (the other two are pretty straightforward).  "Mastery" -- that's a big word.  I think that, in order to consider myself having "mastered" the core techniques to a level sufficient to be worthy of the rank of Nidan, I will be expected by my Sempai to show the following:

• I must show precision and control -- this is a hallmark of what we teach at the Kai.
• The techniques must come naturally.  I shouldn't have to "look for" them in any but the most unusual of situations, and even then I should be able to navigate to them if needed.
• I must know the technique deeply enough to teach them consistently to a wide variety of students at all levels.  This means knowing the typical pitfalls and knowing how to help students work their way through them.
• No matter what I'm doing, I must show a level of poise and confidence appropriate to the rank.  

In addition to what I think others will be expecting of me, I think there are some things I'll be aspiring to for my own satisfaction.  I suppose these are also things I would expect of other students reaching the rank of Nidan, but that's not my place yet.

• Variation: I need to be able to show variations of the technique in different styles. This includes different "dialects" within our own Kai, as well as variations from other styles of Aikido.  To accomplish this, I am committed to increasing my attendance at Seminars, and try to visit other dojos when I travel. I think it's important to show other styles because not everybody is the same.  Different body types, mind sets, Ukes, athletic ability, strength levels, situations -- one style simply can't work best in all of them.
• Randori: This, in my mind, is the true test of Shodan, and even moreso for Nidan.  I have a long way to go before I feel I'm proficient at this.

Well, so be it.  Thanks to all my training partners over the years -- especially those students who attended my Saturday class for the last 2.5 years.  I will be leaving that class behind for a while, to focus on Nidan training, and to do some other things on Saturdays for a while.

Mike

I miss teaching already

I've been teaching the Saturday class at our dojo since August 2016.  I blogged about my reasons for deciding I needed to teach, and my experience teaching my first class, here. 

It's time for a change.  I've decided that I want to recover some of my Saturday mornings for a while, which will free up some of my Mondays and Thursdays, so I've requested that someone else take on teaching the Saturday class for a while.  This will commence in mid-December, and I find myself missing it already.  I have learned a lot during my tenure as teacher -- so much so that I hope to come back to it someday, "god willin' and the creek don't rise" (and my knee holds up). 

I guess I've always approached my teaching the way I approach my Aikido -- with a spirit of curiosity and experimentation.  It's still amazing to me how much I learn when I'm not training, but rather looking around the room while other people practice, with the thought that they're expecting me to have something to offer on the subject.  As I've said plenty of times off the mat, I never cease to amaze myself at the opinions I have. 

Teaching is a really great way to hold your own learnings up to the light and see if they have any cracks in them.  They usually do.  I've learned that the toughest Ukes are often the best teachers.  I've learned that humility is a necessary ingredient to learning, but so is confidence.  While I've always learned 80% of what I know by being Uke, I've now learned that showing someone how to be Nage is just as enlightening.  There's nothing like seeing someone "get it" based on something you did or said.  I will miss that.

I started playing music during my class at least a year ago.  I chose music that was specifically designed to enhance focus -- either from focusatwill, or the Taiko drums station on Pandora.  I know this is extremely nontraditional, but I always liked the vibe it created in class, including the ebbs and flows that organically found themselves onto the mat from the music.  I don't think anyone else does that.  I will miss it.

I believe that being a good teacher for any individual student means being striking a balance between consistency and flexibility, rigor and spontaneity, statements and questions.  On the one hand, it's critical for a teacher to be able to show the core techniques with laser focus, to minimize the student's doubt as to what's expected of them on a test.  This is especially true at a dojo like ours, which has no "higher body" or outside affiliation to "keep us honest."  On the other hand, and as we discussed in class today, the higher your level of understanding as a student, the more it's possible to focus on key higher-level concepts even if the nuts and bolts look different.  I plan to advance my own Aikido with that in mind.

finally, I am infinitely grateful to all those who gave up their Saturday mornings to spend them with me on the mat.  It's such an honor.  You know who you are.  I know you always had other options.  To think that you made the conscious choice to listen to me babble as we practiced the same old stuff and tried new stuff, is very humbling.  I hope you took away some good basics, opened your minds a bit, rounded off some corners, learned to love the mat, and had some fun. I will miss bowing you in and out.

Domo Arigato Gosaimasu

Non-violence

The following is an answer I posted on Quora.com, to the question: “Why is Aikido sometimes considered a ‘non-violent’ martial art?”

. . .

Great question. Aikido is generally practiced as a “softer,” less violent style of martial art. Some would even say it’s not a martial art at all (I’m not one of them). Aikido has a lineage that can be traced back to “harder” styles, and even the founder’s earlier teachings are considerably more aggressive than what he taught at the end of his life.

One of my past teachers once asked the class “What is your greatest weapon in Aikido?” The answers came back: “Your mind! Your spirit! Your Ki”… Sensei nodded politely, but rolled his eyes until he became exasperated. “Yes, yes yes… but STOP!” He said. “You’re all missing the point! Your best weapon is THE GROUND!” :-)

During training, we often show techniques that can break bones, dislocate joints, or lead to brutal trauma caused by meeting the ground with great “enthusiasm.” Of course, we joke that we always execute our techniques “with love,” because, after all, this is Aikido.

