Grab My Wrist

“When we live in our bodies we understand that it’s more satisfying to be than to have....

Fri, 23 Jul 2010 13:27:00 -0700

“When we live in our bodies we understand that it’s more satisfying to be than to have. When we’re embodied, love becomes more important than being right.

… To live in the body is to live truly in the condition of being human—what we know is that we’re helpless and vulnerable. We’re going to die. That frightens us. It also gives us choice. If we are someday going to die, we have a choice to live, to fully embody our destiny as human beings. …

We keep ourselves busy running from this painful recognition… To be with our desperation and need, instead of masking it with knowledge is an evolutionary choice. To live in uncertainty, but with aliveness and immediacy, demands the courage and durability of a warrior.”

Richard Strozzi-Heckler
“In Search of the Warrior Spirit - Teaching Awareness Disciplines to the Military”

Photo

Wed, 26 May 2010 19:29:14 -0700

A Tree in a Hurricane

Wed, 26 May 2010 18:43:00 -0700

I’ve had a bit of a scare recently. I will not be fine (who among us will be, really?), but I’m a lot better off than I feared.

The past week was difficult. I had just started outlining a twenty-year plan for my life and career from 47 to 67. I’d ordered a stack of interesting books, and made a list of mentors to talk to. There were things to learn, possibilities to investigate… Exciting stuff.

Then I stumbled onto what sounded like some very bad news during a routine physical. Suddenly the future didn’t look like it was going to be much fun. I don’t scare easily, but I’ve never been so afraid.

It was like being in a hurricane, struck by new information and realizations like 2x4s hurled in the wind. In that hurricane, Aikido was the deeply-rooted tree I was clinging to. Friday night’s class (see my previous post about it) could not have come at a better time or been more perfect. (How does Sensei do that?) Everything I’ve learned about meditation, breathing, staying present, being in my body, moving in, keeping my center… It all came into play. On Monday, when I should have been up in the mountains training my horse, I arranged for him to be turned out to play, and went to the dojo instead. Clinging to my sturdy tree. Another two classes last night kept me grounded.

Today I got test results that added up to very good news. More tests ahead, and ongoing management. But I was already doing that.

Aikido is probably the best thing I could have been doing for the past year, and into the future, both physically and emotionally. I had cut back recently to 3 days a week to spend more time with Rainy. But I’m going to try to go at least 4 days, 5 when I can, at least for now. Something else will have to give. Maybe I’ll have to hire a trainer to work with Rainy during the week.

This whole adventure has been a good reminder. Treasure every moment. Take nothing for granted. Don’t put things off. I’m so glad I went to that 5-day seminar at the start of the year, that I’ve been able to train so much, that I’m working regularly with my horse, that I spend lots of time with my husband having fun together, that I do rewarding work I enjoy, that I spend time in nature… There are a few things I need to be doing more - that I shouldn’t be putting off. Someone said “it’s not the things we do that we regret, but the things we do not do.” When you have opportunities to do what you love, take them. You never know if you’ll have the chance later.

Right now I have every expectation that I will continue to have those chances. So it’s back to crafting that twenty-year plan, with optimism and excitement. It will definitely include Aikido. Right after I go out for dinner and walk with the love of my life.

Life lessons from last night’s class, in which Sensei...

Sat, 22 May 2010 09:26:00 -0700

Life lessons from last night’s class, in which Sensei focused on good ukemi in freestyle:

Be present in your body.
Don’t go, or take a fall, in anticipation of what you think is coming.
Feel what’s actually happening.
Stay soft and responsive.
Spring back the moment the pressure is off.
Keep your integrity.
You have more power in the situation when you have a solid base.
Keep moving. Do something. Don’t just stand there and wait for the attack to come.
By choosing how you invite the attack, you will be better able to deal with it.
If your balance is really taken, go with it. Make the new direction yours. Own it.
Keep your center, and be ready to respond to openings for reversals.

Important points to take to heart, in Aikido and in everything.

Along those same lines, via my friend William Cummings on Facebook yesterday:
“I am an old man and have known a great many troubles , but most of them never happened .”
- Mark Twain

Like Bread Dough

Wed, 19 May 2010 00:02:00 -0700

I’ve really been enjoying training lately, even though I have been at the dojo somewhat less to make time to work with Rainy, my horse. I look forward to classes like a kid on Christmas morning. I’m having fun with Rainy, and we’re progressing well, but I miss Aikido on the days I don’t go.

The connections and similarities between Aikido and horsemanship go much deeper than I had expected. That will be the subject of my next column for ”The Mirror” on AikiWeb, in June. I’m constantly making wonderful discoveries in that area, and hearing virtually the same words from my horsemanship teacher and Sensei. There have been a few jaw-dropping moments with each where all I could think was “did I really just hear them say that?”

