Thursday, December 30, 2010
One Hundred and Seventy-five
My Aikido is an external manifestation of the internal process of the unification of mind/body/spirit. This process exhibits itself externally in other ways as well; primarily my painting and writing this blog. I wonder, do I choose the forms of expression or does the process guide me to them as I move along the path?
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
One Hundred and Seventy-four
And so it came to pass that there returned to Anywhere a Student of the Master of Anywhere. The Student had spent a long time wandering in the Wide World on a Journey, searching and finding (though sometimes not) at the behest of his Master. She it was who had instructed him to seek out Senior Students of the Master of That Other Place, then recently passed, and ascertain how each was transmitting the inheritance as passed on by the Master.
On a day of warm sunshine and clear blue sky, rare for this time of year, they sat in her training hall speaking of the things he had found out while on his Journey. As he spoke she noticed small details of the world around her, in and of themselves worthy of little note, but when taken together ran counter to the normal rhythms of Anywhere. The smell of a flower that should no longer be in bloom, the caress of a breeze a touch cooler than it ought to be, the sound of Smith's hammer upon anvil slightly out of tune, the rays morning light coming in through the windows at angles that were slightly too acute, and, just at the limit of her hearing, a faint tune being played upon an instrument that she was unfamiliar with. All together these slight deviations of her normal environment weighed upon her as she tried to pay attention to her pupil's tale.
"... finally I came upon his Hall. It is set high in the mountains, far west of That Other Place, among tall green firs where the snows melt not and the land lies under its white carpet all the year long. I was welcomed into his Hall and sat with him. He had food and warm drink served while we talked. The food and drink did much to put me at ease and assuage the hurts visited upon me by the long cold trek into the mountains. He asked me of my reasons for undertaking the Journey and I freely told him of my assignment from you.
"He smiled, seeming at some old fond memory, and after a long while said, 'Well that you have arrived here first, for I am the eldest Student of the Master of That Other Place. I was his first and was with him at the last. Of his teachings none know more.'
"He went on to tell me the story of his time with his Master; a long and intricately crafted tale it is.
'I first began my studies with my Master when he was yet somewhat young and new to teaching. His Training Hall was located down by the docks and each morning we had to rid the place of the rats that nightly rested there before we could begin our Training. The Master, in those days, was full of his youth and suffused with energy that seemingly knew no bounds. He had strength to spare and was not shy about accenting his technique with it. I was his only Student for a long while and so felt first hand the vitality of his execution. As we practiced he would talk, sometimes of himself, sometimes to himself, or so it seemed to me. But always his talk was of a nature that reflected the fear he had experienced as a child and his need to protect himself and those he held close to his heart. He had perfected his Art, he said on more than one occation, in order that he may be disadvantaged by no one ever again. No thought was given over to the Higher Ideals of Training (although later in his life they would emerge as he escaped from the darkness of his fear), only to effectiveness and martial viability of technique. It was five or so years after I began my Training that another Student knocked at his door and asked to be admitted...'"
There it was again, wafting in on that too cool whisper of a breeze; a high pitched sorrowful lament of a tune, barely audible over the sound of his voice. The tune wound itself about his voice so that she heard both as one. In her mind's eye she felt, rather than saw, the history of the Master of That Other Place as it unfolded in her Student's tale. She learned of the Gatherings and Leavings as Students came and went from the Master's school. And with each Leaving another Student went out into the world to teach what he had learned, but which was only a piece of the tapestry being woven by the Master of That Other Place. Yet each Student being well trained in the Art of Learning wove into his piece of the tapestry the tale of his own progress. And what started as a single piece of cloth woven by one person began to grow into a many layered work of dazzling complexity. Reflected therein, forming the common thread that held the entire work together were the many stages of the Master's growth upon his path. Such was the diversified nature of his Students that in later years, as the Master's Art continued to grow and evolve, conflicts would arise as Students generations down the line lost sight of the commonality that bound them altogether and began to claim ownership of the True Art of the Master of That Other Place.
Her Student stayed with the eldest Student of the Master of That Other Place for many days learning much. She felt the Master's joy as each new Student found the way to the Master's door; and his sorrow as one by one they all left to find their own Ways out in the Wide World. Each armed with the knowledge learned from the Master went abroad to share it with others. And so they came and went until upon a day at last the circle was complete and only the Master, now very old and close to moving beyond this life into whatever awaits, and the eldest of his Students remained.
She sat mesmerized as the musically verbal tale wormed its way into her. Its power was palpable and she saw at last the nature of the message.
"...then on a morning when the spring blooms of the snow stars poked up through the cold white powder the eldest Student of the Master of That Other Place came to me as I sat in meditation. 'Time for you to leave', he said. 'The Master of Anywhere has sent you on this Journey that you may discover how the Master of That Other Place's students have disseminated his teachings. I will set you upon the path that will lead you to each in the order of their appearance here so that you may experience his change throughout the years.' I gathered my things, and after sharing one more meal with him, once again took to the road..."
There followed the tale of his travels to each of the Master of That Other Place's Senior Students' training halls. The tale is long and full of many adventures, worthy in and of itself of a full recounting. However she stopped him after a while and bid him leave her with these words, "You have done well Student. It is time for you to move on and become a Teacher in your own right. You have been taught and learned how to learn. You must now find others to whom you can teach the Art of Learning. You are not doing my Art, Student. Go out and share your Art with others."
Her Hall, situated at the edge of Anywhere, was perched upon a jut of land that stuck out from the plateau like the prow of a great ship. West it faced and as she gazed into the waning light of the setting sun the story of her own life and the development of her Art unfolded in her mind's eye. She recounted the arrival and departure of each of her Students and saw herself as they must have seen her. She realized, for not the last time, that the continuity of her Art would die with her; as would the continuity of the Master of That Other Place's Art die with his eldest Student. The thought saddened her momentarily; until the last ray of light from the sun caught the blossoms of the weeping cherry tree in her yard. Though each branch of the tree was independent, all were tied to the trunk that was their common source. She and her Students, trunk and branches. Though fractured, her legacy would live on and grow as her Students followed their own paths and continued to learn and teach. Each Student's Art represented an incomplete piece of her Art, a rendering of her Art as it was manifest over a given period of time, preserved first and then extended, a living thing that would go on evolving...
The Musician, and with him his tune, fades from Anywhere as fog melts from the air in the heat of a sunny day. The consequences of his having spent time there await the unfolding of the years to make themselves known.
On a day of warm sunshine and clear blue sky, rare for this time of year, they sat in her training hall speaking of the things he had found out while on his Journey. As he spoke she noticed small details of the world around her, in and of themselves worthy of little note, but when taken together ran counter to the normal rhythms of Anywhere. The smell of a flower that should no longer be in bloom, the caress of a breeze a touch cooler than it ought to be, the sound of Smith's hammer upon anvil slightly out of tune, the rays morning light coming in through the windows at angles that were slightly too acute, and, just at the limit of her hearing, a faint tune being played upon an instrument that she was unfamiliar with. All together these slight deviations of her normal environment weighed upon her as she tried to pay attention to her pupil's tale.
