Grab My Wrist

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!

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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.

There are many ways to travel one path.

Mon, 15 Feb 2010 01:09:30 -0800

There are many ways to travel one path.

- Tech Note: Improved Format -

Sun, 14 Feb 2010 22:44:00 -0800

Hi Loyal Readers (all 8-10 of you)!

Some of you have pointed out that the style sheet (CSS) for my blog was pushing the left navigation area off the screen in Firefox and Safari. I have finally gotten around to fixing it (I hope). I also expanded the content area of each post so the photos appear full size (500 pixels wide). I’ve tried it in IE8, Firefox, Chrome, and Safari on my iPhone, and it looks good so far. Please let me know if you see anything wacky.

Many thanks for your patience, and for reading!
Linda

The other day in a weapons class Sensei wanted to work with...

Thu, 11 Feb 2010 23:35:00 -0800

The other day in a weapons class Sensei wanted to work with bokken, and before class was considering what to focus on that day. The class ended up being an intensive little workshop, essentially, with lots of emphasis on breathing, correct technique, and incorporating weapons into familiar techniques, such as ikkyo.

Sensei’s classes are frequently, no, usually, like that. ”Just a regular weeknight class” is never “just” anything.

After class I usually thank Sensei, if he’s not busy talking to someone. ”Thank you, Sensei,” I say, adding something like “I really enjoyed the class,” or “that was really interesting.” Even, maybe especially, when the class was challenging, or even frustrating.

It’s polite to thank your teacher, and sometimes I feel like it might come across as only that. Just being polite. But there’s nothing contrived about my gratitude. I deeply mean every word. (And I’ve told him so.)

Classes are always inspired, never rote or perfunctory. Familiar techniques are presented in fresh ways, new subtleties explored. Sensei considers the response his words might elicit in a given student, knows just how much pressure or breathing room each person might need that day. He gauges the mood and abilities of the assembled students, and tailors the content of the class accordingly, on the spot. He sees endless detail in the mass of movement on the mat and offers strategic corrections, all while planning the next technique, managing the energy of the group, and keeping track of the time.

It all looks perfectly natural. For Sensei, it probably is. Just like it’s perfectly natural for a hawk to swoop at blinding speed through the branches of a tree, appearing on the other side with dinner in its talons. Perfectly natural from a lifetime of practice, and amazing to witness. It is as interesting to observe the teaching as it is to learn and practice the Aikido.

But as a student each class is a tremendous opportunity - to improve my Aikido of course, but also to examine my way of being, and to discover how I might take Aikido with me into the world. I am consistently blown away by the care and attention that goes into each class, and I am grateful for every opportunity to train under such a remarkable teacher.

Domo arigato gozaimashita, Sensei.

——-

A note from the next morning after I wrote the above post:

I just went out to feed, and a hawk flew between the trees, at eye level, right in front of me, and across to the neighbor’s yard where it scattered a flock of small birds that were sitting in a tree.

I haven’t seen a hawk hunting in my yard in years.

There’s something really weird about the universe.

If you don’t already read it, you might like to check out...

Wed, 10 Feb 2010 13:28:22 -0800

If you don’t already read it, you might like to check out my sensei’s blog, at http://www.goldbergsensei.com/: ”Reflections, insights, and relatively unbridled thoughts on Aikido, life, and personal development from Aikido of San Diego’s Dave Goldberg Sensei, 5th Dan.”

What I meant to do

Tue, 09 Feb 2010 23:37:00 -0800

If you read my post about my 5th Kyu test you may recall that when I sat down at the end of it I thought “Darn it. That wasn’t how I meant to do that!” It felt mechanical, uncommitted. Sensei’s feedback was that it looked like I was “being careful.” That wasn’t how I meant to do my test, and yet… That’s exactly what I did. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about that since Saturday.

Aikido provides a laboratory, in which to learn about who and how we are in many areas of life. Or maybe a mirror, in which we can see ourselves more clearly. Interactions can reflect how we are with authority, trust, risk, arrogance, and so on. We can learn what scares us, what makes us happy, where we shut down, or where we step up.

It often takes several days for a lesson to sink in, for me. I’ll remember a phrase or an expression, and the significance of it will come to me, finally. I suppose it’s similar to working out a problem, and a whole new way of looking at it pops into your head as you’re walking to get the mail.

I had such a moment this morning, out feeding Rainy and the donkeys. I was rushing because I was running late. I meant to clean the pen before a rainstorm arrived, but I didn’t have time. I was going to get up at 5:30, so I would have enough time, but I hit snooze until after 6:00. I planned to get to bed early, but didn’t. I had intended to get to work on time, by 8:00, but I was late… again.