My current teacher (who, BTW, favors the “harder” end of the Aikido spectrum), puts it this way: “In Aikido, you can often use the very same technique on the mugger in the dark alley that you would use on the drunken uncle at the party. We train for the mugger, so we’re ready for the drunken uncle.”

Aikido is NOT “non-violent.” We deal with violence. We can respond to, and with, levels of violence that span the spectrum. I think what makes Aikido unique among martial arts is that we train to have more options than most to respond to conflict with less violence. As Doran Sensei once said “Aikido is about ending the fight, not winning it.”

Time Off

I've been off that mat for a couple of weeks.  Work has piled up and taken over my evenings, and I've had some things to do on the weekends, conflicting with the class I usually teach on Saturdays.

I'm really looking forward to getting back on the mat ... about 45 hours from now. 

I've also started doing CrossFit training, so I'm sore in ways I haven't felt in decades, and I'm really craving the movements in Aikido.  I plan to run the class in such a way that I can participate through most of it.

That's it.  Just sharing my joy.

Parking lot chronicles

Story #1 (of 3): Irimi

A few weeks ago, I was in a car accident.  Well, I hit another car in a parking lot. It was a very crowded, unmarked lot with chaotic parking.  I was driving my big Chevy Tahoe.  I thought I had done a masterful job at backing out in very tight quarters, and was pulling away, when I heard the metal-crumpling sound of my passenger door — I had sideswiped the rear bumper of a car I didn’t see. Argh.  So much for ma’ai, right? The rear bumper of the other car was dented, and the tail light cracked.  My truck had a big white line down the side, with a little dent.

The owner of the car was not present — probably in the restaurant. Since I had my wife, daughter, and mother-in-law with me, I decided to leave a note with all my pertinent information, and drive everybody home (about 40 minutes).

About 3 miles down the road, my phone rang with an unfamiliar number, so I assumed it was the owner of the car I’d hit.  The irate man on the other end shouted at me incessantly, demanding that I turn around and return to the restaurant, stating that he had already called the police, claiming a hit-and-run.  I tried to explain that this was no such thing, and a matter for the insurance companies one we completed the exchange of information, but he was having none of it so I shouted back at him in frustration, and turned the car around.

When I arrived, I left my family at the other end of the lot and walked toward the scene of the crime.  The man spotted me immediately and I could see him tense up. He was what you might call a “typical” backwoods guy, complete with backwards baseball cap and chewing tobacco.  I also noticed that he was a little smaller than me, didn’t seem to be drunk, and might be carrying a weapon.

Just about when we met, before he could speak, I reach out my hand to shake his, which he accepted, put my other hand on his shoulder, and said “Hi, my name’s Mike.  I’m the guy who hit your car.  I’m really sorry I yelled you on the phone.”

He softened immediately, mumbling “It’s alright, man. It’s actually not my car — it’s hers (motioning to his girlfriend).”

So, my Irimi had both immediately diffused the situation and deflected it to move onto another (more reasonable) partner.

(For the record...  no, I didn’t really plan this out ahead of time, though I did resolve to take charge, and the hand on the shoulder was intentional. )

Story #2: Atemi from afar

I’m in the parking lot of a grocery store near my house.  It’s late — maybe 10:45 pm. Only a couple of cars in the lot.  I’m walking in, kinda looking at my phone as I walk (yes, guilty), when I pass, on the way to her car, a very attractive woman (again, guilty).  I sneak a peak over my shoulder.  As I continue, a bad-ass looking dude in a white Ford Mustang, with engine rumbling low and window rolled down, trolls past me toward the woman, rolls past her, and then backs up next to her car (remember, the lot is almost empty).   I notice what’s going on over my shoulder, and by this time at the entryway to the grocery store, where there happens to be a store employee, standing and watching the whole thing.  I make eye contact with a quick over-the-shoulder nod that’s says “you seeing this?”, and he up-nods back. So I stand beside him and we both watch the scene.

About 20 seconds later, the Mustang pulls away.

So, maybe this was nothing.  Maybe the Mustang was gonna pull away anyway.  But I don’t think so.  I think the Atemi that the store employee and I executed from across the lot put the Mustang dude off his game.   I actually think the woman in the car was oblivious to all of it.  She was gone when I got out of the store.

Story #3: Assess

Just the other day — same grocery store parking lot.  I’m driving on my way out, when an SUV rolls past me heading the opposite direction.  A big black woman is driving (forgive me, but the stereotype is important to the story).

Right on her tail — just feet away — is a beat up pickup truck driven by a long-haired, bearded redneck looking guy. He is blaring his horn repeatedly, and looks agitated.  I’m thinking “Dude, I wouldn’t mess with her if I were you...”

I watch the scene play out in my rear-view mirror. They come to a stop in the parking lot, and the woman gets out — shall we say “rather confrontationally.”   They guy gets out, too, and I’m thinking “Oh, shit, here we go...”

The guy motions frantically to the back of her car, and crouches down underneath to point something out. She looks, too, and they have a conversation.

Clearly, they guy had just been trying to get her attention because something was wrong with her car.

I shake my head and think “wow, was I ever wrong about that.”