"... finally I came upon his Hall. It is set high in the mountains, far west of That Other Place, among tall green firs where the snows melt not and the land lies under its white carpet all the year long. I was welcomed into his Hall and sat with him. He had food and warm drink served while we talked. The food and drink did much to put me at ease and assuage the hurts visited upon me by the long cold trek into the mountains. He asked me of my reasons for undertaking the Journey and I freely told him of my assignment from you.
"He smiled, seeming at some old fond memory, and after a long while said, 'Well that you have arrived here first, for I am the eldest Student of the Master of That Other Place. I was his first and was with him at the last. Of his teachings none know more.'
"He went on to tell me the story of his time with his Master; a long and intricately crafted tale it is.
'I first began my studies with my Master when he was yet somewhat young and new to teaching. His Training Hall was located down by the docks and each morning we had to rid the place of the rats that nightly rested there before we could begin our Training. The Master, in those days, was full of his youth and suffused with energy that seemingly knew no bounds. He had strength to spare and was not shy about accenting his technique with it. I was his only Student for a long while and so felt first hand the vitality of his execution. As we practiced he would talk, sometimes of himself, sometimes to himself, or so it seemed to me. But always his talk was of a nature that reflected the fear he had experienced as a child and his need to protect himself and those he held close to his heart. He had perfected his Art, he said on more than one occation, in order that he may be disadvantaged by no one ever again. No thought was given over to the Higher Ideals of Training (although later in his life they would emerge as he escaped from the darkness of his fear), only to effectiveness and martial viability of technique. It was five or so years after I began my Training that another Student knocked at his door and asked to be admitted...'"
There it was again, wafting in on that too cool whisper of a breeze; a high pitched sorrowful lament of a tune, barely audible over the sound of his voice. The tune wound itself about his voice so that she heard both as one. In her mind's eye she felt, rather than saw, the history of the Master of That Other Place as it unfolded in her Student's tale. She learned of the Gatherings and Leavings as Students came and went from the Master's school. And with each Leaving another Student went out into the world to teach what he had learned, but which was only a piece of the tapestry being woven by the Master of That Other Place. Yet each Student being well trained in the Art of Learning wove into his piece of the tapestry the tale of his own progress. And what started as a single piece of cloth woven by one person began to grow into a many layered work of dazzling complexity. Reflected therein, forming the common thread that held the entire work together were the many stages of the Master's growth upon his path. Such was the diversified nature of his Students that in later years, as the Master's Art continued to grow and evolve, conflicts would arise as Students generations down the line lost sight of the commonality that bound them altogether and began to claim ownership of the True Art of the Master of That Other Place.
Her Student stayed with the eldest Student of the Master of That Other Place for many days learning much. She felt the Master's joy as each new Student found the way to the Master's door; and his sorrow as one by one they all left to find their own Ways out in the Wide World. Each armed with the knowledge learned from the Master went abroad to share it with others. And so they came and went until upon a day at last the circle was complete and only the Master, now very old and close to moving beyond this life into whatever awaits, and the eldest of his Students remained.
She sat mesmerized as the musically verbal tale wormed its way into her. Its power was palpable and she saw at last the nature of the message.
"...then on a morning when the spring blooms of the snow stars poked up through the cold white powder the eldest Student of the Master of That Other Place came to me as I sat in meditation. 'Time for you to leave', he said. 'The Master of Anywhere has sent you on this Journey that you may discover how the Master of That Other Place's students have disseminated his teachings. I will set you upon the path that will lead you to each in the order of their appearance here so that you may experience his change throughout the years.' I gathered my things, and after sharing one more meal with him, once again took to the road..."
There followed the tale of his travels to each of the Master of That Other Place's Senior Students' training halls. The tale is long and full of many adventures, worthy in and of itself of a full recounting. However she stopped him after a while and bid him leave her with these words, "You have done well Student. It is time for you to move on and become a Teacher in your own right. You have been taught and learned how to learn. You must now find others to whom you can teach the Art of Learning. You are not doing my Art, Student. Go out and share your Art with others."
Her Hall, situated at the edge of Anywhere, was perched upon a jut of land that stuck out from the plateau like the prow of a great ship. West it faced and as she gazed into the waning light of the setting sun the story of her own life and the development of her Art unfolded in her mind's eye. She recounted the arrival and departure of each of her Students and saw herself as they must have seen her. She realized, for not the last time, that the continuity of her Art would die with her; as would the continuity of the Master of That Other Place's Art die with his eldest Student. The thought saddened her momentarily; until the last ray of light from the sun caught the blossoms of the weeping cherry tree in her yard. Though each branch of the tree was independent, all were tied to the trunk that was their common source. She and her Students, trunk and branches. Though fractured, her legacy would live on and grow as her Students followed their own paths and continued to learn and teach. Each Student's Art represented an incomplete piece of her Art, a rendering of her Art as it was manifest over a given period of time, preserved first and then extended, a living thing that would go on evolving...
The Musician, and with him his tune, fades from Anywhere as fog melts from the air in the heat of a sunny day. The consequences of his having spent time there await the unfolding of the years to make themselves known.
Monday, December 13, 2010
One Hundred and Seventy-three
Get in tune
with the rhythms of life.
Know the
ebb and flow
of life's cycles.
Be in sync
with the trend.
Ride life's ups and downs
with equanimity.
Enter when pulled
turn when pushed.
See both sides
not in opposition
but as one.
with the rhythms of life.
Know the
ebb and flow
of life's cycles.
Be in sync
with the trend.
Ride life's ups and downs
with equanimity.
Enter when pulled
turn when pushed.
See both sides
not in opposition
but as one.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
One Hundred and Seventy-two
The tin whistle plays and upon the warm breeze floats the cool melody, once blown never to be recalled; released upon the world in the hour before the hour before dawn when night holds sway and day is a remembrance of time gone by and yet to arrive. Long years of learning wash behind the Musician carrying with them all the baggage of his life. Before him lie the notes he has produced, traveling from him in ever widening spheres, each a product of what as gone before in his days upon the earth. To hear his song is to experience his life in his music; music that can only be created by one such as him. For he is long of age and wizened of years gone by, with light yet but still a hope at the end of his tunnel. It is music that weaves the tapestry of his long life and listeners can glean only a fragment of the whole of it yet at once feel the impact of its totality and weight.
His music is carried on the wind, to places well known and to some lost in the dust of history, moving into the small cracks and holes of fractured reality to fill the voids of forgetfulness that litter the landscapes of the world. So the history of those places is forever altered, amended, colored by the softness of the song. Beauty is wrought where the emptiness of memories no longer remembered have left nothingness in their absence. In other places the draught of corruption is amplified by the music. For all that is soft be not always sweet. Flowers grow through cracks in pavement in the hearts of concrete, steel and glass cities while children in other more idyllic places are taken before their time. The music plays no favorites, it deals in life and death with all the dispassionate reserve of an oncologist informing a patient that treatment has failed and perhaps going home now to pass on is the only recourse. As it passes and touches the lives of people, they are changed, and not knowing why or how they become other than once they were; and so go on becoming while friends, lovers, spouses and children can only watch and wonder, for not having heard the music they are left behind.
