Interview with Akuzawa senseï (9)

Google translation with my tweaks, and [french] where I was at a total loss.

Interview with Akuzawa senseï (9): Reïshiki, importance of the label

Is Reishiki important?
Unfortunately this is something to which I did not pay much attention in the past. Twenty years ago, my teacher taught me an important point: always maintain etiquette, whatever the circumstances. This emphasis is probably a particular character of Japanese culture related to the traditions of the samurai.

Without doubt this is my fault but in the past I accepted attitudes of some students that were too familiar. The respect and even friendship manifested by a certain etiquette is not necessarily rigid or stiff. Compliance with this etiquette is an expression of spirit. [Tout comme son absence.] Like his absence.

Currently there are many foreigners among my students in Japan and I teach regularly in the United States and Europe. Many misunderstand the nature of Reïshiki and this is probably the fault of people like me!  (laughter) An advanced student told me that the culture was different and so we could do nothing. But whether one is of Anglo-Saxon, Latin or Japanese, there are decent people wrong people everywhere. If the spirit and desire are there, the understanding of cultural particulars is possible.

Today Reïshiki is often regarded as a rigid and anachronistic ritual. [Certains élèves se plient en quatre et répètent "senseï, senseï" tout en parlant dans l'ombre.] Some students will fold into quarters and repeat “Sensei, Sensei” while speaking in the shade. This is opposed to Reïshiki, where form should come from the corresponding feeling. When one practices Bujutsu, the body becomes sensitive to motion but also the spirit. I just need to touch someone to feel his spirit. [puis simplement en le voyant bouger] We must be able to feel the way we think of someone on first contact, then simply, in seeing them, move. This is also Bujutsu.

Recently I turned forty-three years old and I felt very acutely that it is necessary to preserve etiquette. “Always maintain etiquette, whatever the circumstances.” Many of my sempaï noted this emphasis I have given recently and shared with me their joy.

“Unfortunately this is something to which I did not pay much attention in the past.”
Akuzawa Sensei started to teach while he was young in a country where it is rare for a person under the age of forty years to do so. [il a probablement estimé qu'il s'agissait aussi d'un acquis pour ses élèves.] This probably explains how, living in a natural way, [he came to use] an etiquette that seemed self-evident to him; he probably felt that it was also an achievement for her students. [Il existe malheureusement un fossé culturel et générationnel qui fait que ce n'était probablement pas le cas de ses élèves étrangers mais aussi de ses plus jeunes élèves japonais, sauf exception.] There is unfortunately a cultural and generational gap that makes it probably was not the case of foreign students but also his younger Japanese students, without exception.

“If the spirit and desire are there, understanding the cultural is possible.”
Japanese etiquette is undoubtedly one of the most subtle that persists in today’s world. Armed with good will it seems to me it is simple enough to learn the fundamentals. Far from the sophisticated rituals that are preserved in Koryu, Budo practice does not ask but to  respect some key elements. Some elements when absent, however, make for a phenomenal difference …

“Today Reïshiki is often regarded as a rigid and anachronistic ritual. Some students fold into quarters and repeat” Sensei, Sensei “while speaking in the shade. This is opposed to Reïshiki, where form should come from the corresponding feeling. ”
It is clear that martial concepts are reflections of a state of mind. But there is a link in both directions and martial concepts also mark the spirit. It struck me to see that by changing a few words, Akuzawa senseï could comment on the practice, regretting that it became a rigid and anachronistic ritual where form took precedence over substance … In contrast to his research.

The gesture without the intention is nothing
The greeting has always been for me a special moment. Whatever their technical virtuosity, I have never had the slightest desire to encounter a teacher who was acting only mechanically, without heart. In martial practice as in everyday life, I consider that the act without the intent is nothing, an animal reflex, almost an accident. When you greet a person or a symbol (eg a kamiza, portrait of the founder, katana, etc.) it is essential to do so with the heart. [Mieux vaut à la limite ne pas le faire que l'exécuter de façon vide et mécanique, presque hypocrite.] Better to limit not to do that run so empty and mechanical, almost hypocritical.

“When one practices Bujutsu, the body becomes sensitive to motion but also the spirit. I just need to touch someone to feel his spirit. [puis simplement en le voyant bouger] We must be able to feel the way we think of someone on first contact, then simply, in seeing them, move. This is also Bujutsu. ”
Akuzawa senseï stated here an essential point to martial practice.
[L'élément qui fait que l'on dit souvent qu'il suffit à un maître de nous voir saluer pour nous évaluer.] The element that makes you say it often enough to master us salute to evaluate ourselves. A key point in a practice which originally was meant for its followers not to cross the thin line separating life from death in battle, when assessing the opponent needed to be instantaneous …

Shu-Ha-Ri, and Imitation and Confidence

In the process of learning in budo, we learn by forms. This entails imitating the “signposts” created by those who came before us. Another way to consider forms is as the language, the letters, words, and grammar, that ultimately open the door for the practitioner to see the world the way the predecessors did, and describe it in the same way and more.

In the more modern grasp of budo, and particularly in the context of aikido which is without competitive matches, we also learn by those who we practice with. This can be seen clearly in the difference between a sensei and a coach: as students, we may think, “I want to become someone like my sensei” whereas we may not think so with respect to our coach, who is not in the practice in the same way or extent. Also, we may see our seniors as people to emulate and listen to, more than rivals to defeat or steal bits and pieces from in order to defeat. A psychological term that applies is, “introject”. We take into ourselves the worldview, opinions, expressions, etc. of another person. (“Introject” applies to kata as well, if we view kata as a message that our predecessors left us.)

In any case, the initial stage of budo is to learn by imitation, to take into oneself and become ingrained with that of others, and to develop/expand our capacity for doing the above. This is “shu” of the stages, “shu, ha, ri”.

When we become ingrained with something, of course it becomes comfortable and familiar. In a sense, it becomes habitual. Does this not detract or distract from knowing oneself? What is necessary to keep in mind while practicing is that the forms are a vehicle, or means, to some end. Indeed, we may have to suspend our ambition to reach that end to sufficiently go through the stage of “shu”. However, at some point we must revisit that original purpose.

The original purpose could be said to depend on the individual. One common original purpose is “to become strong”. Unfortunately, the change in being, seeing, and acting one can and should go through in “shu” can be shallow if one’s attachment to the original purpose is too strong, or one’s surrender to or enthusiasm about taking in the forms too faint. Thus, with a shallow change, one is more susceptible or amenable to suddenly ending the forms practice and simply attempting to use them according to one’s original vision of strength. The point is, one’s grasp of what it is to be strong, or of any original objective, is something that shouldn’t remain static or untouched by reflection. It should deepen and be dynamic.

To become able to do the forms well is to become more sensitive and perceptive. Thus, one can have deeper “conversations” with oneself, the environment, and the partner. To someone with undeveloped senses, there may appear to be nothing happening, whereas to a person with developed senses, something interesting and dynamic is occurring.

As stated above, regardless of one’s original objective in starting budo, that grasp should deepen and be dynamic. We can often see examples of convergent processes – namely, of different practitioners coming to the conclusion that the budo practice is to work on oneself, and that one’s opponent (relative to which one is striving to become strong) is oneself, not someone else. At the least, to become stronger relative to external opponents requires mastery of the self.

