Gently falling snow renders the world with its own unique brushstroke. The falling snowflakes the emphasize the stillness of everything else. The edges of things are blurred by the intervening motes of snowflake, distance becomes less clearly delineated. Sounds are muffled; the ensuing quiet seems to remove much of the hustle and bustle from everyday existence.
The snow seems to say "slow down, calm down; be at peace, at least for a little while…"
Aikido is, for me, like the falling snow. The motion of Aikido practice counterpoints the stillness of the dojo; walls, ceiling and floor stand, hover and support according to their nature while we whirl around, our motion defining the limits of their realm while they define the space in which we move. Aikido, an agent of integration, blurs the distinction of self, the ultimate differentiator, and fosters unity from multiplicity. The quiet single-mindedness of practice brings me closer to the moment and, for a time, the noise of my life is reduced in scope and volume.
Aikido says to me "slow down, calm down; be at peace, at least for a little while…"
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