Moving on, the Musician and his music go forward to work their magic in a world where magic has no place and all magicians are merely the creators of slick illusions… or is that the illusion? Ask the Musician if ever you see him. Perhaps he will answer, perhaps not, but in his music you will hear something of meaning meant just for you, else never the opportunity to ask would have occurred and he would have passed you by without a glance or a note for you from his tin whistle.
The Musician walks bustling highways and lonely back roads all across the world and ever his music is heard in the land by those it is destined to touch and work its magic upon. His boots are worn and scuffed, dusty with the flotsam and jetsam of everyday life. Upon his head sits a hat of faded leather. Softened by years of exposure to the elements the hat hides his face, or most of it anyway, so that the casual passerby will see only the thin line of his mouth above a square strong chin and the sharp point of his nose protruding out of shadow. Clad in grey that mimics twilight shadows and fades to black as night creeps into the remnants of a day once sunny and bright, he moves down a dusty street of some out of the way place long forgotten by even the other out of the way places of the world…
…and so comes to Anywhere.
His music is carried on the wind, to places well known and to some lost in the dust of history, moving into the small cracks and holes of fractured reality to fill the voids of forgetfulness that litter the landscapes of the world. So the history of those places is forever altered, amended, colored by the softness of the song. Beauty is wrought where the emptiness of memories no longer remembered have left nothingness in their absence. In other places the draught of corruption is amplified by the music. For all that is soft be not always sweet. Flowers grow through cracks in pavement in the hearts of concrete, steel and glass cities while children in other more idyllic places are taken before their time. The music plays no favorites, it deals in life and death with all the dispassionate reserve of an oncologist informing a patient that treatment has failed and perhaps going home now to pass on is the only recourse. As it passes and touches the lives of people, they are changed, and not knowing why or how they become other than once they were; and so go on becoming while friends, lovers, spouses and children can only watch and wonder, for not having heard the music they are left behind.
Moving on, the Musician and his music go forward to work their magic in a world where magic has no place and all magicians are merely the creators of slick illusions… or is that the illusion? Ask the Musician if ever you see him. Perhaps he will answer, perhaps not, but in his music you will hear something of meaning meant just for you, else never the opportunity to ask would have occurred and he would have passed you by without a glance or a note for you from his tin whistle.
The Musician walks bustling highways and lonely back roads all across the world and ever his music is heard in the land by those it is destined to touch and work its magic upon. His boots are worn and scuffed, dusty with the flotsam and jetsam of everyday life. Upon his head sits a hat of faded leather. Softened by years of exposure to the elements the hat hides his face, or most of it anyway, so that the casual passerby will see only the thin line of his mouth above a square strong chin and the sharp point of his nose protruding out of shadow. Clad in grey that mimics twilight shadows and fades to black as night creeps into the remnants of a day once sunny and bright, he moves down a dusty street of some out of the way place long forgotten by even the other out of the way places of the world…
…and so comes to Anywhere.
Friday, October 1, 2010
One Hundred and Seventy-one
If you hate a person, you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us. - Hermann Hesse
The inward looking direction of my training forces me to see myself as I am, stripping away the garb of ego that I use to present an image of myself to the world instead of who I really am. The process of finding myself has been long, difficult and on-going. I suppose, since I am continually changing, finding new and inventive ways to hide myself, the journey will never end. I can approach myself without limit, but due to the unflagging efforts of my ego, never quite reach me. There'll always be another layer of self protection (or should I say delusion?) to peel away.
When I encounter someone I don't like I ask myself what is it about me that I see reflected in him? Then, as I continue to train, I can meditate on the answer and so, hopefully, eventually arrive at an understanding as to what it is about me that I don't like and change it.
I can take Hesse's quote and turn it around to read:
If you like a person, you like something in him that is part of yourself. We like that part of ourselves that doesn't disturb us.
Finding the parts of myself that I like, by seeing them reflected in the people I train with and interact with in the world, and letting them flourish is also an important part of my training. In this way, purging the negative while nurturing the positive, I continue to grow.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Interlude
They meet at last
upon other shores,
where pain and hurt are but shadows of a prior life,
dwindling, fading,
drowned in the light of a new day.
She passed in quiet solitude,
yesterday,
in the light of a waning summer’s afternoon,
giving up at last,
the body she knew
as herself for ninety years.
There upon the other side he awaited her arrival,
having made the journey fifteen years earlier.
And who is to say
what lies before them?
Goodbye Mom and Dad,
may you sail to lands
where the grass is always green,
the air fresh with the seasons’ aromas,
where your love for each other
will be eternally renewed.
I love you both and wish you well.
upon other shores,
where pain and hurt are but shadows of a prior life,
dwindling, fading,
drowned in the light of a new day.
She passed in quiet solitude,
yesterday,
in the light of a waning summer’s afternoon,
giving up at last,
the body she knew
as herself for ninety years.
There upon the other side he awaited her arrival,
having made the journey fifteen years earlier.
And who is to say
what lies before them?
Goodbye Mom and Dad,
may you sail to lands
where the grass is always green,
the air fresh with the seasons’ aromas,
where your love for each other
will be eternally renewed.
I love you both and wish you well.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
One Hundred and Seventy
The weather is still hot and seen from North Mountain Road the distant Catskills are softended and blurred by the haze that rises from the valleys. In the fertile fields corn stands tall ready for harvest. White cylindrical bales of newly mown hay lay about the fields awaiting storage.
The deep greens of high summer are fading to paler, duller shades that herald the onset of autumn. Already the maple leaves are turning and beginning to show their fall colors, orange to red in so many different shades; so easy to spot against the still predominantly green background. The late summer sun casts long soft rays of golden light through the leaf canopy of the part of the Harlem Valley Rail Trail that Mary and I call the Cathedral. Tall trees soar above the trail, leaning together high above to form a living roof.
As we slowly (we are invetrate cruisers) pedal our way down the trail, a red tailed hawk swoops out of the trees above us moving from our left to our right, perches on a branch a little ahead of us, and seems to wait for us. As we close on it, the hawk launches once more flying to the oppsite side of the trail where it alights and again awaits our approach. This goes on for a ways, the bird moving from one side of the trail to the other, patiently waiting for us to catch up before moving again, until finally it flies off on an errand known only to itself.
Aikido in daily life; the awareness of the interconnectedness of all things. There is no separation, only self imposed isolation; no boundries, only the tyranny of ego. Each moment I can choose to close myself off from the wonders of the world around me or permit myself to enjoy their splendor. The practice of Aikido is a way of integration for me; a way of mitigating the societal induced differentiation I have experienced since birth. Via Aikido I have learned to re-connect with the world; to hold myself forth and let the world re-connect with me.
The deep greens of high summer are fading to paler, duller shades that herald the onset of autumn. Already the maple leaves are turning and beginning to show their fall colors, orange to red in so many different shades; so easy to spot against the still predominantly green background. The late summer sun casts long soft rays of golden light through the leaf canopy of the part of the Harlem Valley Rail Trail that Mary and I call the Cathedral. Tall trees soar above the trail, leaning together high above to form a living roof.