For most of this spring, summer, and probably fall I am in a really wonderful place with respect to dojo life. I’m not close to testing (my next exam will be for 4th kyu), and I’m not advanced enough to mentor others. I don’t have any seminars coming up. Nothing in particular is expected of me. I feel like bread dough that’s been left in a warm, quiet place to rise. The ingredients are all there, and well mixed. There’s nothing to do but let them expand and mature. Just train.

I can almost feel the synapses in my brain making new connections, as the discrete skills and pieces of information I’ve accumulated over the past year weave themselves together. Recently, after being off the mat for a few weeks with a minor muscle strain I felt like I’d been away forever. I was sure I’d forgotten half of what I barely knew in the first place. But there it was. My body remembered.

This kind of somatic learning has been a very interesting new experience, and something I am beginning to explore in more depth. It’s fascinating being the one it’s happening to, and sort of watching it from the the inside.

While I do enjoy the intensity of working toward an exam, or being ready for an upcoming event, training with no particular goal is very pleasant and rewarding. I feel more able to explore different aspects of techniques, focus on ukemi, and be satisfied with improving and ingraining. Refining and deepening my understanding, rather than accumulating new pieces of information. I’ve also been watching how others teach, because from 4th kyu onward there’s the possibility of being asked to mentor others who are preparing for their tests.

Because I have no responsibilities, I’ve been free to take on other little things. Cleaning this or that, bringing flowers for the shomen from time to time, getting video of some exams, and so on. We will be moving the dojo to a new location in July, and I’m looking forward to helping with that however I can.

But mostly I’m just enjoying training.

Photo

Tue, 04 May 2010 22:45:00 -0700

Milestone: One Year in Aikido

Tue, 04 May 2010 22:40:00 -0700

I am celebrating the completion of my first year in Aikido by staying home and fighting off a cold. I really wanted to be on the mat tonight. Instead I have the opportunity to practice writing with only half my brain engaged. My apologies if I ramble.

It’s hard to believe it’s already been a year, but it also seems like a lifetime. In some ways, it has been a lifetime. I am not the same person I was when I first stepped onto the mat.

It would be impossible to overstate my gratitude and admiration for my teacher, Dave Goldberg Sensei. He passes on the touch of the founder through his technique, speaks our dojo community into existence, and embodies a safe space for discovery and transformation. He demonstrates that one can be vulnerable and strong, gentle and effective, trusting, allowing, patient, generous… These have been more powerful lessons than any exercise or technique I’ve learned.

I have trained 155 days. I’ve participated in seminars and workshops. There was a dojo retreat, picnic, exam days, lunches, and parties. I’ve learned a little about Japanese culture and language, martial ethics and history, and met the most wonderful people. I reached my goal of losing 40 pounds, and on the whole am much healthier (the present cold notwithstanding) and stronger. I’ve developed some discipline in other areas where I had been, frankly, a slob about things. I still have a long way to go.

I’ve tested for 6th and 5th kyu. Whoever said your first test is the hardest one was right, I think. But I need to guard against overconfidence. I forgot how fully I threw myself into training up to 6th kyu, and did not train as well as I might have as my 5th kyu test approached. Yes, I trained a lot, but not with the same focus and attention as at the beginning. I’ve been trying to reclaim that, while allowing the process of learning to happen, like healing, in its own good time.

I came to Aikido hoping to develop skills that would help me in my riding and horsemanship. So far, so good, in those terms. But it has gone so much deeper than just those skills, in directions I never anticipated. I have been experiencing how one learns motor skills, and watching how to teach in that realm. I now have my horse, Rainy, boarded where I can work with him regularly through the summer, with a great teacher, in the company of others on that same path. It has only been a few weeks, and already we are making more progress than in the past two years. If I’ve been a little behind in my blogging, it’s because I’ve been at the barn.

I came to Aikido determined and fearless, and have learned to temper those qualities with patience and judgment. I’ve learned to notice and treasure the cycles and rhythms of dojo life. I discovered that I really like training with weapons, and meditating. I’ve learned to be a little more gentle with myself, let my mind be a bit quieter, to allow others more space and time to be who they are.

Touching and being touched, even being hit or held, was never a problem. But it took me a while to get comfortable with watching people. At first it felt awkward to even casually look on as techniques were demonstrated, never mind openly studying another’s body, movement, and posture. It seemed rude, intrusive, and inappropriate. Now it’s an aesthetic delight and a source of wonder, like hearing beautiful music, and learning to pick out the bass lines and sing the harmonies.