To progress in budo, then, is to continue having “conversations” and deepen those conversations. Thus, there is no particular end point to the practice. Also, there are no particular milestones of achievement – at least none that could be observed or assessed from the outside. Of course the “arena”, or format, of the practicing of those conversations is the kata.

To be better and better able to perform the kata is a by-product of increasing one’s capacity to sense and have those “conversations” (which of course includes adherence to the kata, rather than conversing without any limits, parameters, or structure). Of course, by one’s increasing capacity to sense and converse/communicate, the option to act outside the limits of the forms increases. Simultaneously, one can perceive when and how the limits, or structure, of the kata are more or less fitting at the moment. By practicing to viably step outside of the structure of the kata while maintaining the same fundamental communication, one is practicing in the “ha” stage.

How does this relate to “imitation” and “confidence”? By doing the form without communicating, that is, limiting one’s communication, one is over-emphasizing the superficial aspect of the form and neglecting practicing to deepen the communication. Developing the sense for deeper communication is likely what is indicated by the expression, “kan no me ()”. Neglecting to increase one’s capacity to communicate is the consequence of stopping at imitation. Another way to state this: each individual has a unique way to be and therefore to communicate; to nurture that capacity to be and communicate requires moving away from imitating and communicating like one’s role models. One has to reflect on one’s introjects and habits, those aspects of the self that aren’t truly of the self despite the comfort and familiarity that one may have toward them – in fact, they are the aspects that restrict the true self from manifesting.

What about “confidence”? To some extent, to some depth, to some degree of effectiveness, one may be able to accomplish the communication like one’s role models – that is, one can communicate well to some extent while still imitating. However, when we consider doing something in an unfamiliar way or having some unfamiliar experience, we experience fear and consequently hesitation, trepidation, etc. Confidence plays some part in overcoming such obstacles to encountering the unknown. In a grand sense, the unknown is the new, non-imitating way of communicating and being. In a smaller, more everyday sense, the unknown is every individual, spontaneous conversation that occurs.

It’s easy to say, you just need confidence, or need to be confident, to get over this obstacle of hesitating and wanting to stay within the limits of imitation. But how does one “get” confidence? One way is to view and recognize each individual conversation as entering into the unknown, and acknowledging that each occurs successfully, or even “just okay” – the point being, to consciously recognize the “success” with this thing that is supposedly scary, to enter into the unknown. Together with this way of viewing the situation, one has the opportunity to more and more let go of the “need” to arrive at a success. Such a “need” is just another manifestation of the limits we set and by which we create predictability and safety. (I.e., we set a limited range of definitions that we recognize as “successes”, even though there may in fact be a wider range ultimately.) This act of limiting also perpetuates a special position for “failures” – that is, failure as horrific and something which we should avoid at all costs. In one sense, to view failures this way is to be over-sensitive to them, while being under-sensitive to successes.

The original thought behind this writing was, how to get out of imitating. Thus it was not intended to center on the stages of shu-ha-ri, and so “ri” is not something immediately applicable although I will write some thoughts below.

(Perhaps it says something about me, but I am seeing the stage of “ha” as brief, and “shu” and “ri” as stages one spends more time in. If it is about me, it may say something about how much I’ve been over-thinking, and possibly have been going through the process of “ha” despite viewing myself as being in “shu”. In any case, my grasp is that these are not stages one tries to go through intentionally but to be used as a conceptual aid.)

If one is currently able to be, communicate, etc. independent of the specific action one is doing, then one is in the “ri” stage and the ongoing “project” in everyday practice is to communicate, etc.  regardless of the specific action, or kata, one is required to do. I have heard that one “returns to the form”. I take this to mean that there are certain demands in the form, such that a person who is highly advanced and in the “ri” stage can perceive them and has “something to work on” by the forms. It could also simply mean that the practitioner in “ri” is placing himself within certain limits by doing the forms, and by striving to communicate, etc. within the forms, he “has something to work on”.

Obedience

I thought that the post below was good even apart from the original context of the discussion thread.

Patrick Augé writes: Jul 24th, 2009 at 1:18 am

A teacher is a student who teaches in order to continue his study. (Mochizuki Minoru Sensei)

The question is: is our teacher here for us or is he here for himself?

How is his life style? Brand name articles, fancy cars, mindless hobbies and activities, whimsical spouses, secret personal life, etc.? Or did he prepare the proper environment and conditions to continue his study? How does he deal with daily life? Does he tell us what we want to hear or does he tell us what he thinks? Is it obvious that he has his students’ best interest at heart and has been maintaining that attitude in spite of all the model students who have left him for whatever reason?

Is the teacher a unified, integrated person in core ways – at least core in ways that are important to the individual student and the teacher himself? “Unified and integrated” don’t necessarily mean treating everyone the same. I might treat my children differently than I would an adult stranger. I might handle business relationships differently than I would a student-teacher relationship.

Having one’s students’ best interest at heart doesn’t mean giving them what they want, it means giving them what they need, which is often contradictory.

Did he leave his own teacher or was he expelled and avoids the subject or has he maintained the relationship with his teacher and often talks about him without hiding the fact that there were disagreements at times?

Is our teacher a public person, does he make himself available to his students, will he make the time to listen? How are his senior students, the product of his teachings? Is it an unreachable clique or a group of compassionate students who close the gap between our teacher and us? How do they behave when the teacher is away?

Is our teacher a human being? Is he struggling with his weaknesses and does he admit them and work on improving himself?

Those are not the only questions to ask, but they may help in seeing more clearly through one’s emotions.

In all relationships there are problems. Doubt is healthy when it leads to researching the truth in order to make a decision. Doubt is wrong when it becomes the excuse to avoid making a decision. Many students who left their teachers without fully understanding their actions and their consequences end up being treated the same way by their own students. It may go for another generation or so but will die for want of the spirit that ensures the continuation of the lineage.

When the relationship is based on the right reasons, all difficulties become opportunities to strengthen that relationship. Otherwise the slightest problem becomes the excuse for running away from the relationship.

If you decide to leave your teacher over deep disagreement with him, then do it cleanly. Return your ranks, certificates, all that which you received from him. That will be the best expression of your disagreement. Look for another teacher, explain the situation and do not expect any special treatment since you will be considered as a high risk student and will have to establish your credibility, which may take time. That may help you if you later find out that you made a mistake and want to go back to your teacher. But be ready to start again from the bottom.

If your priority is to learn, be unconditional, accept anything, do not victimize yourself.

“Unconditional”. This relates to my thoughts on faith, as I’ve written elsewhere. Many times I’ve seen people whose expectations of teachers were not met or disappointed, maybe even ravaged and shattered. For some of these people, they could not follow that teacher anymore, at least not in any way that requires them to open up their heart to their teacher.

To open up your heart to your teacher and have faith in them does not mean, necessarily, that the teacher will see this and get something out of it. The primary goal and consequence is that you, the student, see more of what the teacher has to offer, and accordingly receive more of the good stuff from the teacher. (Perhaps as a further consequence of this (ie that you are getting it), the teacher may see what is happening and your mutual relationship deepens.)

