There is no light quite like October light. It has a quality that rounds off corners and smoothes ragged edges in a ways that soften the world, blending seemingly discordant shapes into a seamless whole. October light eases the passing from summer to winter and stores the promise of spring as a remembrance of the endless cycle of the passing of the seasons.
Aikido has much in common with October light. Aikido softens the edges of uke's and nage's relative motion. It bends linear movement into graceful arcs that lead the eye rather than shock it. Via Aikido, discordance gives rise to harmony as isolation yields to integration and the participants move from plurality to singularity.
It's November now, the beginning of the brown months. October's light has gone to sleep for another year; but like the legendary Phoenix, it'll be back, rising from the ashes of a spent summer. Until then, I have my Aikido to carry me along and remind me of the splendor of its illumination.
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