After a lifetime of doing my best to dismiss what my body and emotions had to say, I have begun to allow myself to feel, and to acknowledge that feelings have legitimacy. I have discovered a whole world of somatic psychology, body work, motor learning, and conscious embodiment that I had never been aware of, and am finding it fascinating. My skeptical, literal, rational brain would have dismissed most of it a year ago, but enough direct experience tends to shut down those objections pretty soundly.

Robert Nadeau Shihan, my teacher’s teacher, when discussing dimensions of ourselves in our recent seminar, said “You don’t know who you are, really.” New dimensions reveal new aspects of ourselves. I’ve been catching glimpses. Some have been surprising. Each has felt a little like coming home - right, familiar, and comfortable.

On one of my first visits to the dojo someone asked me “So, how long are you going to do Aikido?” It seemed like such an odd question that I couldn’t even form an answer. I’m sure I just gave a confused stare. The answer was then, as it is now, “For the rest of my life.”

OK, Earth, take us for another spin around the Sun. Let’s see what there is to see on this trip.

A slideshow with a couple-hundred of the photos I took this...

Sun, 11 Apr 2010 20:06:00 -0700

A slideshow with a couple-hundred of the photos I took this weekend during the seminar with Robert Nadeau Shihan, at Aikido of San Diego. (Better yet, watch it full-screen on Flickr.)

A great time, lots of fun people to train with, beautiful weather, and of course fantastic teaching. Many thanks to everyone who made it possible.

I am participating in a seminar this weekend with Robert Nadeau...

Sat, 10 Apr 2010 22:26:56 -0700

I am participating in a seminar this weekend with Robert Nadeau Shihan, at Aikido of San Diego. Friday evening was a question and answer session. Very interesting stuff. I feel very fortunate to have him here, and grateful for his time in sharing his realizations and experiences with us.

One of the yudansha who teaches at our dojo, Cyril, uses a...

Wed, 31 Mar 2010 23:01:00 -0700

One of the yudansha who teaches at our dojo, Cyril, uses a variety of people as Uke when he demonstrates techniques. It makes classes that much more intense, because you never know when or if you’ll be called up, so you’d best pay sharp attention.

Learning to be a good uke is really important to me, for a lot of reasons. A lot of the most valuable learning in Aikido comes from ukemi. Like learning to move with and into the energy and situation, rather than fighting against it, for instance, not as a way of giving up, but to keep one’s center and regain balance. Being a good uke isn’t just falling, it includes providing committed attacks so one’s partner can practice effectively. Ukemi seems to be where I find growth and discovery happening, more than in practicing techniques as Nage.

So I’m grateful every time I’m called up to help demonstrate a technique. Even when (and it seems to be the case more often than not) I screw it up in some spectacular way, and have to be shown what was wanted. Although he is incredibly gracious about it, I hate being incompetent. Crawling under a rock has sounded like a good plan on a few occasions.

I learned early on, however, that abject humiliation, even in front of the whole class, will not kill me. The only thing to do is shake it off, note the correction, focus, and do better the next time.

Actually, I’m grateful for the correction, and for the fact that even after I screw something up pretty thoroughly, I’m called up again. He doesn’t get mad, and he doesn’t give up on people. I thanked Cyril last night for his “persistent and good-humored attempts to help me become a better uke.”

If I pay close enough attention to how he gently guides and redirects students it could help me become a better teacher, and better person, too.

Body, Border Collies, & Beer

Sun, 21 Mar 2010 22:56:00 -0700

Every month or two Sensei offers an Aikido In Focus workshop at the dojo. This time the subject was jiyuwaza, or freestyle. One-on-one practice, using whatever techniques are appropriate to the circumstances. Jiyuwaza is great fun. It’s also a source of endless frustration because I get in my head and freeze up trying to think of what I should do next, instead of going with the energy given to me by my training partner. I go to these workshops regardless, because they are always a valuable experience. But an In Focus workshop on the “free” in freestyle? Heck yes, sign me up.

Aside from being familiar with the format and the topic of the workshop, I had no preconceptions or expectations. Honestly, I hadn’t even had time to think about it.

Every time I go to the dojo I take a few minutes on the way there to consider what I would like to get out of the experience. My hope for today was that I could let myself be open enough to get it.

I got to the dojo, warmed up, and bowed in.

These workshops are really experiential. You feel them. They get into your muscle memory and emotions. It would be very hard to write up any kind of synopsis. What it looked like was about a dozen people on the mat, talking briefly at first, moving into a standing body-awareness exercise, and then on to slow and simple, then progressively faster and more complex, partner practices that ended with people doing some really nice, flowing, centered freestyle. At the end we sat on the mat around a television, and watched video of our practice, critiqued ourselves, and got feedback from Sensei and the other participants. That’s not telling you much, but that’s what it looked like.