As we slowly (we are invetrate cruisers) pedal our way down the trail, a red tailed hawk swoops out of the trees above us moving from our left to our right, perches on a branch a little ahead of us, and seems to wait for us. As we close on it, the hawk launches once more flying to the oppsite side of the trail where it alights and again awaits our approach. This goes on for a ways, the bird moving from one side of the trail to the other, patiently waiting for us to catch up before moving again, until finally it flies off on an errand known only to itself.
Aikido in daily life; the awareness of the interconnectedness of all things. There is no separation, only self imposed isolation; no boundries, only the tyranny of ego. Each moment I can choose to close myself off from the wonders of the world around me or permit myself to enjoy their splendor. The practice of Aikido is a way of integration for me; a way of mitigating the societal induced differentiation I have experienced since birth. Via Aikido I have learned to re-connect with the world; to hold myself forth and let the world re-connect with me.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
One Hundred and Sixty-nine
Below is a brief interchange I had with Dan and some further comments from me.
I said...
I'd rather have uke
push the air
where I have been
than push me.
Dan said...
While that is excellent and sounds rather nice, by the way.
In a more poetic refrain:
He pushes the air
Where I have been
There is another way, Ron. he can push on you, and you use his enery to take it from him while simultaniously feeding back. He feels like he is pushing into a hole while you are cpatruing his being and leading him.
In my way of moving:
He pushes
I take from him what he offers
I give it back to him equally
We meet..in peace.
Peace
Dan
I said...
Hi Dan -
And so, together, we complete the circle.
All the best,
Ron
Dan said...
Well I like my version of
"He pushes the air
Were I have been.."
I love your version that fits my own
"Together we complete the circle..."
I'm stealing that (with credit).
Short and to the point.
Thanks
Dan
What I see is that Dan and I are talking about the same process albiet from diametrically opposed viewpoints. I am taking what uke has to offer while in a state of motion. My movement suggests a trajectory that uke may move in without encountering any resistance from me. Dan seems to be accepting uke's gift of energy statically and then leading uke in some way without much motion at all (I may have totally misinterpreted Dan's remarks here so please forgive).
Dan's statement: "he can push on you, and you use his enery to take it from him while simultaniously feeding back. He feels like he is pushing into a hole while you are cpatruing his being and leading him." is what I refer to as simultaneous leading and following or moving in concert, not conflict. When I yield my position to uke I do it in such a way as to afford him the opportunity to fall into the momentary vacuum I leave behind. The energy he has expended must go somewhere so I accept it with thanks, and give it back to him when we meet up later. His balance I keep; it will be restored when he meets the mat. I refer to this as the cycle of conflict engagement, neutralization and resolution.
It's rather like a surfer who rides the wave front, remaining calm and upright while the sea froths and churns around him. He accepts the force the ocean gives him, following where it leads, while leading it, as it in turn carries him along.
I said...
I'd rather have uke
push the air
where I have been
than push me.
Dan said...
While that is excellent and sounds rather nice, by the way.
In a more poetic refrain:
He pushes the air
Where I have been
There is another way, Ron. he can push on you, and you use his enery to take it from him while simultaniously feeding back. He feels like he is pushing into a hole while you are cpatruing his being and leading him.
In my way of moving:
He pushes
I take from him what he offers
I give it back to him equally
We meet..in peace.
Peace
Dan
I said...
Hi Dan -
And so, together, we complete the circle.
All the best,
Ron
Dan said...
Well I like my version of
"He pushes the air
Were I have been.."
I love your version that fits my own
"Together we complete the circle..."
I'm stealing that (with credit).
Short and to the point.
Thanks
Dan
What I see is that Dan and I are talking about the same process albiet from diametrically opposed viewpoints. I am taking what uke has to offer while in a state of motion. My movement suggests a trajectory that uke may move in without encountering any resistance from me. Dan seems to be accepting uke's gift of energy statically and then leading uke in some way without much motion at all (I may have totally misinterpreted Dan's remarks here so please forgive).
Dan's statement: "he can push on you, and you use his enery to take it from him while simultaniously feeding back. He feels like he is pushing into a hole while you are cpatruing his being and leading him." is what I refer to as simultaneous leading and following or moving in concert, not conflict. When I yield my position to uke I do it in such a way as to afford him the opportunity to fall into the momentary vacuum I leave behind. The energy he has expended must go somewhere so I accept it with thanks, and give it back to him when we meet up later. His balance I keep; it will be restored when he meets the mat. I refer to this as the cycle of conflict engagement, neutralization and resolution.
It's rather like a surfer who rides the wave front, remaining calm and upright while the sea froths and churns around him. He accepts the force the ocean gives him, following where it leads, while leading it, as it in turn carries him along.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
One Hundred and Sixty-eight
It's not about the throw or control or imposing my will upon another. It's about discovering who I am and how I fit into the world. I see myself in the patterns my partner and I form as we work together to achieve a union of sorts that, sometimes, is profound in a way that transcends our individual natures and becomes... something else; if only briefly and not often enough. It's at those moments of intersection that I am totally aware of the Art that is Aikido; an Art that, from conflict, gives rise to deep and abiding beauty.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Saturday, July 17, 2010
One Hundred and Sixty-six
Ahh, definately not the uke I once was. My attacks have slowed with age though there has been no ebbing of intent; and while I still take ukemi for my students every class I notice that I don't bounce up the way I used to. It's more of a rolling "ease yourself up from the mat son" type of motion now.
I feel that it's important to keep taking ukemi for as long as I am able. How else am I going to feel the progress of my students? So much of what we do is internalized that just looking only tells me part of the story. By feeling their technique in response to my attacks I am able adjust my instruction for each student individually.
Experiencing connection as uke enables me to push students to their limits, and then just a little bit further so as to help them grow into their power. I love it when I go to stop a student's technique and am treated as just another uke, taken off balance and sent to the mat.
When I turned forty I somehow convinced myself that I was getting too old to fall. Thankfully, Mary banged me on my head a few times and with a few choice words quickly dispelled me of that notion. Twenty-three years later I'm still grateful for that.
I feel that it's important to keep taking ukemi for as long as I am able. How else am I going to feel the progress of my students? So much of what we do is internalized that just looking only tells me part of the story. By feeling their technique in response to my attacks I am able adjust my instruction for each student individually.
Experiencing connection as uke enables me to push students to their limits, and then just a little bit further so as to help them grow into their power. I love it when I go to stop a student's technique and am treated as just another uke, taken off balance and sent to the mat.
When I turned forty I somehow convinced myself that I was getting too old to fall. Thankfully, Mary banged me on my head a few times and with a few choice words quickly dispelled me of that notion. Twenty-three years later I'm still grateful for that.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
One Hundred and Sixty-five
Along my path I...
Learn the waza,
practice the waza,
train the waza,
live the waza,
breathe the waza,
be the waza;
forget the waza,
do Aikido.