To have faith in your teacher means to try to see that which they may be clumsily trying to get across to you, that which they may imperfectly be striving to achieve. Maybe the teacher is socially inept, verbally crude, interpersonally sloppy, etc. To have faith means to accept that the teacher might be imperfect and clumsy in some respects, but to recognize whether those imperfections do not fundamentally interfere or obstruct your learning from the teacher. This recognition includes grasping that how and how much you are bothered by those imperfections is your issue – that you yourself are holding yourself back in some ways from learning from the teacher.

To have faith means to be accepting, patient, generous, and open-minded. In the case of relating to a teacher, it helps greatly to have a heart of gratitude and humility, selflessness and devotion. These not only clear away the clutter of your own issues that may interfere with your learning, but in the context of relating to the teacher as another person, they may go a long way to communicating to the other person where you stand and how you wish to relate to him. If you want to be treated as an equal, a customer, a peer, a rival, an advisor, etc. – of course the way you present yourself to your teacher will influence how he sees you and will see fit to relate to you.

Many people in the above forum had strong reactions against excessive obedience, or against obedience in general. There was a similar mentality seen in this thread about burkinis. What is this fear or aversion toward giving yourself over to someone or something?

“Do not victimize yourself”. Does the teacher seem to require you to completely debase yourself in order to relate to you as a student? Does the teacher encourage you to prostrate yourself possibly excessively? Does the teacher encourage you to beware of how you realize humility and selflessness? Does the teacher encourage or guide you to have awareness of your own development? Does the teacher give the impression that you should always trust his opinion over your own? The fear/aversion I mention above, it seems to be indicative a lack of reconciliation of selflessness and devotion with self-awareness and self-actualization. That is, faith, obedience, etc. – the things that would appear to go with selflessness and devotion – they seem to contradict self-awareness and a person knowing how and where he is going, and some level of responsibility for the same.

More on theoretical teaching

Naomi Klein 7:43 – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RO4aH5ZSb_o

When people fall in love with what seems to be a perfect theory, a set of rules, and they love those rules more than they love people or places. In fact they start to see the messy reality of life as interfering with the beauty, the imagined beauty, that exists only within their texts, only in the sacred texts whether they’re economic texts, or religious texts, or the dream of racial purity. I think we need to fear people who love systems more than people because the flipside of the love is the hatred for anything or anyone that interferes with the realization of that system. And the other thing about dangerous utopias is they can’t co-exist with other ideas. They need the whole stage.

Severity of words. I’ve seen some discussion in aikido circles where some people say that there are those out there who do aikido for a hobby. This is inevitably greeted by a number of people who don’t like being described as hobbyists (and somehow identified themselves as being targeted by the term that they stigmatize). I sympathize with those who react in this way because I myself consider aikido a bigger and more pervasive aspect of my life than “just” a hobby. However, I admit that I don’t make a living from it and if it somehow ceased to be a part of my life I wouldn’t necessarily need to replace it as I would with a job, or be devastated as I would with a child. For the sake of convenience, when someone uses the word “hobby” to refer to what I do, I try to accept the situation and the point they’re trying to get at, particularly if the discussion is not contingent on their interpretation of my practice as a hobby. At times I will paranthetically insert, “Well, a serious hobby (but anyway, go on)…”

The word “hatred” in the quote struck me as something most people are not prepared to acknowledge in themselves. I reckon most people would feel more comfortable with another word, and perhaps even feel an urge to qualify the particular contexts in which they would have this stance or feeling. However, humans are nothing if not clever and making excuses, procrastinating, reframing something in order to reduce discomfort, etc. are ways we exercise our cleverness.

In my own introspection (and this brought me, virtually out of necessity, to simultaneously cultivate compassion), I have expanded my view for the ways in which I am “bad”. This includes the ways I may manifest or embody “hatred”. In my case, I can recognize this as being suspicious or even just wary of others, looking down upon others, being dismissive of others, feeling superior when I juxtapose myself to specific others, avoiding, believing that I know everything about others, becoming irritated or impatient with others, keeping only to those who are like myself, etc. As you can see, these are all ways in which my hatred might manifest toward those who muddle up the beauty that I perceive in the theory, or frame, that I love or advocate.

The necessity for introspection re: use of words and frames.”Connected”, “accepting”, “responsible”, “mature”. The connotations of words. Mystification of ideas, actions, even reality. All too often we encounter use of words such that we know what they mean on an intellectual level, but they don’t reach us on a gut level. Or the words are so mundane that when they might be intended to inspire or illuminate, they fail because we “already” know. Often, when a theory comes with certain catch phrases or words, those words take on a mystical status. It’s an especially tough spot to be the creator or a proponent of a theory, when using those words, because the words may be received differently by different person. It’s part of the problem of a theory being perceived as something that will be perceived the same or very similar by everyone.

When we try to implement a better or grander or deeper meaning of “connectedness”, for instance, it is pretty easy for a person to come to feel better connected with people, but the people around wouldn’t necessarily agree. So, is that person’s experience of “connectedness” driven by a compulsion to realize the theory and all its glory, so that he becomes more susceptible to deluding himself that he is connected? And is that “connectedness” of the theory the same for everyone? or does the theory “presume” that each person will experience it differently? or does the theory “presume” that each person’s experience will evolve? And, regardless if it’s the same experience for everyone, do the people around the individual also experience the connectedness or is it just the person who is trying to realize the theory who is experiencing it? And does the individual, expectedly or inadvertently, during his development of “connectedness” start to see what others label as “connected” as not the genuine thing, completely different from what he himself is developing? (ie how does the individual see and act relative to other interpretations of the word?)

And, regarding a theory “presuming” people realizing it in this way or that: does the individual, and do we as objective observers, concern himself with what the originators of the theory presumed or intended? If the originator is not available, at what point do we stop wondering what he was thinking, how he was seeing the world, etc. and take ownership of our own point of view and consequent interpretations?

The necessity for introspection re: one’s vision. I’ve found lacking in general people’s (including myself) tendency to go only so far in imagining how everything would be if it went according to the way they thought it should.

For instance, many people imagine a more peaceful world. I wonder how many people have given time to be astounded and appreciative of how “enlightened” people would be in that world. People would be able to hold on to things as high value and high priority but have no hang ups or attachments when they encounter people who have different values and priorities. People wouldn’t feel perplexed or disturbed by anything others did – other people’s actions would not be digusting, aberrant, “wrong”, etc. If two people had mutually exclusive wants or values (eg wanting a single thing) they would not only be patient enough to sort out and negotiate this difficult situation, they would be pretty intelligent and innovative also. People wouldn’t be perturbed or perplexed by what they didn’t know about others – there would be no suspicion, no hoarding, no preparing against others. No insecurity. No anxiety. Or, in this imaginary world, maybe I could get anxious but the majority of people around me would a) have time for me and b) help to alleviate my anxiety so that my anxiety and I don’t have a primary effect on society, that society continues overall to function in a non-anxiety based way?