And a Lamborghini looks like a car. Y’know, doors, wheels, an engine…

The first of several “Aha!” moments for me came during an exercise we’ve done quite a lot. We walk around the mat at random, and randomly settle into a grounded, centered, aligned stance for a few moments. Then back to walking, and settle again. And then continuing with circling and settling. I had not realized it, but I’d been patterning. I had been alternating right/left foot forward in the stance I settled into. No big deal.

Wendy Palmer Sensei, in her book The Intuitive Body - Discovering the Wisdom of Conscious Embodiment and Aikido speaks of the mind being like a puppy, running off, investigating everything, sniffing around… Through the practice of body awareness she describes in the book, we learn to lovingly call our puppy-mind back to sit quietly at our side for longer and longer periods.

If the mind is a puppy, mine was a Border Collie this morning. Border Collies are herding dogs. They have a clear idea of How Things Should Be, and they actively work to make them be that way. If the cows get out, into Some Place Cows Should Not Be, a Border Collie will get upset, and will go herd them back into their pasture.

This morning, in that first simple walking-circling-settling exercise, a space that opened up on the mat in front of me called for circling to the right. So I did. My Border Collie puppy-mind was instantly beside itself! “Woof, woof, woof!” We had just circled to the right the previous time, so we were (according to the pattern I did not know I had adopted) supposed to circle the left this time!

Thanks to the work we had just done on getting into our bodies I had done what there was to do. I was able to notice, from a somewhat detached perspective, that my mind was going off about it. I had not thought about it first, and then rejected the option of circling to the right. I just circled.

It was a little thing, tiny, but significant. I felt the space. I moved without checking in with my mind. I noticed my thoughts, but they carried no weight. I was thrilled.

One point Sensei brought up that stuck with me is that we can’t “stop thinking so much.” The mind just goes on thinking. Thinking about trying to think less doesn’t make for less thinking. Instead, Sensei suggested that we focus on being present in the body.

The exercises at the start of the class were to help us get into our bodies. I should make a habit of doing them every morning. We’ve done them before, in other workshops, and they have a profound effect on me. I find I’m more open and aware, quieter, more balanced… It’s a state that’s incompatible with frantic rushing about. Time moves more slowly. I’m able to more fully experience whatever it is I’m doing at the moment. Peripheral vision expands. It’s the calm that comes from being in nature. It’s a state I usually only get to after a week-long vacation. I’d like to get there more.

Near the end of the workshop, when my partner and I were waiting our turn on the mat in front of the rest of the group, there was a minor injury. Everything stopped, people went to help, and ice packs were brought out. The person was made comfortable on the mat where they could continue watching, and the next pair was called up.

I noticed an interesting thing: Whatever that state was that I’d been in for the past hour and a half was shattered. I had been feeling relaxed, confident, and looking forward to our turn to “play” just moments before. But now suddenly found I was right back into thinking about what techniques I’d do, and worrying that I’d freeze up. And there was something physical, too. Some new awareness, or something missing… I’m not sure. It was like snapping out of hypnosis and wondering why you’re standing on a stage in front of all these people, holding a microphone.

The good news is that, having just been in a better place, I recognized that I was not there now. Sitting there, I went back to the exercises from the start of class, feeling the mat supporting me, doing an inventory of tensions and sensations throughout my body. I was mostly able to get back to that place.

You know how it is when you crack open a beer after a long day? The “pssst” when the cap lets go? The cold condensation and wet glass and label against your palm? You lift the bottle, and immediately relax a little. “Ahhhh… Life is good…” Your problems seem a little less troubling, and your friends seem a little more dear. The beer has done nothing at this point. It’s all you. A conditioned response. You can jump into that zone on just a few cues. I have the same kind of experience when I step onto the mat before classes in the evening. Everything else from the day drifts off on the breeze, and there is only the present reality of the dojo. This is something I’d like to explore with getting to the state of being that was evoked in the workshop. With practice, it should be available more quickly, naturally. We have the skill to make that shift. We do it automatically and unintentionally all the time. I’m going to play with doing it intentionally.

I spent the rest of the day quietly doing errands and chores, reflecting, feeling what there was to feel, and wondering in gratitude at the privilege of working with such a gifted teacher and guide. I am always amazed at what can be experienced in only a short two hours. Often these workshops take days to sink in. I can still feel the energy resonating. There’s more there.

Today we had exams for children and 6th Kyu candidates. Everyone...

Sat, 20 Mar 2010 22:05:00 -0700

Today we had exams for children and 6th Kyu candidates. Everyone passed! Since I wasn’t testing, I was free to do a little photography.

Here’s a link to a slideshow on Flickr:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lindaeskin/sets/72157623660806136/show/

I got the book “Holding the Center - Sanctuary in a Time...

