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”.

Theoretical Learning

Below is a reworked but messier draft…

Theory can give a thing a semblance of order and structure. It simplifies. The pieces in the theory can then be more thoroughly identified and become bite-sized and comprehensible. The pieces make sense relative to each other i.e. they’re internally coherent. The organization and the simplicity enable the student to examine and understand more deeply. In short, a theory can be a tool that helps look at the thing in question.

1. It can be like a map that helps you go into new territory, although it may not account for everything you encounter and it may even be inaccurate (e.g., outdated) in some ways.
2. It can be like a sporty car tire that helps you go faster and have more control, although it may make for a bumpier ride, restrict what surfaces you can go on, and wear out faster than a regular tire.
3. It can be like a hammer that pounds in nails, although it is not meant to drive screws or cut wood.

Theory and Value. (“Value” could be thought of here as synonymous with “criteria” and “priority”.) By the very act of simplifying, a theory omits some details and includes others. By such discriminating and emphasizing, the aspects of a situation, and accordingly of courses of action, that are pointed out to a person using a theory will vary. The more accepting a person is of a theory, the more they will accept its emphases. The more one accepts, or takes in, certain things as being important or not important, that person is internalizing a sense of value.

At first glance, this could be taken as possibly occurring in a cold, unfeeling way. If I’m gradually internalizing a particular sense of distance, for example, not only am I paying attention to distance, I’m also gaining a sense of what distance is more comfortable, what is too close. The emotional content is often too easily dismissed. When someone hits their target, there is a probably a feeling, like “Yes!” rather than a Terminator-like distant awareness that a target was hit. When someone is about to hit their target, there is also probably a feeling, an urge, also. Although through self-mastery and mastery of skills, we strive to reduce the degree to which our feelings stand in our way, without any urges or motivation we will not excel or hone ourselves, but stay in a state or level where no particular “specialness” (e.g., concentrating, being curious, etc.) is necessary. (Of course a relevant paradox here is that at the highest levels of self-mastery one can be “usual” (‘heijoushin’) yet act in very refined ways. Yet the recognized process is that one eventually, gradually, ultimately attains a “usual” state, which is to say one is not that way from the beginning nor forces his way there too early.)

There is a dynamic, not static and unchanging, relationship between progress (i.e., increasing one’s capacity to realize the theory) and an individual’s grasp of a theory. As they both improve, they affect each other. In the beginning, when a person is putting a theory into action, they may be very limited in the range of situations they’re able to realize the theory. Depending on whether or how much a person can act freely in a situation, their valuation of all the aspects of the situation will surely vary accordingly. That person will perceive, notice, appreciate, dismiss, fear, avoid, embrace, wait, become harried, become defensive, etc. about the situation and its aspects depending on how he can (or feels he can) act relative to that situation. If a person perceives a possible situation to be hopeless or pointless, or pleasurable and safe, that perception is based on that person’s current sense of value. If you perceive someone as rageful and not listening, you may look down on them, stay away from them, not care or want to comfort them, perceive no conversation as being possible, etc. Regardless of whether you identify your values as respectful, caring, curious, compassionate, etc. if you perceive the situation as impossible for you to act on those values, then in reality (i.e., the effect, the consequences, etc.) it is virtually the same as if you did not have those values. And whether or how much you can act on your values depends on how you have developed your capacity to act until that point. And your capacity to act is closely related to how you see and assess situations, and how you form your expectations of situations.

Also, a theory as compared with a tool can define what “good/poor use” is. If we get a hammer and everything starts to look like a nail, then we use the hammer to fix things, say a stuck doorknob, and we may not mind leaving dents and dings in things. And we assess situations as changeable, doable, “can’t be helped just live with it”, “everything’s fine and if you’re bothered or hurt then it’s you’re problem”, etc. depending on the way we see the world as we conceptualize it – and conceptualizing the world and how we can be or act in it is what a theory influences us in doing. If we have a hammer and encounter something like a pillow or sponge, then we may perceive that there’s no job to be done at all because we’ve “developed” to the point of judging jobs that really really don’t fit a hammer as not doable.

Critiquing a theory. Just as there can be presumed no theory that fits reality without any adjustment, assimilation, or ‘filling in the gaps’, there is no one reason why a theory doesn’t “work”. One individual may struggle to progress as a particular theory prescribes “progress”, but ultimately progress in another direction. Another may struggle to progress in general. Is the tool very difficult to learn how to use? Both of the above may be “reading” the theory accurately or faithfully. Yet others may find themselves going in similar directions due to prematurely, inaccurately, or shallowly interpreting or assimilating the theory. Does the tool, say a hammer, influence you to identify and neglect jobs, say seeing everything as nails or not nails? So there are any number of reasons as there are individuals for the implementation of a theory to go awry.