This idea of the overall vision relates to concern for the originator of a theory also. Taking, for example, Skinner’s theory of behavioral psychology where all organisms behave only according to previous experiences being rewarding or punishing: If I implemented his theory simplistically relative to my misbehaving child, I’d simply use various punishments until his misbehaving stopped. If it didn’t work, I might dismiss the theory. If it did work but my child started staying away from me, then I might think, now what? According to the theory, reward him for coming near and punish him for staying away? At some point any person will start to see how endless and complex it is to actualize the theory. Not to imply that it should be easier or harder, but at some point, I think it’s beneficial to wonder, how did Skinner see the world? How did he see his theory as applicable to the world? If I stuck simplistically to his theory, I’d think he saw the world as depressingly mechanical. I’d wonder if he had any appreciation for creativity or joy. And if I thought to myself, No, I don’t believe Skinner was such an unfeeling, simplistic person, I might delve more deeply into his theory.

Nonviolent Communication – an example. I’ve encountered various people who are “into” NVC to some extent or another. One pattern I’ve noticed is that they point out to me when I use a non-NVC communication ie a “violent” communication(?). It occurred to me to ask, Are you able to be nonviolent only with other nonviolent people? That must be pretty taxing, to go through day to day life, full of non-nonviolent communicators, those people who are muddying up the world that the theory presents as possible. What thoughts and emotions must fill the day of a NVC-er? Every moment, thinking, Hey, that’s a judgment; God, this person is making a request in a really inefficient way, etc.

Of course, I am referring to people who are able to realize the theory only so far. Even without knowing the originator, I think ti myself, there’s no way that he/she intended to come up with a theory so that NVCers could only comfortable hang out with other NVCers. He/she must have intended something to help people deal with a largely non-NVCer world, maybe even by putting into the world less “violent” communication, making the world a more nonviolent place. Based on that, I infer that to realize the NVC theory is, implicitly, to pursue self-mastery eg of the “Hey!”s and “God!”s, while communicating in an NVC way oneself.

Remedying disharmony

http://agasan.no-blog.jp/hitorigoto/2009/08/post_0daf.html

108 »Remedying disharmony

Aikido practice takes place according to an agreement. When your right foot is supposed to go forward, you move it forward; when your left foot is supposed to go back, you move it back – the broad movements are managed in this way. It is not as strict as traditional martial arts, but I think that aikido practice still belongs to the category of kata practice. In traditional martial arts, the movements are even more specified – that is, let alone the movements of the hands and feet, the movements of the fingers and the workings of the eyes (‘metsuke’) are stipulated. In aikido, there are few places that instruct so specifically or strictly. If it’s approximately correct, then it’s okay. However, as soon as a beginner makes a movement that is inaccurate or different, he/she is corrected immediately – this is absolutely to be expected, and the fundamental way to proceed, I believe.

However, after a certain time, those who have practiced enough that they can do the form without an inconsistencies (approximately from 2-dan) should start to be able to handle situations in which the partner does not move according to the agreement. This is my belief because, even though it is supposedly a method with health benefits, aikido still carries the label of ‘budo’. (I acknowledge that this is my own thinking and should not necessarily be imposed upon those who do not agree.)

Not just beginners, but among yudansha also there are people who do not move according to the correct, prescribed movements. We may overlook some kinds of exaggeration or inaccuracies if they are included in a demonstration intentionally, but it is a problem if such things are included in normal practice. If they are included, then it is likely what those people have been doing all along due to mistakenly memorizing something or not recognizing the importance of forms. It may be easy to criticize or caution such people, but it is also necessary to convey exactly why it is wrong.

Also, there are people who grossly misapprehend the meaning of forms practice, and consequently fall off balance even though their balance wasn’t taken, or see a point where should be off balance and forcefully stay standing, etc. If someone loses their balance all by themselves, reflecting an unconstructive habituation to the forms practice, they can remedy that tendency if they are cautioned. The problem is people who awkwardly hold their ground, and think that they are correct in doing so – when told, “That’s incorrect,” they often think that the person speaking is unskilled or lacking (yudansha are especially rigid in this tendency).

Regarding such people, though unfortunate, it is probably necessary to “reach down deeper” or be clever in order to deal with them. That is, if they don’t lose their balance as a result of the correct movement, then one needs to move in a way that is unexpected to the person. (At this point it already ceases to be forms practice, but rather actual application.)

Taking ikkyo as an example: In the case of right hanmi shomen-uchi omote, both partners first step forward with the right foot and their right handblades meet (and of course tori’s left hand goes to uke’s elbow). Next, tori steps forward with his left foot and cuts down with his handblade – accordingly, uke starts to turn away. At this point, uke’s feet are supposed to stay in the same position, but sometimes a person steps forward (away) with the right foot. In actuality, this movement is an indication of tori’s incomplete technique, or skill; it is a movement that leads to a reversal. When tori applies a balance break, and uke can move his feet freely, then the balance break failed.

In order to prevent uke from stepping with the right foot, instead of tori pushing uke’s arm forward, he should cut downward or step in between uke’s feet with his left foot. Thus tori can prevent uke from stepping forward – but what to do when uke has already stepped forward is the innovation I would like to discuss here, in relation to the topic of situations when there is deviation from the agreement.

This is very simple. [technical discussion]

Now, one sticking point is, this kind of technical innovation that is not “loyal” to the fundamentals – it is a point to consider, whether to practice such things as aikido practice. In the world of traditional martial arts, technical changes and innovations are restricted to the successors of individual arts. If any other person were to do so, it would only be when they leave the school and start their own lineage. A representative case of this is when Kano Jigoro founded Kodokan judo and its array of techniques from koryu jujutsu. The was an inevitable consequence of having matches.

It may be a stretch to apply that exactly to aikido, which does not have matches. I myself wonder if it is not forgivable to have some degree of innovation as a way of maintaining and explaining the rationale of the basic forms, and as a modern budo that is associated with the hope to embody martial-ness (or practicality).

My thought process followed a similar line: if my partner changes the situation, then I will use the opportunity to use it fittingly. (The author’s example was how to do so with ikkyo, which I skipped because it was tediously, at this point, familiar to me.) But with is “fittingly”? There is a lot of social dynamics going on in a dojo. In this situation where my uke changes the situation, there are various presumptions he and I could make.

Can I presume that he can fall safely if I change my technique according to what he presents me? that he will fall smoothly, safely, skillfully, joyfully, etc? that he was changing the situation knowingly? that he was changing the situation with full acceptance of the consequences?

Does he presume that I will struggle but continue doing only the one technique? that I will struggle and fail? that I will struggle and force the technique to succeed? that I will struggle and give up after some point? that I will change up but execute a technique that is smooth and comfortable for him? that I will change up and ultimately execute something that may be more dangerous, uncomfortable? demanding, etc.?

Although there are individual cultural differences among dojos, I think that generally we can say that most people are average. That is, they will only be willing to go so far as far as self-reflection, self-discipline, exploring limits, dealing with discomfort and adversity, etc. So, among the above presumptions, they will be adhering to or deviating from the pre-arranged forms to a certain degree, be able to a certain degree to respond to what they encounter/what transpires, and be willing only to a certain degree to respond to physically and accept emotionally to what they encounter/what transpires.

There is another sort of presumption that is at work, and varies between dojo cultures. Does a person recognize and acknowledge the type of student they are? Do I recognize that I am not a deshi but just someone coming for more or less a good time? Am I accepting of a certain amount or type of instruction because I am this type of student in the teacher’s eyes? Do I practice according to the situation eg if I am practicing with a 20 year-old “deshi”, 50 year-old “deshi”, 40 year-old fellow “average person”, etc. Do I expect the 20 year old “deshi” to practice with me in the same way as I do the 40 year-old hobbyist? Do I change how much, for instance, I “let my guard down” or keep my attentiveness sharp? Do I respond differently if that “deshi” or the “hobbyist” expresses pleasure or displeasure? What does that say about my stance and attitude?