Sat, 13 Mar 2010 14:12:00 -0800

I got the book “Holding the Center - Sanctuary in a Time of Confusion” by Richard Strozzi-Heckler recently. I finally picked it up to begin reading it last night, and randomly opened it to this paragraph, in the chapter on Teachership:

“The kanji for sensei is a man leading an ox by a nose ring. This indicates that through wisdom and intelligence a teacher is able to guide even that which is difficult and resistant. Sen depicts the earth giving birth to a plant, which in turn yields a flower or fruit. From this image we are reminded that life comes from life, that learning and growth come from a living transmission. Sei is often spoken of as Heaven, Human, and Earth united to create something new and useful. With the symbols placed together, sensei or teacher is someone who has more experience than us, whose consciousness is more expanded, who has walked before us on the path that we are now on, and who embodies a vision of the world that is more powerful than the one we now live in. Sensei is able to guide students on the steps that are necessary for them to gain proficiency in a specific discourse. A teacher is someone willing to cultivate our own life so that it will bear fruit.”

While the explanation of the symbols escapes me, the sentiment rings true. The entire chapter is a very interesting look at what it is to be a teacher.

Questions for My Teacher's Teacher

Sun, 07 Mar 2010 23:17:00 -0800

My teacher’s teacher is coming to our dojo in April. My teacher, Dave Goldberg Sensei, is a student of Robert Nadeau Shihan. Nadeau Shihan will be leading a seminar at Aikido of San Diego, April 9-11, 2010.

Nadeau Shihan, 7th Dan, trained in Japan with O Sensei in the 1960s. He has been teaching Aikido since 1965. He runs two dojo: Aikido of Mountain View, and City Aikido in San Francisco. His students have included several of my favorite Aikido authors: George Leonard, Wendy Palmer, and Richard Strozzi-Heckler Sensei. He is a founder and division head (Division 3) of the California Aikido Association. It is an honor to have him come to work with us.

I had the privilege of training with Nadeau Shihan last year, before I’d even tested for 6th kyu, and very much enjoy and “get” his approach to teaching. I’m really looking forward to training with him again, now that I have a tiny bit more experience and perspective.

This year, Friday evening will be a question and answer session. We’ve been invited to submit questions. I thought it might be interesting to share my questions here. If you want the answers, come to the seminar. Not that all, or any, of these will be asked, of course. Lots of people will be asking questions. This is just my unfiltered list - the things I wonder about.*

Your Experience of Aikido

Q: What brought you to Aikido?

Q: Is there something in your background that made you particularly receptive to, or inquisitive about, what has been available for you in Aikido?

Q: Did you find support and validation in Aikido for who you were already, or did Aikido change you?

Q: Is there something you wish you’d discovered or realized earlier in your Aikido training that would’ve helped you grow or learn? Or something you actually did discover or realize, that fundamentally changed your approach or understanding?

Or perhaps is there something you hope your students can grasp (or let go of), that would help them? Is there something you see your students struggling with, that you wish they could just *get* more easily?

Q: Are there activities you find to be complementary to your Aikido practice? (Meditation, gardening, …) Would you recommend them to others, or does everyone have to find their own way?

Q: In your experience of the larger “I” knowing who you are (such as why you love “junk,” or love movement), were those sudden realizations, that you immediately saw (“Aha!) to be true? Or did you go through a lot of seeking and questioning before you discovered what was so for you?

Q: Do you continue to make discoveries about yourself through your practice of Aikido? How has that changed over time?

Aiki

Q: What kind of change of consciousness, or development of consciousness, is possible through Aikido? What might that look like, in people’s lives? In a community? In the world?

Q: How does Aikido work? How much is mechanics, psychology, emotion, spiritual, energetic? Or do those characterizations even make sense in the context of Aikido?

The Art of Aikido

Q: If Aikido is a way of helping to bring peace and happiness to the world, what is the process by which you see that happening?

Q: How has Aikido changed since you first came to it? Has it expanded and strengthened? Or lost focus, gone off the tracks, or become diluted?

Q: What are your hopes for the future of Aikido, and how might that future come about?

Teaching, Sensei, and Students

Q: Do you see a correlation between the reasons people come to Aikido, and their likelihood to stay with the practice? Or maybe, does it matter why people walk through the door of the dojo, or just that they do?

Q: What do you see as the best way to teach Aikido? Does the teacher convey knowledge directly, simply demonstrate, or support the student somehow in making discoveries on their own?

Q: What do you see as a Sensei’s place in a student’s life? Instructor of practical skills? Role model? Spiritual guide? Counselor? Parental figure? Friend?

Q: What do you hope your students (or students of Aikido in general) will get from practicing Aikido?