Learn the waza,
practice the waza,
train the waza,
live the waza,
breathe the waza,
be the waza;
forget the waza,
do Aikido.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
One Hundred and Sixty-four
My hands on uke
do not become points of control
they define points of departure.
And from what do I depart?
Ego, rigid space, isolation, separation, immobility, conflict...
My touch is light
a hint of suggestion,
encouragement
as uke follows my lead
I move into his wake
completing the cycle of leading/following,
though they occur simultaneously.
I don't lead then follow
then lead then follow again
for uke moves with me,
our leading/following
entwined in braided motion.
It's about connection
not control.
Control is the antithesis of
Aikido, which is
the embodiment of freedom;
formless interaction,
the control of which
immediately severs
the bond.
Each touch
a point of departure,
a point of beginning,
of communion, communication, unification.
Without the responsibility of control
I am able to sport freely,
lose myself in the moment
and truly experience correct feeling.
do not become points of control
they define points of departure.
And from what do I depart?
Ego, rigid space, isolation, separation, immobility, conflict...
My touch is light
a hint of suggestion,
encouragement
as uke follows my lead
I move into his wake
completing the cycle of leading/following,
though they occur simultaneously.
I don't lead then follow
then lead then follow again
for uke moves with me,
our leading/following
entwined in braided motion.
It's about connection
not control.
Control is the antithesis of
Aikido, which is
the embodiment of freedom;
formless interaction,
the control of which
immediately severs
the bond.
Each touch
a point of departure,
a point of beginning,
of communion, communication, unification.
Without the responsibility of control
I am able to sport freely,
lose myself in the moment
and truly experience correct feeling.
Monday, May 31, 2010
One Hundred and Sixty-three
A character in "The Sword of the Lady" by S. M. Stirling remarks that relaxing the body helps to relax the mind. It got me to thinking about my Aikido training. I was always told to calm my mind in order to relax my body. I never heard the converse, and I assumed that in order to relax my body I first had to calm my mind. Considering Stirling's quote in light of my view regarding posture I now see that both points of view, far from being contradictory, are actually complimentary.
Over the years I have come to realize that correct posture is composed of both external and internal factors; each of which complements and reinforces the other. External posture is my physical appearance, the face I put on for the world to see. Internal posture is reserved only for me to observe. It's my self image, how I view myself in my mind's eye. Correct posture as it relates to Aikido requires both internal and external postures be viewed and presented, respectively, in a positive manner; another tool for the effective integration of body and mind and the attainment of correct feeling. When practiced, positive internal and external postures reinforce each other in a feedback loop.
Thus it is with the relaxation of my body and mind. As I practice Aikido I learn to relax my body which, in turn, calms my mind. As I grow a quiet mind my body further relaxes... Once the loop has been established, ongoing practice reinforces the results. Body and mind, relaxed and calm, become increasingly integrated and, hence, my whole being moves closer to now as I continue to progress.
Over the years I have come to realize that correct posture is composed of both external and internal factors; each of which complements and reinforces the other. External posture is my physical appearance, the face I put on for the world to see. Internal posture is reserved only for me to observe. It's my self image, how I view myself in my mind's eye. Correct posture as it relates to Aikido requires both internal and external postures be viewed and presented, respectively, in a positive manner; another tool for the effective integration of body and mind and the attainment of correct feeling. When practiced, positive internal and external postures reinforce each other in a feedback loop.
Thus it is with the relaxation of my body and mind. As I practice Aikido I learn to relax my body which, in turn, calms my mind. As I grow a quiet mind my body further relaxes... Once the loop has been established, ongoing practice reinforces the results. Body and mind, relaxed and calm, become increasingly integrated and, hence, my whole being moves closer to now as I continue to progress.
Friday, May 21, 2010
One Hundred and Sixty-two
In Post 52 I described an exercise related to having both weight underside and no weight on my feet. The other night Mary had us practice another similar exercise that employed the well known two people lifting one person Ki exercise.
Standing in natural stance I have one person grab each of my arms with two hands and proceed to lift. My hands, wrists slightly curled, hang at my sides with elbows only very slightly bent. As long as I remain relaxed and centered I can remain on the ground despite my partners' best efforts to lift me. The minute I allow tension to seep into my elbows or shoulders my partners will be able to lift me. If I lose unbendable arm one or both of my shoulders will rise, destroying my structure and unbalancing me.
Once I am satisfied the my partners cannot lift me I begin to move about the mat as they continue lifting. I am able to move freely, as though sliding over an iced pond. From my partners' perspectives I am heavy, from my own I feel light as a feather, my feet firmly but barely touching the floor as I move about.
This is the feeling of no weight on your feet. Continued practice of this exercise is a terrific aid in developing the feeling of weight underside while moving.
Standing in natural stance I have one person grab each of my arms with two hands and proceed to lift. My hands, wrists slightly curled, hang at my sides with elbows only very slightly bent. As long as I remain relaxed and centered I can remain on the ground despite my partners' best efforts to lift me. The minute I allow tension to seep into my elbows or shoulders my partners will be able to lift me. If I lose unbendable arm one or both of my shoulders will rise, destroying my structure and unbalancing me.
Once I am satisfied the my partners cannot lift me I begin to move about the mat as they continue lifting. I am able to move freely, as though sliding over an iced pond. From my partners' perspectives I am heavy, from my own I feel light as a feather, my feet firmly but barely touching the floor as I move about.
This is the feeling of no weight on your feet. Continued practice of this exercise is a terrific aid in developing the feeling of weight underside while moving.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
One Hundred and Sixty-one
I insist that I am right;
and so have been defeated from the outset.
I have been immobilized,
encased in the straight jacket of my knowledge
I cease to grow and change.
My study of Aikido has taught me
knowledge is fluid;
evolving with time and circumstance.
Knowledge is approximate;
requiring recall
removes me from the moment.
O Sensei wrote
"Learn and forget."
and so have been defeated from the outset.
I have been immobilized,
encased in the straight jacket of my knowledge
I cease to grow and change.
My study of Aikido has taught me
knowledge is fluid;
evolving with time and circumstance.
Knowledge is approximate;
requiring recall
removes me from the moment.
O Sensei wrote
"Learn and forget."
Sunday, April 18, 2010
One Hundred and Sixty
There is no adequate substitute for feeling Aikido. Metaphorical descriptions be they conferred by word, picture or video; cast in the language of science, philosophy or arcane concepts out of the depths of time are rendered unsatisfactory when what is happening is actually felt by my partner and me.
I learn Aikido via the interaction of my partner and myself as we move about the mat practicing technique, Ki exercises, randori or whatever. As training time progresses I become familiar with how I feel when things go smoothly and naturally. I learn to feel when I have connected with my partner and we move in concert rather than conflict. Feeling provides me with all the feedback I need to determine the effectiveness of my performance. When I feel bumping, pulling, pushing, tugging, towing, undue exertion... I immediately know that something is wrong, we're no longer connected, and I then seek to reestablish my link with my partner. Aikido practice is self-correcting. If I just pay attention to how I feel then, with time, I will be able to refine my practice in such a way as to continually approach correct feeling which is my most natural and strongest possible state.