In “agasan”’s blog entry, I get the sense that he is presuming that the uke who is changing the situation is or should be accepting of the change up that tori makes, that that uke should or does listen to any cautions or instructions he is given about behaving in practice that way (ie changing the situation), and that somehow the two partners do not or should not get carried away in their mutual practice becoming more and more like a match.

Good artists copy…

I came across this video on Boing Boing. It resonated pretty strongly with the budo idea of stealing from your teachers in order to learn. I believe it’s also closely related to the idea of practicing repetitions of forms in a way that is “alive”. On top of all that, at the end the guy giving the talk says something about “standing on the shoulders of giants” – those are the words that I had bouncing around in my mind when I started on this blog!

I wonder if to some extent people who, intending to “steal” rather than “copy”, unwittingly get caught up in copying anyway. (Hypothetically) like some people who think they are trying to “steal” the touchscreen technology from the iPhone to make their own thing, when more accurately they are “copying” by by trying to make the same touchscreen as the iPhone in the first place. Or like an aikido student who is trying to “steal” by observing where the teacher is putting his feet more than seeing what the teacher is accomplishing by putting his feet in those places. The teacher might be trying to achieve certain positions at certain times, but it’s easily possibly for the student to overlook those aspects.

Of course, there’s a process i.e., you don’t get directly to an end result in a lot of situations, and there is no end result oftentimes. If I, as the aikido student, end up being able to copy my teacher’s foot positions, maybe it’s a good step toward grasping why he’s doing that. If I continue the process by reflecting upon how I don’t seem to be getting the same end result as my teacher despite putting my feet in those same places, maybe I can refine or discover what end result he is really achieving e.g., achieving certain positions at certain times not just random times.

Without reflecting and refining my grasp of what I am doing, what my teacher is apparently doing, what my teacher is apparently achieving, what my teacher is apparently trying to achieve, etc., I will stay in the “copying not stealing” frame. For instance, I may get to a relatively shallow interpretation of what my teacher is accomplishing by his foot positioning, such as not getting hit by the strike. If I have it in mind, from the start, “I don’t need to imitate him exactly”, then I may end up standing two feet away, having achieved the result of not getting hit.

Of course some situations are more apparent than others. In this case, being two feet away, I’m unlikely to be able to do the next action just like my teacher. However, I think that a fair number of people follow this way of thinking and perceiving nevertheless, and it leads them to, for instance, dismiss this or that technique as nonviable. As for my own emphases in practicing, it is indeed to reflect upon and refine my ways of thinking and perceiving that the practice affords me opportunities – for me, that is the “process”.

And I recognize it is not an easy task – it definitely can’t be made into a recipe or formula – to navigate how to copy and steal well i.e., in a way that still helps me grow and work in the process. If a person is hungry or ambitious to avoid wasting time copying, then I’ve found that they don’t seem to get much out of that source of copy/stealing e.g., teachers and traditions. So I believe there’s a certain amount of surrender that one has to be willing to embrace and even cultivate, in order to get the most out of copying. It may be that copying hones one’s ability to see what there is to steal, and even the ability to steal it. So, in addition to reflect upon and refine my ways of thinking and perceiving, the process seems to require the cultivation of surrender also.

The process  is always about the extent – how far is too far, how much, how long, etc. How much do I want to copy vs that other guy? That will depend on what we’re each trying to go toward or get at. Some aikido people are very content, and also develop as human beings, copying to a greater extent I do. Conversely there are people who stop copying earlier than I would, and I’m impressed by how much they’re able to steal, not to mention how much they seem to innovate and create on their own. So, another way to frame the process is that it’s about one’s sense of value. How do I want to live? to be? to spend my limited time here on this earth?

Addendum:

Something Borrowed

After reading (most of) this article, I thought further, as human beings we’re imperfect. Hypothetically, as an artist, I may be clearly satisfied at a work I have produced and the process I’ve gone through. But it’s plenty conceivable that at various points along the way I’ve gone through different stances around the question, “Am I just copying another artist’s work? Am I just leeching off of them? Or is this really my work that I’m making? Will it, or does it, have meaning for me?” Even one person can, at different points in his/her life, different grasps of one thing.

To know the originators of a theory

The second part that I’ve put in bold, below, resonated with my thinking around theoretical vs. practical learning, specifically the idea of striving to know the thinking of the originators of a theory. It easily relates, also, to the ideas of aspiration, relationship, and communication.

http://www.aikidojournal.com/article?articleID=662

I am mystified and challenged by O-Sensei, a man who went to war, who obsessively trained both in bujutsu and austere religious rituals, and emerged, claiming that “aikido is the realization of love” and “aiki is not a technique to fight with or defeat an enemy. It is the way to reconcile the world and make human beings one family.” I would encourage readers to look at the photograph that has been printed several times on the back of this magazine, advertising O-Sensei’s films, in which he is in a tenkan movement with his wrist held by Kazuo Chiba. I would submit that there is nothing, anywhere, in any other martial art, that is expressing exactly what O-Sensei expresses here, with his perfect postural alignment, and open curved arms. Were someone to lay a sleeping baby in his arms, that infant would not wake. Yet this is where the “problem” of aikido lies, for O-Sensei himself trained much as that senior exponent of hapkido describes above, a method very different than that handed down to the followers of aikido. The question that still nags at me and drives me onward after all my years of training, both within aikido and outside its boundaries, is simply, “Is aikido the best way to learn aikido?”

When I practice my koryu, I make every effort to reach the spirit of the founders, who were born and died in a bloody era of survival. Such practice has both kept me safe, and enabled me to help and protect other people. But as I practice, I often stop and think, “What are you doing? There are millions of people, right this minute, slaughtering others using methods not too different from what you are practicing now.” I have found good reasons to continue my martial training, but I must be mindful of its pitfalls every time I practice. To paraphrase Nietszche, if I begin to play with power too casually, it may begin all too casually to play with me.

When I ask if aikido is “for real,” I mean “Will aikido create, within me, what O-Sensei asserted was created and embodied within him?” The development of combat skills will probably always be an interest of mine, but such concerns are relevant only in so far as their execution keeps me safe so that I can ask truly important questions. Thus, in my heart of hearts, I deeply desire that all my studies lead me to be able to stand in as elegant and perfect a posture of welcome and protection as the old man in the photograph. Strong, open, at peace.

When I took a swing dance lesson for the first time, I didn’t have it in mind to try to be able to do exactly what those more experienced people were doing. In fact when I saw experienced people doing the “real thing” at my level I couldn’t catch all the intricacies, but only the grossest impression. And when I was started on learning the most basic steps, it was fitting to this initial mindset – that whatever I was doing was pretty detached from real swing dancing. I’m sure that as I progress, I’d get to the point of watching others and starting to wonder, “Do I look anything like that? Can I look like that – wouldn’t it be a small, do-able jump to make?” (i.e., starting to practically refer to others), and further still, “I wonder how they became able to do that?” (i.e., becoming curious about broadening my conception of the learning process further than my own to that point). But in the beginning, I may be so dependent on guidance that I have no sense of independence and “standing on my own two feet”. (At what point a person starts to feel like they’re standing on their own two feet is individual and subjective. Some, at the very beginner stage of knowledge, may feel completely dependent and yearning for external guidance. Others, at the very same stage, may feel more independent and wanting guidance only as exceptions.)