I had been thinking, since Saturday, about why I was being careful during my test, and at other times in Aikido, and in other areas. That’s still a valid question, worth exploring.

But another one that didn’t come to me until this morning is this: Why do I intend to do one thing, and then do another? All. The. Time.

It’s a good question; one I will ponder as I brush my teeth and get to bed, late, again.

"Riding a horse is not a gentle hobby, to be picked up and laid down like a game of solitaire. It is..."

Mon, 08 Feb 2010 22:00:24 -0800

“Riding a horse is not a gentle hobby, to be picked up and laid down like a game of solitaire. It is a grand passion. It seizes a person whole and, once it has done so, he will have to accept that his life will be radically changed.”

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Just another way in which horsemanship and Aikido are similar.

My 5th Kyu Test See the previous post for my thoughts on this.

Sat, 06 Feb 2010 20:10:00 -0800

My 5th Kyu Test

See the previous post for my thoughts on this.

5th Kyu test & beyond

Sat, 06 Feb 2010 15:45:00 -0800

First, I passed. For those into belt colors, that means I’m still a white belt. I’ll be posting the video (which I have not seen yet) later today.

I wasn’t worried about passing, though. I was more interested in doing well. Or at least doing my best.

I did OK. Only one or two brain cramps on techniques, and I didn’t shut down during jiyuwaza. A few minor “D’oh!” moments, but nothing horrid.

On the good side, I knew the names of everything, and the basics of how each technique went. Watching the 4th kyu test (the next one I’ll have to take) I realized that I know those names and techniques, too, basically. And even a lot of the ones on the 3rd kyu test. I felt reasonably relaxed and present, and was able to breathe and focus pretty well.

On the room-for-improvement side… I really felt like something was missing, like I was “demonstrating how the techniques go” instead of *doing* the techniques. Like kind of half-singing a song to get across what the lyrics are, as opposed to really putting it out there like you mean to be heard. It felt half-hearted, uncommitted, low energy… something like that. When I sat back down in the line afterward, while watching the others, I knew I hadn’t done my best, but I didn’t know why. I wished I could’ve had a second chance, to get up there and do it like I had intended to do it. “Darn it. That wasn’t how I meant to do that!” Oh well.

An interesting life lesson there… How often do I - do we - start out with the intention to really knock one out of the park, and then fade into “wait, that’s not how I meant to do that” territory? Not for lack of skill, but from some momentary lethargy or lack of focus. Or maybe it’s fear of trying, really whole-heartedly Going For It, and falling flat anyway.

I didn’t knock it out of the park. I’m not proud of how I did, from a performance standpoint. But on the whole I’m OK with it. It was diagnostic, revealing. I know now where I stand. My perception of how I did on the test was consistent with the feedback I got. Sensei said it seemed like I was “being careful.” I’m sure I was. I usually am a little tentative, a little light (not soft), and uncommitted, when practicing. Going through the motions.

The reason I’ve been conscious of for that is that I’m not sure of the technique - not sure I’m doing it right - and that I’m afraid that if I do it wrong I’ll hurt my partner (particularly on things where one could bend joints in unnatural ways). I have also felt a general need to refrain from being forceful. I am reasonably strong, and it’s easy for me to slip into using strength to try to “make” a technique work. I am more comfortable with more powerful technique (on both sides of the partnership). It’s more familiar, and more fun. But I’ve been careful to try to keep that turned way down, to focus on finesse over force. Maybe, with some basic competency now, I can judiciously and correctly incorporate power into my Aikido.

Another reason I’ve just seen today is that you can’t “really” fail if you aren’t “really” trying. It’s time to start really trying; doing Aikido like I mean it, all the time. By that I don’t mean being stronger, harder, and more forceful with people. Just committed, honest, and real. Really strike. Really feel the energy. Really take Uke’s balance. Really do the pin. Really throw them. And if that means making some blunders and looking like a goof along the way, so be it.

New goal: Do it “the way I meant to do it” every time. Really.

——-

Several people commented elsewhere about what I said about incorporating “power” into my Aikido. Here’s my thought on that the next day:

The word “power” kept coming back to me today, and it’s not really the right word. Maybe more like decisiveness, firmness, leadership, sincerity, committed, intentional… Well, something like that.

Downs & Ups of Exam Prep

Fri, 05 Feb 2010 16:03:00 -0800

My exam for 5th kyu is Saturday morning - tomorrow. When I first started working with my mentor a month ago we began with a sort of diagnostic run-through of the exam. I knew all the technique names, and basically what they were. There was plenty of room for correction and refinement, but I wasn’t completely lost. I felt like I was on a pretty good trajectory for being ready by exam day.