Along the way, I endeavor to dispense with metaphor as a substitute for feeling. Metaphor is a seductive but limiting tool for trying to encapsulate a dynamic process in static imagery. Metaphor is an order of magnitude removed from experience. If I rely on metaphor to bolster my understanding and perpetuate my growth in Aikido I will surely stray from the path which is laid out before me but must be felt to be really experienced and understood.
I learn Aikido via the interaction of my partner and myself as we move about the mat practicing technique, Ki exercises, randori or whatever. As training time progresses I become familiar with how I feel when things go smoothly and naturally. I learn to feel when I have connected with my partner and we move in concert rather than conflict. Feeling provides me with all the feedback I need to determine the effectiveness of my performance. When I feel bumping, pulling, pushing, tugging, towing, undue exertion... I immediately know that something is wrong, we're no longer connected, and I then seek to reestablish my link with my partner. Aikido practice is self-correcting. If I just pay attention to how I feel then, with time, I will be able to refine my practice in such a way as to continually approach correct feeling which is my most natural and strongest possible state.
Along the way, I endeavor to dispense with metaphor as a substitute for feeling. Metaphor is a seductive but limiting tool for trying to encapsulate a dynamic process in static imagery. Metaphor is an order of magnitude removed from experience. If I rely on metaphor to bolster my understanding and perpetuate my growth in Aikido I will surely stray from the path which is laid out before me but must be felt to be really experienced and understood.
Monday, April 12, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty-nine
Mary and I were back team teaching over the weekend. My first classes since the operation. The doc was true to his word, I was limited in what I could do only by the pain doing it caused. And, in fact, since I decided to take things slow and ease myself back into full bore practice there was very little discomfort.
What I found most interesting; and I guess I had to be totally away from practice for 2 weeks to appreciate it, was that I found I could draw on the energy of the other people in class. Each partner I practiced with had something to offer, a healing something, and I felt myself grow appreciably stronger as class went on. By the end of Sunday class I could almost forget that only two weeks earlier I was sliced, diced, pumped full of gas and patched up in an OR at Bay State.
I've been studying Aikido for thirty-three years and it never ceases to amaze me that I manage to take something new away from each and every class. Mary and I feel truly blessed and honored to be able to teach and practice with the folks that come to our house to study with us four times a week, week in and week out.
What I found most interesting; and I guess I had to be totally away from practice for 2 weeks to appreciate it, was that I found I could draw on the energy of the other people in class. Each partner I practiced with had something to offer, a healing something, and I felt myself grow appreciably stronger as class went on. By the end of Sunday class I could almost forget that only two weeks earlier I was sliced, diced, pumped full of gas and patched up in an OR at Bay State.
I've been studying Aikido for thirty-three years and it never ceases to amaze me that I manage to take something new away from each and every class. Mary and I feel truly blessed and honored to be able to teach and practice with the folks that come to our house to study with us four times a week, week in and week out.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty-eight
Finally had my operation on March 29th. Two hours under, three hernias repaired; one pretty awful week and one not so awful week of recovery. Made it back on the mat today (April 10th).
It occurred to me today during class that for the past 4 months while I was waiting to be operated on that my focus in class has been pretty much exclusively on my centers. The hernias were clustered around my physical center in a nice equilateral triangle and seriously hampered my ability to be overly physical with my partners. Consequently, when practicing, I had to rely on really focusing on my, for lack of a better way of phrasing it, Ki center. The experience brought home to me the paramount importance of all of the principles I talk about in class (connection, congruent motion, timing, patience, letting the throw happen of its own accord, correct distance etc).
I have learned that via correct application of those principles that even though my physical center has been damaged and is still healing, thus not very reliable, that I can trust my Ki center. My injury has forced me to step up and perform at a higher level in order to continue performing at all. A most enlightening experience.
It occurred to me today during class that for the past 4 months while I was waiting to be operated on that my focus in class has been pretty much exclusively on my centers. The hernias were clustered around my physical center in a nice equilateral triangle and seriously hampered my ability to be overly physical with my partners. Consequently, when practicing, I had to rely on really focusing on my, for lack of a better way of phrasing it, Ki center. The experience brought home to me the paramount importance of all of the principles I talk about in class (connection, congruent motion, timing, patience, letting the throw happen of its own accord, correct distance etc).
I have learned that via correct application of those principles that even though my physical center has been damaged and is still healing, thus not very reliable, that I can trust my Ki center. My injury has forced me to step up and perform at a higher level in order to continue performing at all. A most enlightening experience.
Monday, April 5, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty-seven
And so on a day much clearer
air not muddied by time and trial,
the tide in its rhythm,
when seasons come and seasons go,
children grow without fear,
tears are only those of joy,
then, perhaps,
the world will no longer
need Aikido,
for its mission
will have come to fruition.
But the days of many are not clear
air grows stale in many ports,
the tide laps not gently
upon all shores,
and seasons,
while coming and going
as always they do,
do so in ways
seeming sometimes capriciously malicious;
children do grow in fear
real fear born
of troubles they neither understand
or should have to care about,
and tears are
more often than not
tears of pain and grief.
The vision of the Master
has yet to come to pass,
though but a drop
of rain in a vast hollow,
enough drops falling will
fill the hollow and create a sea.
The promise of Aikido
may yet see the light
of a day
breaking upon a world
unfettered of strife
and conflict born of fear.
air not muddied by time and trial,
the tide in its rhythm,
when seasons come and seasons go,
children grow without fear,
tears are only those of joy,
then, perhaps,
the world will no longer
need Aikido,
for its mission
will have come to fruition.
But the days of many are not clear
air grows stale in many ports,
the tide laps not gently
upon all shores,
and seasons,
while coming and going
as always they do,
do so in ways
seeming sometimes capriciously malicious;
children do grow in fear
real fear born
of troubles they neither understand
or should have to care about,
and tears are
more often than not
tears of pain and grief.
The vision of the Master
has yet to come to pass,
though but a drop
of rain in a vast hollow,
enough drops falling will
fill the hollow and create a sea.
The promise of Aikido
may yet see the light
of a day
breaking upon a world
unfettered of strife
and conflict born of fear.
Friday, April 2, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty-six
What I am finding is that my Aikido growth is right in step with my advancing age. That is, I am more centered, stronger, softer, and calmer than I was 30, 20, 10 or even 5 years ago.
More Centered - One way that 'centeredness' manifests itself is weight underside. When I was a 4th kyu student we were visited by a student from New York who studied under Yamada sensei. Michael was a 2nd dan at the time; a rank which, I remember, seemed a lifetime away from my vantage point. I had the occasion to uke for him in a three uke freestyle. What impressed me most about him was the fact that when I attacked him he seemed to weigh 3 or 4 hundred pounds more than his actual weight and embodied all those hundreds of pounds in his solidity. I promised myself that one day I too would achieve what I felt when practicing with him. Now, these many years later, I realize that even though my real weight isn't a whole lot more than it was then, my weight as perceived by my partners is decidedly heavier than would be recorded on a scale.