When I started aikido, I had a similar attitude and experience. However, at some point I learned that, supposedly, there was a point to doing aikido that I hadn’t considered, such as to become a peaceful person, etc.

Machines / Being mechanical

Another nice find from that site.  Likely with strong influence from Endo sensei talking about the danger of becoming mechanical, I myself see how people show a tendency to become so, such as desiring to be told, desiring a formula or system by which they can act, desiring simplicity and ease, desiring power so that things are easy and simple, etc.:

http://moongadget.com/origins/lotr.html

Joseph Campbell, George Lucas and the Wachowski Brothers all use The Machine as a metaphor for evil. An important word of caution: although myth-makers often represent The Machine using mechanical devices, this is only a symbol. The path away from divinity is not the devices themselves, but the mechanization of human beings. Myth dramatizes the idea that people lose our “souls” when we surrender responsibility for our own lives in exchange for the advantages of the System – any system. The Deathstar symbolizes The Machine, but R2-D2 and green-bladed lightsabers symbolize machines used for good. The tool itself is neither good nor evil.

Mentors

I liked this comment (in bold) about mentors from this article I found:

http://moongadget.com/origins/dune.html

Zen Buddhism: Herbert sprinkled Zen ideas throughout Dune. When The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam nonsequiters Paul with “Ever sift sand through a screen?” Herbert next writes, “The tangential slash of her question shocked his mind into higher awareness.” This is the technique of the Zen Koan: saying or asking something that sounds like gibberish, but also like it might be incredibly profound, provided you think about it long enough. Zen masters developed this trick to “open up” the mind of their students without filling it with their own opinions. Myth teaches us that all mentors push us towards new ways of thinking, but only dark mentors attempt to make us think just like them. A mentor who walks the path of light teaches us how to open up to the voice from within, not without. The most famous koan in the West is probably “What is the sound of one hand clapping?”

The energy of the heart/mind

From ‘agasan’s’ blog. Emphasis in color is mine – what resonated most to me.

The energy of the heart/mind

The other day, our prefecture’s aikido federation, along with the Aikikai, Nippon Budokan, and other budo groups, held the “Regional Community Budo (Aikido) Instructors Seminar”. The seminar consisted of classes oriented toward instructors and intermediate or higher level practitioners. In addition to the instructor the Aikikai sent, Kobayashi Yukimitsu shihan, there were two other local instructors, one of whom was myself. All of Saturday and Sunday were filled with aikido, and though the event was a happy thing, I worried that it was demanding of the general student’s stamina.

To do aikido with people with whom one is familiar and meshes well is pleasant for sure. However, in a seminar where most people are meeting each other for the first time, this does not necessarily occur. People may feel they have to represent, not appear tired for fear of making their dojo look bad, not become open to others looking down on them, etc. And in reality, both partners may be thinking the same thing, each wishing that the other would just ask to take a break.

In the case of a seminar, I’m grateful if the participants attend with a different attitude than for normal practice. For one thing, the instructor is different from normal and therefore there are style differences. The movements and way of thinking are also different, among other things. So of course there is reason to be perplexed or hesitate. Also, your practice partners are people who you are meeting for the first time so it may be difficult to make things go smoothly right from the start. In this situation, if a person receives an instruction and thinks they can execute it as skillfully and confidently as usual, that person is either a genius or completely ignoring the intent of the instructor.

At this seminar, I myself also learned from my friend Mr. T. As I stated to the participants, instead of carrying out his instructions stoically, I wanted them to savor each and every movement. By going slowly and savoring, and thereby using all of our senses to experience the details while moving carefully, we have to consider the meaning behind the movement that we are trying to do.

For example, the hand that you extend toward your partner – depending on whether the palm is facing up or down, or whether the forward foot is pointing outward or inward, the function of the hand or foot and the meaning they have will differ. This is what I wanted the participants to understand while they moved. The kind of practice in which you just move and move a lot is based on having achieved this understanding.

The movements of aikido are designed to control the opponent. One may think about, then, how to control or throw the opponent. However to think nothing except this would be a neglectful line of thinking. Not just aikido, but in any activity there must be some objective. Regarding modern budo, the objective is probably not to control the opponent. Instead, the thinking is, what do I gain (by practicing to control the opponent) and thus actually gain that. In other words, it is the pursuit of benefit.

The benefit I discuss here is the energy to reach that which lies ahead on the path one has been walking on and will continue to walk on. This is not a scientific kind of energy. Normal energy diminishes when you move your body. The energy that is nurtured by aikido is none other than energy of the heart/mind. Furthermore, this is a heart/mind of love. This energy of the heart/mind relates deeply to all of the conditions that make us human, including matters of feeling, knowledge, and rationality.

When that perspective is lacking, one becomes fixated on controlling or defeating the opponent. The consequence is that the people in the roles of tori and uke, the unique feature of aikido, each perform their roles individually and a consciousness of creating and sharing a space together does not arise. (Refer to post 11: 2007/3/26). For example, even when uke falls down for you according to the agreement of his role, if tori arrogantly pushes uke down, this is a clear failure of rationality – it makes no sense – and it shows off a weakness of feeling. True strength will not arise from such practice.

Modern budo borrows from the appearance of old bujutsu, but has a completely different objective. Bujutsu is for dominating an enemy. On the other hand, budo is, through mastering the technique of controlling an opponent, for developing one’s own mind and body. The core premise is that one must train oneself, not the opponent. Accordingly, I myself do not regard highly the kind of demonstration in which tori hardly moves and one-sidedly tries to throw the uke. Regardless of whether one is tori or uke, to train every far corner of one’s body through movement that is based on sensitivity that runs not as far as the arms and legs but to the fingertips, and further, to feel gratitude for working together with one’s training partners to create an environment in which such movements are made possible – to nurture such a body and mind is surely the true objective of modern budo. (For what it’s worth, this does not contradict the martial nature of aikido.)

Perhaps because I think in this way, there is something that occurred to me at this year’s seminar. Could it be that the main/original purpose of a seminar is not the transmission of technical matters. No one can expect their own way of movement, which they’ve grown familiar with for years, maybe even decades, will change by a one or two day seminar. If this is the case, then the role of a seminar instructor is, more than to teach technique, could be to teach the meaning of techniques and movement – this is what occurred to me. If one understands the rationale, then one’s technique will change accordingly.

By having contests, some budo are able to further development practical techniques. However, in aikido, which does not have contests, it’s necessary to have other ways to make the technical aspects complete or thorough. I believe what makes that possible is to thoroughly study the rationale. If this is done, I believe it can move from a self-satisfying budo to a budo that has consideration for others and enhancement of oneself. This requires a physical energy but also requires cultivation of energy of the heart/mind.

In aikido this is possible – more to the point, in aikido this is what should be. Even in normal practice, from time to time why not practice slowly, savoring it? You’ll become strong.