Another thought is that a theory may fit poorly with reality. While this may be the case, there is often another (mis)judgment often made: that a theory doesn’t fit reality when in fact it is very deep or complex and the depth and understanding required by the individual is accordingly extreme. Many people give up on aikido and conceive a personal interpretation of its implementation after a premature assimilation. Many people form pseudo-religious beliefs based on a premature grasp of actual religion or even actual science. When there are a great many people around who are examples of the theory “not working”, we may assess that the theory is bad. But in fact it may just be a case of seeing a very widespread, common tendency among humans to do that same thing – in this case, to prematurely assimilate a theory and possibly use it for something other than what it was originally meant.

To take religion as an example, there are many functions and manifestations. One is to use it for a way to create and maintain a certain order or social organization. Another is to, as an individual, find meaning and efficiency in one’s life; by finding “peace” and “purpose/meaning” a person doesn’t expend excessive amounts of their energy and time on this earth worrying, fighting needless battles, etc. Certainly these aren’t the only functions but with even just these two examples we can see potential overlap. An individual may find meaning in creating social order and harmony through religion, for instance. However, another individual may find meaning or peace in creating a social order by oppressing or controlling others; if we see many examples of this, we may judge that religion in general is at fault or is a risky tool for humankind to use because it can be misused.

We may see a specific theory or religion as having ‘too many’ failed or bad examples and judge it not to ‘work’. We may also see a specific religion and find its orientation very much a ’stretch’, foreign or bizarre, and thereby not be interested in what it puts into order and helps to navigate, let alone how well or poorly it navigates it.

There is possibly an American take on this, at this point. We in this culture tend to desire rationality and order. A tool is either good or bad. If it’s not, then it’s completely relative. It seems to be difficult for people in this culture to see it as ‘good in most cases’. Hence most people’s views on theories such as aikido or religion tend to be very personalized or very generalized. That is, we have a conception of “this is how I and my group implement it” and, often times simultaneously, “these (ways a, b, c, etc.) are how others implement it” as opposed to “this is how people generally implement it and here is how my group and I specifically do so, but in general we are all doing the same thing.” This latter approach seems to be held by many to some degree but it begins to fall apart at a relatively shallow level. For instance, we may say, “People doing aikido generally are seeking some sort of peace and thriving, but the way those people over there do it is either a very different understanding of peace and thriving or at the least I can’t see myself implementing the theory as they do.”

Objections to learning/acting from theory as opposed to practical experience seem to be a mix of several components:

1. “Does the theory try to …” This wording reflects a confusion around personifying the theory, and also mixing up the originator, or original intention, of the theory and the proponents/users of the theory. Does the map try to account for every rock in a forest, every bench in a city? Does the sporty tire try to drive on all surfaces? The question is better phrased, “Is it meant to do such and such?”
2. There can be a distinction between what the theory describes and what it prescribes. Does having a map mean you’ll get to where you want to go? That there are no cars, construction sites, or pot holes to watch out for?
   
3. Related is the matter of, how much do we expect the user to adapt his behavior so that the theory is useful? And how much do we expect him to think on his own, to be able to fill in the blanks?  If one street name described on a map is changed from when the map was made, is the rest of the map thrown out of whack? And how much would we expect to be reasonable for someone reading the map to be thrown off? If a sporty tire was designed to fit well-paved, smooth roads, would we assign responsibility to the person who chose to buy it or the people who maintain the roads, if the local roads were not well-paved? If someone who’s never seen a hammer or nail before receives a hammer and pot of stew that needed stirring …
4. Another related matter is, what if the user uses the theory poorly or for some other purpose than originally intended? Do we blame how much of a “gap” the theory left for the user to have to figure out? Do we assess how much effort the user made in figuring out how the theory should and could be used before they made their own interpretation? Do we go and find out what the originator of the theory intended the use to be? How much effort do we make to put ourselves in the originator’s shoes? If we see many people using the theory in one way, particularly poorly, do we rely on their apparent assimilation and use, or do we find out for ourselves? If we see others riding around with sporty tires and putting up with heavy vibration, do we accept that that’s what we should put up with also?
   

A theory that doesn’t stir up objections probably does not deal with something that is complex or has many exceptions, and is clear earlier about what its scope is. Unfortunately, human beings exhibit a yearning for simplifying complex or inexplicable matters, and therefore give much attention and feeling (e.g., hope, skepticism, suspicion, longing) to such theories.