Then in mid-January I did a seminar, which was great fun, and a tremendous experience. I loved it, but it was exhausting, and dumped a whole lot of new information into my little 6th-kyu brain.

The next couple of weeks were difficult all around, and left my confidence a bit battered. I couldn’t seem to do anything right in class. Friends on Facebook were commenting that my Aikido posts had been negative lately.

I accumulated a dozen or so small injuries and ailments - a jammed thumb, a knee that didn’t like to bend, sore shoulders and neck muscles, a stomped foot, assorted bruises and tight muscles, etc. I found myself stiff and guarded. Lingering symptoms from a cold in December returned, and my breathing was getting clogged up during class. One night I must have been dehydrated, and whited out (and sat right back down) when I stood up quickly from seiza.

Last Wednesday I had the worst bout of vertigo since starting Aikido. The world was spinning. I felt seasick and was tipping over and falling into things. Feeling grounded isn’t even a possibility in that state.

Vertigo also causes a cognitive hit, from all that brain CPU being used just to navigate in the world, I guess. It’s like the brain fog that rolls in when one has a cold. When I worked with my mentor last Friday, terminology I had down solid a month ago was lost in the fog. Techniques I’ve done well enough a hundred times were incomprehensible. I felt overwhelmed by how much I had left to learn.

There were other little things. Work seemed to be a morass of interruptions, distractions, and conflicting priorities. I couldn’t seem to get caught up on chores at home. One night a car easily going 100 mph very nearly rear-ended me on the freeway. The universe was not being kind.

Then on Sunday I participated in one of Sensei’s “In Focus” workshops, this time on ukemi. These workshops push us a bit. They are always revealing, and usually fun. While some of the exercises in this one were indeed fun, on the whole the experience was, for me, profoundly discouraging. The toes on my stomped foot were numb. I’d rolled funny on one shoulder, so my whole arm hurt and my fingers were tingling. I was told, and could see in the video, what I was doing wrong, but couldn’t feel it. It felt right, but wasn’t. Without accurate perceptions how can one make corrections? I’d had a similar experience, where I could not grasp *how* to learn something else in the past, and in that case I just give up entirely. So running into this particular personal brick wall was hard. Giving up Aikido is not an option, but I couldn’t see my way around the wall. A very perceptive fellow student gave me a bit of a pep talk (or a kick in the butt), but it was still a difficult day.

Less than a week to my test, and it felt like my Aikido, barely held together with duct tape and baling twine on a good day, was falling apart. Sunday night my status on Facebook said “Linda Eskin is looking for the lesson, hard.”

By Monday morning I decided I had to dig myself out of my rut. I remembered to take my allergy meds so I could breathe. I drank plenty of water, and walked at lunch. I stocked up on Gatorade and bananas to keep dehydration and muscle spasms at bay. I skipped going to the dojo to stay home to rest and heal, and to really study. I watched videos of each technique, reviewed my old descriptions of each, and wrote out new ones. When anything wasn’t clear, I noted that, so I could ask about it.

On Tuesday I visualized the whole test over and over. As I fed Rainy and the donkeys I heard the words Sensei will say, let myself be aware of the little crowd of parents there to watch their kids’ tests, felt what the cool blue mat will feel like, smelled how the mid-morning air will smell when it comes in across the little stream out behind the dojo, and heard the birds singing in the reeds. I saw and felt each technique in picture-perfect detail. I ran through it again as I got ready for work. Once more while I walked at lunch. And again as I drove to the dojo.

Tuesday night I did both classes. We reviewed all the techniques I was having trouble with, and did some great work on jiyuwaza. After class I got to practice with my mentor and with my fellow 5th Kyu candidate. We both did the whole test, plus jiyuwaza with each other. We got video of everything, and posted it so we could review it during the week. I felt so much better! Not quite ready, but confident that I could be ready by Saturday. Back on track!

Wednesday was another day off from classes. I iced and rested the ouchy parts, studied and visualized the techniques, and went out to dinner with my dear husband, Michael. Ended the day feeling more settled.

Yesterday morning, Thursday, I put together a playlist of positive, high-energy music that I love, and listened to that while driving. In the middle of a long day of meetings at work I managed to get outdoors once, sit quietly, and do the whole test again. The weapons class in the evening was very calming and reassuring. I may not be any better at weapons than at anything else, but I find them easier to comprehend. So weapons classes generally leave me feeling like I might have a bit of a clue about this stuff. I stayed late to watch some of the advanced class, write some notes and be sure I had all my questions down to ask my mentor on Friday. The class was doing some really interesting work on feeling shared energy and going with it. I’m very glad I stayed. I left feeling quietly excited, happy, and very grateful to be able to train with Sensei and my dojo mates.