Stronger - Ahh... strength, power... the ability to control, to exert one's will over another (especially a resistant other)... the seductive feeling that lesser mortals must give way in the face of my awesomely strong self... At best a destructive illusion, at worst a lie I may tell myself in order to justify some action of mine that otherwise would be better left undone. I have come to the realization that real strength comes not from what I can do to successfully throw my partner, but what I don't have to do to in order to execute the throw. The kind of strength I'm referring to is sometimes call Ki power or internal strength or the strength of connection or [insert your favorite metaphor]. It's something I have much more of now than I possessed in the past. I know now that Ki exercises aren't just demonstrations to wow onlookers and beginning students. They are an essential part of training myself to grow stronger; to grow the kind of strength that doesn't dissipate with the years.
Softer - When I began training I was at the height of my physical power and endurance. I loved to be thrown hard and to reciprocate in kind. That was real Aikido. And for a long while it remained my truth. Age and Aikido changed me though. Gradually as I grew older I began to experience the benefits of the 'softer' way. I saw that applying a soft touch at the right moment will lead to a throw in the same way that a mighty grasp without regard to the subtleties of timing and connection. I learned to establish a connection with my partner before the attack and maintain it throughout the whole movement and follow through. This approach has allowed me to continue taking ukemi into my sixties and, hopefully, long beyond. I have been able to take better care of my partners thus allowing them to continue their training as they age.
Calmer - At 29 many long years of joyful practice lay before me and I couldn't wait to get 'there' although as to exactly where 'there' was remained a mystery. I was so thirsty in those days, I wanted to know it all and know it fast. Aikido was a rainbow and even though it meant missing out on the beauty of the arch, what I wanted was the pot of gold at its end. Consequently much of my early and middle years studying were spent in a state of inner tension. As what previously lay before me now stretches out far behind I see that the journey is the real reward. This has resulted in an inner calmness that tempers my still strong ache for deeper knowledge of my Way.
More Centered - One way that 'centeredness' manifests itself is weight underside. When I was a 4th kyu student we were visited by a student from New York who studied under Yamada sensei. Michael was a 2nd dan at the time; a rank which, I remember, seemed a lifetime away from my vantage point. I had the occasion to uke for him in a three uke freestyle. What impressed me most about him was the fact that when I attacked him he seemed to weigh 3 or 4 hundred pounds more than his actual weight and embodied all those hundreds of pounds in his solidity. I promised myself that one day I too would achieve what I felt when practicing with him. Now, these many years later, I realize that even though my real weight isn't a whole lot more than it was then, my weight as perceived by my partners is decidedly heavier than would be recorded on a scale.
Stronger - Ahh... strength, power... the ability to control, to exert one's will over another (especially a resistant other)... the seductive feeling that lesser mortals must give way in the face of my awesomely strong self... At best a destructive illusion, at worst a lie I may tell myself in order to justify some action of mine that otherwise would be better left undone. I have come to the realization that real strength comes not from what I can do to successfully throw my partner, but what I don't have to do to in order to execute the throw. The kind of strength I'm referring to is sometimes call Ki power or internal strength or the strength of connection or [insert your favorite metaphor]. It's something I have much more of now than I possessed in the past. I know now that Ki exercises aren't just demonstrations to wow onlookers and beginning students. They are an essential part of training myself to grow stronger; to grow the kind of strength that doesn't dissipate with the years.
Softer - When I began training I was at the height of my physical power and endurance. I loved to be thrown hard and to reciprocate in kind. That was real Aikido. And for a long while it remained my truth. Age and Aikido changed me though. Gradually as I grew older I began to experience the benefits of the 'softer' way. I saw that applying a soft touch at the right moment will lead to a throw in the same way that a mighty grasp without regard to the subtleties of timing and connection. I learned to establish a connection with my partner before the attack and maintain it throughout the whole movement and follow through. This approach has allowed me to continue taking ukemi into my sixties and, hopefully, long beyond. I have been able to take better care of my partners thus allowing them to continue their training as they age.
Calmer - At 29 many long years of joyful practice lay before me and I couldn't wait to get 'there' although as to exactly where 'there' was remained a mystery. I was so thirsty in those days, I wanted to know it all and know it fast. Aikido was a rainbow and even though it meant missing out on the beauty of the arch, what I wanted was the pot of gold at its end. Consequently much of my early and middle years studying were spent in a state of inner tension. As what previously lay before me now stretches out far behind I see that the journey is the real reward. This has resulted in an inner calmness that tempers my still strong ache for deeper knowledge of my Way.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty-five
When working with the bokken I treat it as I would any uke. That is I seek to establish a connection with it so that we may move in concert our respective motions congruent. I don't practice choreographed kata any longer, having given it up 5 years ago. I practiced the traditional bokken katas for many years and took from them what they had to offer.
Maruyama Sensei showed me there was another way to wield the bokken, a way that he showed openly but no one seemed to be able to see. It wasn't what he did; for he demonstrated the traditional movements, it was how he did it. While his students concentrated on stringing together the correct sequence of movements, he flowed like water moving through a winding, curving pipe. The strikes were there but so seamlessly were they woven into the pattern that the weapon just moved through the point of contact and continued on its way. The bokken seemed to move of its own accord as he led/followed it around.
It is from those observations that I developed my method of working with both the bokken and jo staff. The short clip below shows Simon performing some free form work with the bokken.
Maruyama Sensei showed me there was another way to wield the bokken, a way that he showed openly but no one seemed to be able to see. It wasn't what he did; for he demonstrated the traditional movements, it was how he did it. While his students concentrated on stringing together the correct sequence of movements, he flowed like water moving through a winding, curving pipe. The strikes were there but so seamlessly were they woven into the pattern that the weapon just moved through the point of contact and continued on its way. The bokken seemed to move of its own accord as he led/followed it around.
It is from those observations that I developed my method of working with both the bokken and jo staff. The short clip below shows Simon performing some free form work with the bokken.
Monday, March 8, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty-four
The Master of Anywhere squatted beside the stream. For a long while she did nothing, lost in the symphony of the stream as it wound its way among the rocks. Her vision, global at first, slowly narrowed as the stream wove it's music for her until her focus was concentrated on three maple leaves resting upon two rocks that lay in the water at her feet.
The leaves clothed in the varying shades of warm reds and yellows of mid autumn lay where they had fallen two upon one rock one upon the other. The central point of each leaf pointed in such a way as to lead her eye from leaf to leaf, describing a triangle. The leaf triangle emphasized the triangular nature of the relationship between the two rocks. The rocks in turn led her to notice how the pattern of the flowing water also described a triangle. Leaves of the air, rocks of earth, currents of water, arranged by chance, observed by chance... at once the splendor of it all hit her as she imagined that all the years of her life had led her to this point, at this time, in order that she may observe this simple arrangement of leaf, rock and water.
Energy surged within her; building from her center it boiled and roiled until she felt that she should explode if it was not given free reign to escape and be released into the world. With a mighty cry of exultation she rose from her position, arms outstretched, face turned to the heavens and poured forth her energy in one explosion of release.