A person who prefers not to learn or act from theory, and instead prefers practical experience, probably does not like the task of filling in the blanks (“reading the manual” before taking action), figuring out what the originator of the theory was thinking, or relying on a “manual” or “troubleshooting guide” instead of figuring it out on his own. Such a person may also know that putting a theory into action requires some kind of figuring out anyway, so why waste time on potentially irrelevant details and levels of detail.

- that is, does the tool actually do the job well? and does it do the job it is presumed to do? Another objection is how the tool can influence which jobs the user perceives. If I have a hammer, maybe I only look around for nails, maybe everything starts to look like nails. If I have a car with off-road tires, maybe I’m looking more often at dirt paths and overlooking paved roads. So I might start doing some jobs poorly because I try to use a tool that isn’t the best fit. Accordingly I may gradually see less and less how it isn’t a best fit – that in fact it works just fine. I reckon that most of the time the blame gets cast on the theory or the very idea of learning from theory. Other times the blame goes to the teacher of the theory. Fewer times, blame may be associated with the student and his/her ability to figure out how the rubber meets the road.

The proponents of a theory, both teachers and enthusiastic students, will at some point prescribe how the rubber should meet the road. By prescribing, not describing, the person gains an expectation that the world will happen according to the theory and not the other way around. If the expectation is strong or stubborn, it reflects an attitude by which the person does not want to be disappointed, contradicted, etc. – in any case, this is a tangent about how the expectation is held by the individual.  The expectation itself is a reflection of the proponent’s grasp of the nature of the road, what can be expected to happen when they meet, etc. This entails emphasizing and dismissing different aspects as important or not (e.g. does it matter if the tire makes noise against the road, does the tire need to be on specific rims, etc.). “How the rubber meets the road” is also related to presumptions regarding the theory. Is the theory meant to encompass all cars and surfaces? Does a proponent of the theory presume it to do so? Does the person presume the theory to be a formula or recipe that will somehow fit all of the possible variations of circumstances? Or that the circumstances are not so complex or variable that the theory couldn’t account for them?

This is problematic when the proponents are seeing the situation very inaccurately/skewed and rubber wouldn’t meet the road well in reality. So the theory might be very much in an imaginary world, out of touch with reality, regardless of how internally coherent it is. It is also problematic when the rubber meets the road in reality only if the rest of reality would fit with the theory (i.e., the theory is extremely limited to specific situations in reality). With respect to theories involving people, it is indicative when the proponents of the theory, in order for the theory to be valid, need to have a lot of “bad guys” and people who “don’t get it”, and excuses in general. And it’s not that having excuses and exceptions  is nonsensical or delusional, or invalidate the theory. In the case of tires, we could say that road noise actually doesn’t matter if we’re talking about an off-road tire. In the case of people, there may actually be people who are exceptions, such as people under the influence of drugs, people hearing and reacting to sounds that aren’t there, etc.

In my own experience, I try to notice when my learning of a theory starts to demand changes in my sensibilities and values. One of the main, common changes demanded is regarding the situations that fit the theory. For example, I may learn counseling skills, which usually are in the form of talk therapy. However, the things that I learn, such as giving voice to one’s experiences and feelings,  may not work with people who do not describe their own internal experiences well, whether due to lack of vocabulary or lack of awareness, or both. So does the counseling I know only work with aware and educated people? Does counseling work with only certain people? And if I wanted to counsel unaware and uneducated people with my current capacities, would I have to give them vocabulary lessons and awareness training first? And if they didn’t want to do those lessons and training, would I dismiss them or tell them that their problem is lack of motivation as evidenced by not wanting to take my lessons and training? In the end, if I made these demands (because my theory doesn’t meet the proverbial road) I wouldn’t put my theory to use unless reality, or the “outside world”, fit the client. What would “counseling” mean to me, then?

In the context of aikido, the rubber can meet the road in several ways. One way is the cliche topic of “does it work in a fight?”. Would I demand that my opponent attack only in specific, “aikido-type” ways? And if they didn’t accommodate me, I wouldn’t put my “aikido skills” to use but instead hit them or run away? What would my grasp of “aikido skills” be, then?

Instead of dismissing the theory, I might revisit my grasp of the theory, as well as how the theory has been presented to me by my teachers. The best example is when my teachers demonstrate to me what is clearly the theory meeting the proverbial road. Depending on how they perceive what they are doing, they might say it’s the theory at work or that it’s just how they do it. In other words, depending on how the teacher frames it to me, the student, I might see them teaching me via theory or the practical application.

