Our Loss

We just learned that one of our fellow Aikido died.  Joe Coty died doing what he loved, while in a class at the shooting range where he was an instructor.  Unfortunately, on this day, he suffered a fatal heart attack.    Joe had been through a lot recently, as he cared for and suffered with his wife battling, and finally succumbing to, cancer.   Joe was scheduled to test for 3rd Kyu in the fall of 2015.   He will be missed.  We have a running joke at the Dojo... I will think of Joe next time Sensei says "OK, everybody grab a Jo(e)."

Joe and I weren't very close, in the normal sense.  But it's hard not to feel a sense of closeness when you spend time on the mat together with someone.  You sweat together, put hands on each other, and cause each other pain and frustration.  Sometimes, without meaning to, you even injure each other. It's this very closeness that makes it hard for beginners to become regulars.  Joe didn't let any of that stop him.

I hope that, when I'm 68, I have the same passion for life, and for Aikido, that Joe did.

Push Hands

The attrition rate of new Aikido students is very, very high.

I've been doing Aikido since 1998, and in that time I've seen a lot of students quit Aikido before they've ever really started -- say, in the first 3-6 months.

My wife was one of them.  We've talked about it.  To her, the problem is clear.  It has very little to do with the art of Aikido.  It has to do with all the physical, mental, and emotional crap you bring to the mat with you, and how you swim in all that baggage as you interact in unfamiliar ways with unfamiliar people.

Those of us who've been around for a while have probably forgotten how scary it is to choose a partner and work with them; to grab their wrist, or have them grab yours, to cause pain in another human being, or allow pain to be inflicted upon yourself (both even with boundaries).  And so on.

Remember the thoughts that went (or still go?) through your head as a beginner?

• Should I choose a partner?
• Why did they choose me?
• Why didn't they choose me?
• Is he better than me?
• Oh, I suck -- can I work with a beginner instead?
• Oh, I suck -- can I work with a black belt instead?
• Why is my partner DOING  that?!
• Should I correct them?
• Is Sensei watching me?
• Why isn't Sensei paying attention to me?
• This person SMELLS!
• This person SWEATS!
• This person is so BIG!
• This person is to TINY!
• Why is my partner correcting me? I've been doing this longer than they have!
• Why is my Uke being so stubborn?!
• Ha! They can't throw me if I do... this.
• Ouch! -- not so hard!  I hate working with this person.
• Oh, I LOVE working with this person!
• . . . and on and on and on...

I think we lose most of our Aikido students in the first 3-6 months because of all the interpersonal garbage that we ALL bring to the mat with us.   And because learning to fall can suck -- but that's a different story.

Recently, my Tai Chi teacher was adding various "push-hands" drills to our (Tai Chi) practice.  If you're curious what that looks like, just google it, or check out this example (which happens to be a wonderful guitar teacher I'm met before... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jHYHwOC8zU)

The one in the video is actually considerably more complex that the simple ones I've done so far, but they show that there's a gentle interaction between the partners, a complete lack of tension, and certainly no pain being inflicted on one another.

It seems to me that these kinds of drills would be a good thing for all beginning Aikido students to start with, if only to get over the simple human fear of having another human in your space.

World Combat Games

Turn off the TV.  This is WAAAY better.

Really beautiful all-around demonstration of LOTs of different techniques, styles, and personalities.

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

I fall, therefore I train

So, I went for a run at lunch today.  I'm running one of my usual 5K routes, but because it's the warmest day of the year so far and I'm a little low on sleep, I struggle a bit.   I'm at the end of the run, and my legs are rubbery.  I have about 10 yards to go to my "end" marker, and I stumble.

I'm on really rough, unfinished sidewalk concrete.  Not smooth -- bumpy.

I start my impending nasty face plant with my left hand leading the way to the earth. In the split second that seemed like forever on the way down, I see myself pulling my hand in to gently touch the concrete, and I roll to my left.  Not a pretty roll.  Pretty awkward, in fact.  But I end up on safely my side/back, shaking my head.

There is no doubt in my mind that if I hadn't been been falling to the mat hundreds of times a week for the past 20 years, I would have certainly bloodied up my left hand really badly, and very probably broken or at least sprained my wrist.

As it is, I sustained a tiny bruise on my left hip, a little strawberry on my left elbow, and a minor abrasion on my right hand.  My left hand -- that's the one that frets the strings of my guitar -- is unscathed.

Another minor victory for klutzes everywhere.

Balance

My Taiji teacher said something this weekend that I thought I'd relate to you...  somethign that should sound familiar to any Aikidoka, but this time the simple way it was put, sort of drove it home for me (again)....

He said: "Whenever you're out of balance, the answer is always less tension -- not more."

And yet, often when we're out of balance (leaning too far one way or the other, for instance), our first reaction is to apply a correction with additional effort -- push this way or that, for instance.