Tonight is a 90-minute class with Sensei, and then a full run-through of the exam with my mentor. I’m really looking forward to both. All I have to do tomorrow is show up, relax, breathe, and have fun.

Great Trip, Happy to be Home

Wed, 27 Jan 2010 00:48:00 -0800

Long time, no blog post! After the recent seminar, circumstances promptly dumped me back into my normal life. Work was busy. The weather was insane, with the most dramatic storms we’ve seen in years. The power was unreliable for days. Rainy the horse, and the donkeys, have needed extra tending with all the rain and muck. And after one 6-hour power failure our refrigerator broke for good, which meant an evening throwing out everything, and filling an ice chest with enough to get by on. It’s been like camping in our own house. On top of that, I’ve been training all I can, because my 5th kyu test is coming up a week from Saturday.

Now work is settled back into a good steady pace. The rain is coming down more gently. The new fridge arrives tomorrow, and we’re making a restocking run in the evening. Training for my test is proceeding apace. Almost back to a normal routine.

For the past week I’ve been wanting to post something to sum up my experience of the Aikido Bridge Friendship Seminar. It was such a long, intense, diverse, and new experience it’s hard to know where to begin, so I’ll start at the end.

I’ve lived in San Diego County all my life. It’s a lovely place. People from all over come here for vacations. Whenever I’ve flown back into San Diego on a commercial flight there have been people visibly and vocally excited about coming here, many for the first time. “Yay! We’re in San Diego!!!” It doesn’t matter where I’ve been, what I’ve seen, what I’ve been doing, when I come back here I have that same feeling. It’s not only that it’s familiar and comfortable, it’s really a beautiful, rich, amazing part of the world. I’m very lucky to live here, and happy to be home.

Coming back to my own dojo after the seminar, which actually was my vacation, was a similar experience. I feel so fortunate to have a great “home” to return to. Tonight’s classes just reinforced that feeling once again. I’m very lucky to live here, and happy to be home.

The seminar was the first Aikido training I’d done outside of events with my own dojo. The facility was lovely, and the event (in its 4th year, I believe?) was well-run. Thank you again, to Jeff Sodeman Sensei and everyone at Jiai Aikido who made the seminar possible. Everyone I met was friendly, helpful, and serious about training.

The teachers were amazing, of course, kind, often funny, and very generous about connecting with students at all levels. I had the privilege of working with each of them several times, and tried my best to stay present and really get what I was feeling. Ikeda Sensei was like grabbing a cloud - just nothing to hold onto. It seems that the wonder of this stuff working never grows old for him. Several times he allowed that “It’s weird!” Many of Doran Sensei’s techniques included what I think of as the kind of misdirection used by magicians. He often taught with a very charming sense of mischief. On the last day I and another white belt (just there for that day, I think) were trying to work out the details of some seemingly impossible technique, when Tissier Sensei stopped to offer us a few words of encouragement. Such a gracious man.

I’ve never done anything so physically and mentally intense, for so long, before. I was very glad for all the Aikido classes I’d been doing, the walking at lunch, the time on the elliptical trainer, and heavy yard work. I came home utterly exhausted (but exhilarated) each night. I had told my husband, Michael, to basically consider me to be “out of town” for the duration; to make his own plans for the evenings. That was a good call. I had just enough energy left to throw my dogi in the wash, feed the critters, shower, eat something, set the alarm clock, and collapse into bed.

I cannot come close to remembering everything we covered in those 5 days. I certainly can’t describe it with any accuracy. Here are some of the impressions that particularly struck me:

Tissier Sensei - Emphasized economy of motion. His speed was incredible. There were techniques he demonstrated “slowly” and some parts where just blurs, they happened so fast. He also worked with us on looking where we were going (for instance, to a point on the floor, and not at Uke’s hand). This point really stuck with me for two reasons. First, it made an immediate, clear improvement in the feel of the technique when I did it. Second, it’s very familiar from horseback riding - jumping in particular. You don’t stare down at a jump as you’re going over it, you’re already looking to the next one. Your attention (or intention, really) on the next jump naturally helps guide you and your horse to it - it’s palpable. And the effect is the same in Aikido.

Ikeda Sensei - Taking Uke’s balance at the first touch. Subtle, internal waves. Giving the impression of something to grab, but nothing being there. I was able to see little glimmers of this working, like seeing the shadow of a fish in dark water. I caught a glimpse. I know it’s there, somewhere.