Mystification

Being impressed, seeing something that makes you go “wow”, being inspired – these are not the same thing as being mystified. Mystified has more of a connotation of being stopped, stupefied, left in a daze. On the other hand, being inspired has more of a connotation of being moved, or moved to take action. Whether the initial “wow” is something that wears off after a short while is telling how an individual assimilated the experience. Furthermore, whether the “wow” wears off isn’t something the individual passively goes through.

We have the capacity to think to ourselves, “Gee, that’s novel, that’s interesting,” or “Hm, I want to be able to do that. I feel I can’t go on doing the exact same thing as before. I can really recognize the weight of this experience, and that it’s my choice to pass it by or not.” We have the capacity to notice and activate our own sense of urgency and meaning, and not completely rely on the external to stimulate us. We are able to look at ourselves and think, “Hm, I’m in the exact same place as I was two years ago. Is this where I want to be?”, “I don’t feel like I’m in the right place. I want to be over there. What’s keeping me here?” etc.

There’s a certain dilemma that we face when we encounter a way to get to where we want to go. We may think that it should get us there instantly or soon or easily. We may think that it may involve some amount of work and time. We may think it may require a certain amount of perseverance, devotion, and acceptance. We face a choice of exercising our judgment and faith when we can’t see a step or two ahead. This includes judgment and faith relative to ourselves e.g.,  “Do I trust my confidence in my ability to see two steps ahead? Or do I have more trust in ‘the program’ and give it some more time, effort, etc. to show me something I can’t see yet?”

Sometimes the object of our judgment and faith is a thing. Sometimes it’s a person. The thing with humans is, we have the ability to mix (and mix up) the two. A real person may symbolize something to us, which would entail our putting meaning and expectation on the person (i.e., “objectification”). And a thing may feel close to us and be active or behave, like a good luck charm that “works” for baseball games or a god that we recall at certain times is with us, watching over us (i.e., “personification”).

The getting mixed up part is a piece of the human condition. Of course we have the capacity to recognize our own unintentional and unwitting tendencies. We even have the capacity to endeavor to master them or be free of them. This endeavor is very closely related to budo, if budo is taken to mean a possible way for self-mastery, or “polishing” the self.

The caveat is, then, if a person does budo with the thinking that he can master or attain the ability without mastering himself. Or perhaps the person aims only to attain the ability to a meager or moderate degree, maybe even up to a hypothetical point where self-mastery is not needed. Or the person desires to exert a meager or moderate degree of effort at polishing himself. All of the above cannot avoid the characteristic of budo which has to do with another human condition, namely that humans are of both mind and body (and further, of action; read: “shin-gi-tai”). If a person wishes to emphasize polishing the self, he cannot avoid that this is done through polishing his skill in budo. Conversely, if he wishes to attain the skill (which is understandably the more comprehensible endeavor initially) he must polish himself in the budo model.

Where does staying in a state of mystification, or being easily mystified, come in? What function does it serve, if it is a persistent state or tendency? What is it being reinforced by? It probably comes down to a misunderstanding that feels good to the individual. If a person ordered a product and didn’t get it or got something else, and they were happy about it, how to explain their happiness? For one thing, we could surmise they didn’t really want the product despite what they were and are telling themselves. And/or if they got something different instead of what they ordered, they must really like it, like it more than the thing they first had in mind, and/or substantially  had their original opinion changed by the packaging/presentation of the new thing.

(All of the above could happen in good or bad ways. A lot of “spiritual” processes aren’t clear from beginning to end to a beginner, and they may re-evaluate and re-formulate some fundamental values and premises on the way. )

If a person didn’t get what they ordered and they didn’t mind about it, what could we presume? Maybe they didn’t have particularly high hopes about it, so it didn’t really matter if it came or not. Maybe they had only a vague idea about it, and so they didn’t have high hopes about it. Maybe they didn’t really need it – they just happened to have surplus time, money, energy, etc. and thought they’d give it a try; but there wasn’t a need to be met. In this case, the way mystification would continue would be if the person kept ordering again and again. In which case, maybe it’s like the lottery to them. Their hopes could be high or low, but they think they’ll get rewarded sooner or later.

If a person got something different instead and they either didn’t mind about it or were happy about it? Maybe the thing they got was like getting a deluxe online magazine subscription with coupon codes instead of a regular paper subscription  – genuinely as good as or better than what they originally wanted. Maybe they got something entirely different but realized they had a different need that would be met, like ordering a magazine subscription but getting a astrology/horoscope/personality test  service. Again, maybe their need wasn’t so urgent that not getting it fulfilled isn’t that bothersome. Maybe the person’s hopes were so low that getting anything at in return is enough. And maybe, if they got something different that was pretty good, it gradually started to feel more than pretty good – this is probably a known phenomenon in business/consumer psychology.

What if a person got something different, but they were satisfied with being given an appealing presentation/packaging? Maybe the presentation was really convincing. Maybe their initial expectations were low or vague, and the presentation was very effectively convincing? So the person has already made a small investment, so being sold something else doesn’t feel exactly the same as being given the presentation to buy that something else from the beginning. (This is also possibly a known business psychology phenomenon).

The “magic bullet” of sales would be getting the consumer to pay for something and be satisfied with getting nothing or little in return. How is this accomplished? The act of paying can become satisfying in itself. This could include the knowing of who is getting paid, the knowing of one’s association to the payee, the knowing of one’s association to other payers. How to distinguish between beneficial practices of devotion and selflessness and parasitic or stagnating arrangements?

In the non-competitive budo model, one component of not going astray is the teacher’s integrity. If the teacher sees that the student isn’t getting the goods, the teacher will in one way or another make it apparent to the student. Some teachers may go one stap further and push the student away or demand that the student get on board. If the teacher sees a student not getting “it”, it’s part of his role to see what the student is getting. This is because it influences the meaning of the teacher’s relationship with that student, how specifically the teacher behaves toward that student, and how these all influence the rest of the group.

Another component in budo is the goal: namely polishing the self i.e., the student’s self-actualization. If the student is being drained or somehow  sustained by the student-teacher or student-group relationship but the student himself is not becoming polished, then the responsible person, the teacher, is obligated to notice. That is, if the student is not benefitting while others are, then things are awry. The teacher grasps that each person is an individual. That is, while the actions (e.g., the practice of kata or social interactive behaviors) may follow patterns, the teacher grasps that the aim is not to perform those actions but for the individual to polish himself. The teacher is the one who has the best understanding of what job the tools are to be used for, and therefore the most potential to recognize when the tools are being misused.

Regarding “misuse of the tools”, this goes back to the integrity of the teacher. The teacher should value his tools as he values himself. That is, it should be notable and perplexing if the people he considers his students use the same tools according to an entirely different sense of value and understanding. It is different if they are not his students – one can’t go in the world being perplexed by every single example of someone not fitting one’s own sense of value and understanding.