In Aikido, we operate on the principle that if we're in balance with Uke, then the technique will flow more or less effortlessly.  It's what we put our faith in, as practitioners.  So, if a technique in Aikido is not working, it means it's out of balance.  If it's out of balance, it means that we need to apply less tension -- not more.

Not working? Do less.

Ikkyo, and making an argument

At my job, I'm often in the position of pitching an agenda to a sometimes reluctant audience.  I'm a Project Manager in a high-tech company, and my presentations often determine whether we're going to spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on all kinds of stuff.   I can sometimes get a lot of "push-back," especially when the situation is complicated or difficult for a whole host of possible reasons.

So, the for the past couple of days, we've done Ikkyo in Aikido class.  First technique.  O'Sensei called it the "twenty-year" technique.   I, personally, have had lots of difficulty with this technique.  In particular, the timing is very tricky -- especially from a Shomen-uchi attack, and especially the way we do it in our Dojo, which is very, very direct and linear.  Even if I get the timing right, I often over-extend myself (I lean forward), which makes the technique hard to finish.

So, during my last presentation at work, I'm anticipating an attack from some "Uke" in the room, and, sure enough, there it is (Shomen-uchi -- a strike right to the top of my head).  It occurs to me that the visual presentation on the screen (the PowerPoint presentation) is like the hand/arm technique, and the technical, commercial, and political "posture" I'm taking, manifested in my physical and verbal delivery, is my "center."   

So, I focused on not letting what was on the screen get too far ahead of the attack, nor did I minimize it (a la "T-Rex arms").  I focused on my own posture, my own center, and how it related to Uke's.  I met the attack before it had built up any real power, and moved through it -- from my center.

The fight was over before it began, and nobody got hurt.   I even got comments after the meeting like "I don't know what you did, but it worked."

Yes, this stuff really works!

SABLE

While Aikido, in general is not conducive to a "cookbook" approach, it can be useful -- especially for new students -- to have some "rules" to apply during practice.  Beyond the things we hear all the time like "breathe," "relax," "move," etc, I think there's a general pattern to our training that I'd like to suggest..

So, I'm still working on the snappy mnemonic that will be the cover of my best-selling book on Aikido (ha), but set that aside for a moment.  check this out:

S - See
A - Adjust (or Adapt)
B - Blend
L - Lead
E - End

(note that "Sable" means "very dark in color" -- like a black belt, if that helps)

Let's break this down.

See

To "see" the attack is take it all in, while not getting fooled, frightened, or distracted into focusing on it.  We talk about having a "soft focus" -- meaning that you don't physically focus your eyes on any particular spot, but rather you take in the whole scene.  Eventually this includes the whole room.  Sorentino Sensei teaches: Aikido evolved out of an environment that included "multiple attackers, weapons everywhere."

I even thought about using the word "Forecast," to indicate that we work towards seeing the attach before it even happens.  Not nearly as cool a mnemonic, IMHO (Fable), and really doesn't stress the "whole scene" aspect.  But we do try to work towards being ahead of the attack; responding, rather than reacting to it (but not having an agenda!).

Adjust, or Adapt

Once we see the attack, our first objective is to "not get hit" (or grabbed, or whatever).  To do that, we almost always talk about getting "off the line of attack."   Sometimes this looks like we turn (tenkan) to face the same direction as the attacker (Uke).  Sometimes we simply step aside to the "safe side" of the attack (shikakku).  There are also techniques, and individual styles, which stress a more aggressive line that seem more to own, or take over the line of attack, rather than adjusting to it. Often, these are more "entering" (irimi) techniques. Still, I think it's safe to say that getting off the line is a general principle of most Aikido techniques and philosophy.

Blend

Ah, yes, blending.  This is probably the thing that most students (at any level) find the most difficult.  New students especially find it counter-intuitive to blend with an attack rather than what is more natural, which is to oppose, block, or resist the attack.  It never ceases to amaze me how we seem to be hard-wired to go right into the attack when we, rather than go around it, and how we seem to retreat from attack in real life.

In Aikido, there are plenty of times when we project power directly into the attacker's center (he says as he rubs his wrist, recalling last night's Nikkyo demonstration), but always there's a way "in" to that point that does not involve directly opposing the attack.  It may not look like that at speed, or to a new student, it may be very small circles...  but it's true.

Lead

Leading the attack is the next phase, after we've blended with it and broken the attacker's center (shizuki).  Depending on the style of the practitioner, the body types involved, and the technique itself, this bit can be anywhere from big and round and flowing, to direct and linear and almost invisible.   But this is the phase in an Aikido interaction where we (as Nage) say to the attacker (Uke) "I've heard what you have to say, I'm not taking it personally, I have a better idea, and here it is."

End

I remember Frank Doran Sensei once saying "Aikido is about ending the fight (not winning it)."  In Aikdio, the "end" of a technique can be anything from disposing of the attacker and moving on to the next one, to pinning the attacker to the mat (gently and with love, of course).

So there you have it.  SABLE.   Chew on that for a while.