Q: What do you hope your students (or students of Aikido in general) might contribute to Aikido?

Your Experience of O Sensei

Q: How would you characterize your relationship with O Sensei?

Q: Did O Sensei make requests of you (and of others, if you know), like “Go back to the U.S. and teach this”? Was he teaching his students to teach, necessarily?

Q: You have said that O Sensei had a process by which he could quickly jump into a bigger / higher level of himself. Could you tell us about the nature of that process? (Was it a physical practice? Meditation or prayer?)

Q: Do you think that Aikido today is (or is becoming) what O Sensei envisioned for it? Is it growing and spreading as he’d hoped? Affecting humanity as he’d intended? Better / worse / different?

Q: If you could spend an evening talking with O Sensei now, what would ask him? Or tell him?

In thinking about these questions, it struck me that the world might be a much different place for many, many people, had a certain young Robert Nadeau not somehow connected with Aikido. Just another example of how one pebble can make waves affecting an entire ocean.

*It occurred to me the day after posting these questions (and sending them off to Sensei) that I’d be interested in hearing others’ answers to them as well. If you teach Aikido, or have just practiced for a long time (however you define that), please feel free to copy some or all of my questions, and answer them on your own blog or Web site. I’d appreciate a mention, and please let me know where I can go to read your answers. Thanks!

Photo

Fri, 05 Mar 2010 15:38:01 -0800

Elevator Speech: What is Aikido?

Fri, 05 Mar 2010 00:14:00 -0800

Every so often someone will ask me “So, what’s this Aikido thing that you do?” They may have some idea that’s it’s “kind of like karate,” but they rarely know anything more. I usually end up stammering something about it being “a martial art, sort of like Tai Chi, but Japanese, and not really like Tai Chi, but there’s no punching and kicking. There’s this blending, and going with the energy, and… Oh heck, just come watch a class some time.” Pathetic.

So I’ve been thinking that I should come up with an Aikido elevator speech, for just such occasions. An “elevator speech,” if you haven’t heard that term, is a very brief, clear statement, usually about what you do professionally, or what your company does. Something you can say when you talk to someone for a few seconds in an elevator.

There are a few tricks to an elevator speech. Obviously, it has to be short. It has to be engaging, easy to understand, and memorable. Less obviously, but most important, it needs to evoke in the listener the correct understanding. That does not mean that your explanation needs to be complete, or even accurate. It means that you have to say something that causes the right picture to form in their mind, taking into account their experience, vocabulary, and state of mind. You might even need to consider their age, gender, cultural background, etc. You have to speak in a way that they get it.

Let’s look at the answer to “So, what do you do?” from one of my past careers. I was “part owner, and operations manager, of an industrial equipment distributorship selling fueling system components to major oil companies and repair contractors. We sold leak detection systems, day tanks for emergency generators, bulk fueling systems for marine and aviation applications, and…” Well, you see, your eyes have glazed over already, haven’t they? You probably stopped paying attention at “operations manager,” or certainly by the time you got to “fueling system components.” And you almost certainly have no idea what a day tank is, unless you run a high rise or hospital. By trying to be complete and accurate (not to mention sounding all businessy and official), I have entirely failed at communicating what I did. I may also have left the listener feeling stupid for not understanding me.

What I ultimately came up with, which worked very well, was “I run a warehouse that sells equipment for gas stations, y’know, like pumps, hoses, and nozzles, and really big underground tanks.” Now they have something they can relate to - things they can picture. They know what a warehouse is, and probably have some idea of what running one is about. They go to gas stations all the time. They have experience with gas pumps. They can easily imagine really big underground tanks, even though they may never have thought about them before. And I said it all in a very natural (for me) vocabulary so it didn’t sound like something invented at a company meeting about elevator speeches. Presto! In about 7 seconds they knew exactly what I did. They got it. They felt smart for understanding, and sometimes even were brave enough to ask a question or two.

Incidentally, those big things you drive up to are really called “dispensers” - the “pumps” are down there with the underground tanks, where you never see them. But nobody knows or cares about that. We’re not trying to say accurate things, we’re trying to help the listener create an accurate picture. Just call them pumps. You can explain later, if they care.

An elevator speech about Aikido, then, might need to address preconceptions the listener could have from watching action films, or knowing someone who did another martial art when they were a kid. It should avoid using Japanese. It might need to reassure someone who thinks you could be prone to violence, or encourage someone who’s thinking of trying it out themselves. And your words should help them imagine what Aikido might look like. Images are very memorable. Use color, size, numbers - anything to help them see it in their minds.

Aikido is a martial art based on classical Japanese arts and Samurai traditions.