Doran Sensei - Lots of very sensible techniques, presented in clearly-explained chunks I could mostly manage to understand. I got it about the train coming, and getting off the track. I got it about catching the shomen strike like catching a fish on a hook. I got it about using atemi to get Uke to take their own balance, so you don’t have to.

These things were just moments. An image here or phrase there that was able to snatch up and tuck into my memory as they flew past in a hurricane of information for 5 days. There were also the guest instructors, and dozens of training partners, and new friends, who I learned so much from. It was a pretty mind-blowing experience. I’m already looking forward to going again next year.

Today was the last day of the Aikido Bridge Friendship Seminar...

Mon, 18 Jan 2010 15:43:31 -0800

Today was the last day of the Aikido Bridge Friendship Seminar 2010, at Jiai Aikido in San Diego. I’ll write up more notes another time (because our power is flickering with the arrival of a storm, and I’m going to shut the computer off).

The very short version is that it was a tremendous opportunity to see and practice a lot of Aikido, and was great fun.

If you were there, please find me on Facebook or Twitter, or even email, at linda@lindaeskin.com. I’d love to stay in touch.

More soon… :-)

I had a great time today (Sunday) at the Aikido Bridge...

Sun, 17 Jan 2010 23:50:00 -0800

I had a great time today (Sunday) at the Aikido Bridge Friendship Seminar at Jiai Aikido in San Diego. I found myself understanding a bit more, able to do a bit more, and somehow not being quite as exhausted or sore at the end of the day as I was on Saturday. Maybe one eventually gets used to training all day? LOL All in all a really enjoyable day, and I feel like I can actually apply some of what I learned.

The guest instructor this afternoon was Francis Takahashi Shihan, 7th Dan. He was very generous about working with everyone, and has a warm sense of humor. He will be holding an Intensive Practice on Saturday, February 6th in Alhambra, California. Here’s a flyer (PDF) with all the info. (Post it at your dojo!)

After the seminar tonight a really big group went out to dinner at Todai (a Japanese buffet). The photo above is of a few of us stragglers still hanging out and talking as the staff tried to close up for the night. A special shout out to Wayne. Looking forward to training with you and everyone on Monday morning.

Aikido Bridge - Saturday

Sat, 16 Jan 2010 21:47:00 -0800

Another amazing day. I’m learning a lot about attending seminars. Sit in the middle, so you can hear. Drink more water than you think you need to. Eat something at each break. And now I know that if you throw the morning’s sweaty gi in your car at lunch, all the windows will be fogged up when you go to leave in the evening.

There are a lot of levels of understanding at work. There are some things I just Do Not Get. I can’t even understand what’s being explained, never mind attempt it. There are other things I understand, conceptually, but cannot begin to do at all. Someday… Then some things I get glimmers of success, and could see being able to do them with some exploration and practice. And there there are the ones where I Really Got It, and was able to do the technique the way it was shown. Woohoo!

This morning’s sessions included a good mix of all those things. A few “duh… what” moments, and a few “aha!” moments, with a lot of everything else in between.

At lunch a few of us went to the park at the bay to take a quiet break, and just rest. We ended up with a dead battery, but luckily another friend was able to come rescue us with a jump start, and we all got back in time for the afternoon sessions, which started at 3:00.

About midway through the afternoon I was really tired, and my knee was tight from sitting around on the lunch break. I and some of the people I was working with were not catching the subtleties of whatever was being shown, and were sort of just trying stuff. I almost bowed out, figuring I was wiped, and not getting anything out of the rest of the day anyway. Maybe I could grasp it better by just watching. But then I got to work with a couple of folks who got what was going on. Their technique was great, and/but not subtle at all. I did a whole bunch of the hardest falls I’ve done in Aikido (not high breakfalls, just going down hard) and had no problem with that. The technique was really effortless to do, sneaky, and very effective. LOL It was actually hard to not drop Uke like a ton of bricks. Then on the next technique we did quite a lot of pitching each other rather forcefully into forward rolls. All of that kind of woke me up, and I was able to make sense of at least some of the rest of the afternoon.

In the evening there was a beer social at the dojo. It was great to have a chance to sit and chat with some of the folks I’ve met. I’m starting to put names, faces, and dojos together. I’ll probably finally get a few names right on Monday, when the seminar ends. ;-)

Now I’m in that state of mind when one is immersed in an experience over a few days where you start to hear your own thoughts in the accents of dialects of the people you’ve been listening to all day. Even the way I was moving when doing my laundry and feeding the critters felt different. Weird zone to be in. I’m completely wiped out, and on my way to another hot bath and early bedtime.

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sigh