Forty-five

When all else is gone and I stand bereft of my masks, naked to the universe arms wide eyes open not feeling not seeing, then I will find Ki.

Knowing is a hindrance to learning. The minute I know something I cast the knowledge into stone and assume that which I know will be invariant with respect to time. Therefore I will no longer seek to learn about it. This type of reasoning leads to stagnation of my intellect.

For instance: 1 + 1 = 2 is a very elementary equation in arithmetic. It is one of the first things children learn and hence know about numerical relationships. If I then insist that 1 + 1 = 10 someone who knows that 1 + 1 = 2 will argue that I am incorrect. When I point out that 1 + 1 = 10 is indeed correct provided the base of the number system in which the equation is rendered is 2, the other person's knowledge is thereby challenged.

That, however, is immaterial to the discussion at hand. It is the initial reaction to my assertion that 1 + 1 = 10, ‘you're wrong, 1 + 1 = 2, I know it.', that's important. The act of knowing has created a barrier to learning; a barrier that is easily scaled provided the knower is willing to expand her horizons.

I see this all the time in Aikido. As I age and grow, my technique evolves to accommodate the physical and psychological changes I am continually undergoing. New ideas occur to me that when integrated into my Aikido change it's form. So today's technique looks somewhat different from the technique I taught aforetime. Students who are most secure in their knowledge are the ones who have the most trouble adapting. This is what I mean when I say that knowing creates a barrier to learning. If I can accept that what I know today will in all likelihood be different tomorrow I can forget about technique, learn about Aikido and hence myself.