In the first 5 seconds we’ve explained a lot, and with a little luck we’ve grabbed their attention and imagination. OK, it’s a martial art. That probably confirms what they were thinking already. A Japanese martial art. OK, cool. With roots in classical arts. Oh…? They may not know what classical Japanese martial arts are, but it sounds good - and it’s even accurate. (This is not the time to start explaining about daito ryu and O Sensei.) They’ve almost certainly heard of Samurai, and have some idea what they were about. They probably think that’s cool. And there’s something there about tradition. So far, so good.

We wear white gis, and we all practice together on mats in a big dojo.

This is a little bit of an easy break, after that intense first sentence. A mental resting place. They may not know the word “gi” but in the same breath we’ve told them it’s something white that we wear. They will probably have seen enough movies to know what we mean. (Yes, I know they are called gi, or dogi, with no “s”, but like the “gas pumps” we need to be understood right now. Worry about teaching them Japanese later.) Likewise, even if they don’t know the word dojo, we’ve told them it’s a big space with mats. They know what a high school gym looks like, so they can picture this, too. They may even feel a little smarter, because they’ve just understood us perfectly well, even though we used some unfamiliar words. And they know that we all practice together. Not only does it help paint the picture of the physical environment, there’s also a nice ring of community in it.

We use weapons and empty-hand techniques to learn how to resolve conflict fluidly and effectively, instead of reacting out of fear or tension.

Weapons are important in the practice of Aikido, but I’m mentioning them here for another reason: Knowing that we practice with weapons may help counter any “wimpy” impressions they may have about Aikido. We also have “effective” in there. If you are talking to someone who seems a little cautious about the whole “martial arts are scary” thing, just start with “We learn how to resolve conflict…” Without really needing to understand any details or philosophy of the practice, we’ve got “resolve conflict, fluidity, and effectiveness” overcoming “reaction, fear, and tension.” Who wouldn’t want that? And again, it’s accurate.

That might be enough for them to absorb right now. We’ve explained a little, piqued their curiosity, and we haven’t overstayed our welcome. Here’s what we have:

Aikido is a martial art based on classical Japanese arts and Samurai traditions. We wear white gis, and we all practice together on mats in a big dojo. We use weapons and empty-hand techniques to learn how to resolve conflict fluidly and effectively, instead of reacting out of fear or tension.

Stop there, and see if they have any questions. Remember to keep answers very short and simple.

You’ll want to come up with your own elevator speech, in your words. Just remember to follow the guidelines above. Speak so the listener understands. Give them what they need to paint the picture in their mind.

If they are interested in knowing more, invite them to watch a class at your dojo! They’d likely be shy about coming, and afraid they’d be out of place or in the way, so let them know it’s a common occurrence, and that they’d be welcome:

Come with me Friday night and watch a class. People do it all the time. We have chairs for visitors, and sometimes have two or three people checking it out. New students are even required to watch a class before they can join, so it wouldn’t be weird at all.

I’d love to hear your Aikido elevator speech! If you’ve come up with a good, quick explanation, please share it in the blog comments on AikiWeb, on Facebook, or when I see you at the dojo!

O Sensei is quoted, in The Art of Peace, as saying “No...

Mon, 22 Feb 2010 14:58:00 -0800

O Sensei is quoted, in The Art of Peace, as saying “No matter how heavily armed your opponent is, you can use the Art of Peace to disarm him (or her). When someone comes in anger, greet him with a smile. That is the highest kind of martial art.”

This video shows so clearly how our actions, little things each of us do individually, can affect the world. A well-timed smile or hug can change someone just a little. They can affect those around them, and so on. Juan Mann, in the video, maybe affected a few thousand people directly. Over 10,000 signed his petition. Over 100,000 commented on the video on YouTube. Over 56 million people have watched just this version of it. 56 million!

Much of what we do is like dropping a pebble in an ocean. We may never notice the affect of the waves we create, but we do create them. Practice peace.

sigh

Mon, 22 Feb 2010 00:15:26 -0800

Sunday at midnight…
Aikido not ‘til Tuesday.
Forty-two long hours.

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Mon, 15 Feb 2010 15:34:00 -0800

I'm Destroying Aikido.

Mon, 15 Feb 2010 15:17:00 -0800

The comments on YouTube, about my 5th kyu exam, got off to a predictable start with “good luck in a street fight no offense” [sic].

From looking at the person’s recent comments on other people’s videos, this is one of the nicest things they’ve said to anyone. Most of their other comments are downright vulgar.

My reply: “None taken. In my 47 years I’ve never been in a street fight, and don’t intend to go around starting any scraps in pubs. :-) My practice of Aikido has nothing to do with fighting.”