It is said that her cry was heard for many miles in all directions and the people marveled at the joy contained therein. And all who heard it were filled with hope and a feeling of healing as though some spirit of redemption had been loosed upon the world. Far, far away the Master of Anywhere lay at the foot of the maple tree and slept the dreamless sleep that is known by only the very, very young and very, very old among us.
The leaves clothed in the varying shades of warm reds and yellows of mid autumn lay where they had fallen two upon one rock one upon the other. The central point of each leaf pointed in such a way as to lead her eye from leaf to leaf, describing a triangle. The leaf triangle emphasized the triangular nature of the relationship between the two rocks. The rocks in turn led her to notice how the pattern of the flowing water also described a triangle. Leaves of the air, rocks of earth, currents of water, arranged by chance, observed by chance... at once the splendor of it all hit her as she imagined that all the years of her life had led her to this point, at this time, in order that she may observe this simple arrangement of leaf, rock and water.
Energy surged within her; building from her center it boiled and roiled until she felt that she should explode if it was not given free reign to escape and be released into the world. With a mighty cry of exultation she rose from her position, arms outstretched, face turned to the heavens and poured forth her energy in one explosion of release.
It is said that her cry was heard for many miles in all directions and the people marveled at the joy contained therein. And all who heard it were filled with hope and a feeling of healing as though some spirit of redemption had been loosed upon the world. Far, far away the Master of Anywhere lay at the foot of the maple tree and slept the dreamless sleep that is known by only the very, very young and very, very old among us.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty-three
There can be
no resistance
in the absence
of control.
Control,
even of myself,
an illusion;
takes me out of
the flow of life's rhythm,
moves me away from now...
robs me of my center.
O Sensei -
'To truly implement the Art of Peace,
you must be able to sport freely in the
manifest, hidden and devine realms',
Control is the absence of freedom.
no resistance
in the absence
of control.
Control,
even of myself,
an illusion;
takes me out of
the flow of life's rhythm,
moves me away from now...
robs me of my center.
O Sensei -
'To truly implement the Art of Peace,
you must be able to sport freely in the
manifest, hidden and devine realms',
Control is the absence of freedom.
Friday, February 26, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty-two
Techniques are the words of Aikido.
My training consists, largely, of practicing techniques over and over. Techniques are structured movements, patterned responses to predetermined attacks. They have identifiable forms that, while differing in small details, are essentially the same across Aikido styles. In and of themselves, techniques are mechanical vehicles for learning and internalizing the concepts that underly Aikido. I learn connection, congruent motion, correct distance, timing, extension of Ki while moving etc.
Randori is the literature of Aikido.
During randori the motions of uke and nage are removed from the structured dance of technique practice and enter into the realm of spontaneity. My uke is free to move unfettered by the constraints that govern technique practice and, likewise, my movement is equally unrestrained.
Early in my training, randori consisted of repeated attack/throw sequences, not far removed from the practice of individual technique; the obvious difference being that the attacks and defensive moves were not predetermined. Of late the formal waza has begun to disappear from my randori; it's being replaced by something else that I can't yet define or adequately describe. My partners still fall, but it's as though the throws are hidden in the motion. The whole exercise becomes an unbroken string of movement punctuated by an occasional slap of a hand on the mat as uke falls.
The following video clip of a 'grabs only' randori illustrates the point.
My training consists, largely, of practicing techniques over and over. Techniques are structured movements, patterned responses to predetermined attacks. They have identifiable forms that, while differing in small details, are essentially the same across Aikido styles. In and of themselves, techniques are mechanical vehicles for learning and internalizing the concepts that underly Aikido. I learn connection, congruent motion, correct distance, timing, extension of Ki while moving etc.
Randori is the literature of Aikido.
During randori the motions of uke and nage are removed from the structured dance of technique practice and enter into the realm of spontaneity. My uke is free to move unfettered by the constraints that govern technique practice and, likewise, my movement is equally unrestrained.
Early in my training, randori consisted of repeated attack/throw sequences, not far removed from the practice of individual technique; the obvious difference being that the attacks and defensive moves were not predetermined. Of late the formal waza has begun to disappear from my randori; it's being replaced by something else that I can't yet define or adequately describe. My partners still fall, but it's as though the throws are hidden in the motion. The whole exercise becomes an unbroken string of movement punctuated by an occasional slap of a hand on the mat as uke falls.
The following video clip of a 'grabs only' randori illustrates the point.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty-one
The touch of a single snowflake is but a whisper of force. Bring enough snowflakes to bear, however, and trees are felled by them; valleys are cut by them; mountains crumble beneath them. And still, the touch of a single snowflake is but a whisper of force.
The touch of my Ki upon uke during kokyu nage is like a single snowflake; until, that is, it isn't. At the moment our congruent motions reach the limit of his balance and my maximized extension, when he is at his lightest and I am at my heaviest, that single snowflake-like touch of Ki becomes an avalanche.
At moments like that I am fully aware of our connections; to each other, to the group around us, to the wider universe. The deeper reality of Aikido training becomes manifest, and while transient, leaves a little of itself behind each time. And so I continue to grow.
The touch of my Ki upon uke during kokyu nage is like a single snowflake; until, that is, it isn't. At the moment our congruent motions reach the limit of his balance and my maximized extension, when he is at his lightest and I am at my heaviest, that single snowflake-like touch of Ki becomes an avalanche.
At moments like that I am fully aware of our connections; to each other, to the group around us, to the wider universe. The deeper reality of Aikido training becomes manifest, and while transient, leaves a little of itself behind each time. And so I continue to grow.
Friday, February 12, 2010
One Hundred and Fifty
As I practice I realize that my movement shapes the space around me. Without physically controlling uke I nevertheless control where she may move in order to continue with her attack. And while she may still have many paths to take in order to reengage with me, her likelihood of success along any one of them is remote.
It’s not really that simple, of course. For uke moves as well and about her center, just as about mine, space is shaped, distorted, defined. And I can find myself caught in currents that threaten to whisk me from my path and move me from confluence to intersection with uke on her terms thereby increasing the probability of a successful attack.
Therefore I seek to occupy the center that is common to our centers, the point at which conflict becomes cooperation; where forces coincide and neutralize one another… where Ki flows freely and I become its conduit.
It’s not really that simple, of course. For uke moves as well and about her center, just as about mine, space is shaped, distorted, defined. And I can find myself caught in currents that threaten to whisk me from my path and move me from confluence to intersection with uke on her terms thereby increasing the probability of a successful attack.
Therefore I seek to occupy the center that is common to our centers, the point at which conflict becomes cooperation; where forces coincide and neutralize one another… where Ki flows freely and I become its conduit.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
One Hundred and Forty-nine
lots of bare brown branches,
evergreen needles tinged with silver
the light reflects
flecks of gold
emitted by the stubborn leaf
still clinging to its branch.
I let go of my knowledge
so as to make room for learning,
and who can say
where my Aikido path will take me,
for it is created anew
beneath my feet
and lost to the past
once trod upon.
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