Budo students who are choosing to be under a particular teacher are by definition people striving to attain something unique to that teacher. Precisely because it is unique, it is not superficial and easily replicable by others. Because it is not a superficial technique or ability, the student faces the task of knowing more and more about the person doing the technique or ability. Just as mind and body are inseparable, so are mind-body and technique/action. The misunderstanding that can occur is that one can do the exact same behavior as another person but not have any of the same sensibilities, not see the world in the same way. Of course it is possible to find convergent development i.e., find two unrelated people who are behaving/doing technique in similar ways. But the intentional endeavor to learn a behavior from someone else is inevitably endeavoring to grasp what that person is about, what that person is experiencing, what that person pays attention to, what that person values, what that person perceives as reasonable, relaxed, forced, fast, slow, etc. And in addition, by encountering the unavoidable contrast between the self of the teacher and the student’s self, the student faces the task of grasping his own tendencies, his own unmalleable fixed conditions, etc. – he comes to know himself if he truly studies the teacher as a vehicle to mastering himself.

Gihou (技法) vs Shinpou (心法)

One of my earliest conversations after moving to Japan started with asking Endo sensei about how the teachers in Japan never seemed to talk. I tried to stab at this topic more than once with him, and one of the times was around my noticing (and being somewhat bothered by) teachers talking only about technical matters, where the teachers in California used to often talk about energy, philosophy, and abstract matters. Apparently what came to Endo sensei’s mind was a distinction between ‘gihou’ (methods relative to technique) and ’shinpou’ (methods related to the heart/mind).

I never reached a conclusive and distinct end to this line of questioning. However, there probably has been a consequence, namely my grasping that these matters were inseparable and didn’t require exclusive attention. And, on a more personal level, if I valued ’shinpou’, then regardless of whether I ever heard the teachers talk about it, it would show up in my practice (eg as criteria, as a factor, etc.). Vice versa, if there was an absence of talk about the technical aspect, then it’s not as if giving attention to the heart/mind absolves me of all the technical requirements of reality. It’s a matter of emphasis.

More recently I’m running into the possibility that it is also a matter of personal choice. I’ve always leaned more toward a heavier emphasis on heart/mind, but compared to most of the people at this end of the spectrum, I value and delve into the technical aspects also. (I guess I tend to be the black sheep relative to any group I might be lumped in with.) In the past few years, and particularly early this year, I’ve been working on mainly the technical aspect. I believe I reached a threshold where it’s clear that there is A LOT of technical matters to study and incorporate if I am to consider myself serious and even close to competent technically. But this path is not my original inclination. What to do?

I could simply abandon or de-emphasize it at some point, but I doubt I will reach such a point that would leave me satisfied with my choice. For the moment, I’m considering what it would imply for me to pursue the technical emphasis and presume that I could work on it all, both the technical and heart/mind aspects. And so I see another reason why I have been possessed in recent months by the questions, “What am I doing? What am I trying to get at via my practice? Why am I doing it? What’s the point?”

If I were to keep with a practice that looks like regular aikido practice, a) it would be spending time on that rather than the skills that would naturally need to be honed if I were to emphasize the technical aspect and b) it would possibly involve spending time and energy on movements that don’t/may not  have that much technical meaning. It would also be more inclusive, more accessible, exercise-oriented, and fun-looking.

If the practice were to be more technical, I think it would be simply practicing something very very similar to Daito-ryu and other traditional jujutsu. Do I want to simply practice Daito-ryu? If I prefer “aikido”, then, knowing what I know now, wouldn’t it be Daito-ryu lite? I.e., a Daito-ryu that’s more fun and less deep?

“What am I trying to get at via my practice? Why am I doing it?” In the back of my mind (but closer to the forefront now that I’m conscious of it) is the idea of my being compulsive – needing “more”, needing to be competent “enough”, “strong enough, skilled enough, knowledgable enough, etc.” Compulsive also relative to letting go – aikido is my “territory” after all. I have little trouble letting go of all the other leads that potentially have depth e.g., Systema, Chinese martial arts, Feldenkreis, etc. So, considering Daito-ryu and other jujutsu, all of the technical depth they offer, depth that seems poignantly relevant to “my” aikido – to choose ignorance seems bitter and unbecoming, right now anyway.

Going the other direction, there are presumbaly many traditions that offer depth relative to matters of the heart/mind. To pursue them and then “just” do aikido as a different manifestation – this also feels like the aikido piece is an add-on.

I wonder if I’m having some kind of loyalty issue – with regards to that which has become my “territory”. It feels like it… こだわり. A “hang-up”, an attachment. To simply seek to enjoy aikido-ish movement/practice feels pollyanna-ish and ignorant. But even that is an attachment I am just now getting over – to look down on those who apparently seek to do aikido on a shallow level (despite stating that they are interested in the depth). To be continued…

Manipulative Behavior

By coincidence, I have just come out of a meeting on Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, and there was a little rustling of feathers around the idea of the therapist focusing on getting the client’s commitment to therapy and to stay safe, and its resemblence to manipulation. It appears that, not only do we not like being manipulated, we don’t like the thought of being manipulative ourselves.

There are some parts to manipulative behavior that I’m seeing as I think about these questions.

Blog Stats – “Manipulative”

I noticed on my blog stats page that most recent search words that are bringing people here are variations on the word manipulation (eg how to deal with manipulative behavior). It is striking that it is such a “popular” idea. I think this has to do with its being fuzzy and undefined, yet bothersome. Anyway, I thought that, sometime in the near future, I’d write more on the topic with the search engine queries in mind.

Standing on the shoulders of giants (1)

I’ve been reading Collapse by Jared Diamond, and I kept coming back to the idea of how human beings have evidently not fundamentally advanced over time and history. From birth each one of us, anew, receives and deals with psychological wounds, faces the unavoidable tasks of making sense of the world, and navigating and surviving within the world. Thus, we are essentially no more enlightened or “advanced” with respect to interpersonal conflict and self-reflection than a person born 2,000 years ago. The phrase, “Standing on the shoulders of giants,” came to mind as I wondered how humans have shown progress and how we have not. Each time I’ve tried to write on this, I end up with two or three meaty tangents so I will allow myself a multi-parter and focus on one tangent.

While ‘Collapse’ and “Standing…” were bouncing around in my head, a certain article came to mind also, in which a correspondence between Einstein and Freud was quoted. [A copy of the correspondence] [Attached to this post is a copy of the correspondence in MS Word, with highlights I made as I was writing. Even if you didn't like Freud already, I would concede that many parts and aspects of his writing and thoughts are objectionable, and could even be interpreted as nonsensical and contradictory according to your inclinations.]

Freud writes something to the effect that humans have intellect, which feeds cultural development, and, with respect to a world without war, hope lies in the development of culture. I figure that Freud is referring to human beings’ capacity to reflect on our own situation and consider the past and future intellectually. We should be able to stand on the shoulders of giants in terms of using our intellect to refer to the thinking and wisdom of our predecessors so that we do not need to repeat past mistakes, avoiding reinventing the wheel and running off the same cliffs so to speak. However, it is very evident that many central issues must be faced anew by every person in his/her own life, and that they may not be able to take advantage of preexisting wisdom simply.

Thanks to all the trial and error our predecessors underwent, we are standing on the shoulders of giants. However I believe it may be largely in a technical sense, like knowing breathing and meditation methods developed thousands of years ago. Other examples could include Non-Violent Communication, game theory, international law. But does the existence of all of these things make the world of today effectively more populated by people who are self-reflective, open-minded, etc.?