That apparently hit a nerve with someone in Poland, who said (ellipses his - I did not edit this): ”..and that this the reason this unique, interesting and demanding martial art is dying….cause people like You practice aikido with firm belief that it has nothing to do with fighting..sad…”

I could just delete their comments, but what the heck, let’s see where this goes. I’m sure I won’t change their minds, but others coming along and reading the comments might find the discussion interesting. I responded:

“Aikido is not dying, never mind being killed off by ‘people like me.’ Yes, it comes from centuries of fighting arts, and yes, it is effective. But O Sensei did not create it to help people become better street fighters.

The goal of most non-sport martial arts is not fighting. It’s interesting that even in my video comments field you are trying to start one. If you want to fight, find others who want to fight, and have a great time. I’m not opposed to that, it’s just not what I’m up to.”

I’m pretty sure that won’t be the end of it. There are a lot of people who are certain that becoming a better fighter is the primary, and only valid, purpose for practicing martial arts, and they typically try to promote that view through rudeness and bullying of anyone who practices the arts for any other reason. I wonder if fencing, kendo, tai chi, and archery catch the same kind of flak? Dressage actually does, on occasion, when people point out that a not-quite-perfectly-responsive horse could mean one’s death on the battlefield.

I am no scholar on the subject of martial arts, but in my very limited experience I’ve not met any serious student or teacher who felt that fighting was the goal. Engaging in fights is never a desirable outcome. But if you must defend yourself or others, of course you should be able to.

So far, I’ve mostly been able to. Perhaps it’s whatever confidence and presence I gained from a summer Judo class in 3rd grade, 6 months of Tang Soo Do in high school, or a very physical self-defense course in college. Maybe it was my practical, moral upbringing in a stable home. Could be a bit of street smarts from walking, biking, skateboarding, and taking the bus everywhere, and working a paper route for 3 years, as a girl, alone. Or knowing I can handle myself coordinating convoys of rigs rescuing livestock in the face of raging wildfires. I don’t go looking for danger or confrontation, but I don’t run, either. Attackers love weak, fearful targets. I’ve never been weak or fearful. I’ve been jumped and beaten once, by a predatory gang in junior high school, but I’ve never gotten into a fight, on the street or otherwise. I consider avoiding fights to be the bigger victory than being proficient in winning them.

According to Kevin Blok Kyoshi (7th Dan in Yoshinkai Aikido), weak people cannot enforce peace. Blok Sensei teaches defensive tactics for police officers, and non-physical crisis intervention. He is an expert on the effective, practical application of Aikido. But even with that background (or maybe because of it) he speaks of Aikido as a path to peace and happiness. In his interview for the “Aikido - The Way of Harmony” podcast (which I highly recommend listening to), he speaks at length about bliss. He says that true budo is about love. (Listen especially starting at the 43 minute mark.) “You want to change the world, to make it a better place.” … “It starts with you. The center of your universe is you. Don’t go to try to make other people happy, and blissful, and loving, and caring, if you can’t do it with yourself.”

George Ledyard Sensei put it plainly on his Web site, www.aikieast.com:

Aikido
It’s not about fighting.
It’s about not fighting.

Aikido takes a disproportionate amount of criticism, but the goals of promoting harmony and not fighting are not unique to Aikido.

In high school I practiced Tang Soo Do - Moo Duk Kwan (a “hard” Korean art), for all of 6 months or so. I came to it to learn how to be violent, effectively. Instead I learned how not to be. Yes, there was sparring (which is great fun), and tournaments (including the requisite smashing of concrete blocks, demonstrated by the Master of our school), but it was made clear from the outset that we weren’t to be engaged in any fighting outside of class. Self control and good character were the goals. It was an art in the budo tradition, even if it included organized competitive fighting.

I still have my notebook from 30 years ago. In it, along with several lists of Key Points, Principles, and Creeds, copied earnestly by hand from the sign on the dojang wall, is the Tang Soo Do Pledge:

We pledge to contribute to the happiness of the human race with the sword and the pen, using any ability we possess in pursuit of justice for everyone, attempting to unite the perfect harmony and further the traditions of Tang Soo Do.

I took it that pledge seriously then, and I still do.

I learned decades ago to resolve conflict without physical violence, intimidation, or rude behavior. I came to Aikido for a lot of reasons, none of which were about becoming a better fighter, or even for self defense. I wanted to learn to relax and breathe, to have better balance, and to be able to stay focused and take effective action in the face of overwhelming physical threat. I am getting those things from my practice, but there is so much more available.

I am learning there are a lot of kinds of “fighting.” Fighting what is. Fighting what I feel. Fighting who others are. Resisting. I still have a lot of fight in me. I’m not practicing Aikido to develop that, I’m practicing Aikido to let that go.

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*sigh*

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I'm Destroying Aikido.

sigh