In cases where it’s framed as the theory, there might very well be (to the student anyway) a big gap between what the theory is saying, apparently, and how it functions in reality. How to bridge this gap? I think it depends on both the skill of the teacher’s teaching and the student’s learning. Both of these are related to a sense of value. Specifically, more than what to emphasize or dismiss regarding the rubber meeting the road, but how to develop oneself as someone able to meet the road. That is, whether I meet the road or not, how, as the student, am I developing myself?

If I am a student counselor, then I may learn talk therapy as well as art therapy so that I can work with various clients. What if I never learn of dance or movement-based therapy? If at some point I learn the principle that by learning talk therapy and art therapy, I am learning about various ways clients might express themselves, then the idea of movement-based therapy might not be another “add-on” to learn. Likewise, if I learn the principle that aikido is about how to move oneself and touch another person (that happens to be taught via certain forms), then if circumstances don’t allow me to move according to a form, my body may still have a sense of how to move skillfully, and if circumstances restrict me to touching a person in specific ways different from the forms I learned, then perhaps I will still have a sense of how to touch them.

Both learning from theory and from practical experience may address only how the rubber meets the road, how to expect the road to be, how the rubber should be, etc. However, the common point that makes either or both of these approaches work well could be the consideration given to how the student and teacher are continuously developing themselves to be the “tire”, and how to be regardless of whether they will meet the “road”. As well having and developing awareness regarding what one is valuing as important or dismissing as unimportant is crucial.

Seminar – taking stock 2 (Atari & “Hitting the structure”)

There is another thing that I realize I’ve walked away with from the Aikiweb seminar, evidenced by how frequently it’s been popping into my mind. It is the phrase that George Ledyard used, “hit the (partner’s) structure”. This phrase fits so well that I am tempted to say I prefer it over the expression “tai-atari (体当たり)”, which would be the original term I heard. Perhaps tai-atari would show its usefulness in the connection to “ki-no-atari”, which of course leads to an early point, namely that there is no absolute distinction between body and ki, or body and mind. For now, I had a train of thought run through my mind based on “hitting the structure”.

With variation among schools of aikido, there are place where the partners pause. E.g., after nage does the turn in tenkan/tai-no-henko; the first cut down in ikkyo omote; the first cut down to create kuzushi for kata-dori or katate-dori ikkyo, the cut down after the initial irimi movement in irimi-nage, etc.

What the examination of pauses boils down to is, what possibilities do you have from that position? The scope can be as narrow as, can you and your partner go to the next proper step in the form? It might be wider, such as can you extricate yourself from that position and continue attacking, possibly with the other hand, without opening yourself up to all manner of techniques and attacks? From this general question of possibilities, the examination is no longer restricted to the codified pauses in the forms. It’s anywhere uke’s balance is broken, which direction they fall or stumble, and how they recover. And, possibly the extraneous question, how to still “be uke” in that the interaction between nage and uke is completed with uke falling or being pinned.

What the idea of possibilities has to do with “hitting structure” is that in order to have the possibility of acting on a partner, one must be engaged with them. That is, I might have many possibilities by disengaging, staying away, and making noncommital gestures to engage, but none of them will give me access to the possibilities of interacting with or acting upon my partner.

The more or less codified pauses are points at which uke can check whether they are organized enough to a) hit the nage’s structure with their structure (as opposed to with only their arm) and b) move in accordance with the next step in the form, or more precisely speaking, move such that the next step in the form is fitting (or else the nage can either forcibly continue the form or change to something else that is more fitting).

Offhand there are 4 ways in which the interaction can go.

1. Uke hits nage’s structure with his own structure.
2. Uke hit’s nage’s structure only partially (eg with muscular strength only).
3. Uke hits part or none of nage’s structure (eg only the arm) but with his own structure.
4. Uke hits part or none of nage’s structure and without his own structure.

There’s a fifth way, consisting of uke leaning on nage. I’m presuming that this gives uke the sensation of pushing on nage. Suffice it to say, using one’s body to push and to lean are quite different actions. At the least, leaning creates the potential for falling, and likely makes acting upon uke’s body by nage a completely different action. Utilizing the fall is probably primary and not necessarily easy.

One way that it is not easy (if uke is leaning skillfully, like a good tackle), is that nage must still be moving with his structure, not just any old way. A skillful tackle will fill up the “space” within nage’s body such that nage may be literally backpedalling, or unable to use his body with the feeling of backpedalling.

When one “grows up” in a particular school, they learn where to stop and how. The “how” part might not be examined very deeply, though there might be a sense of accomplishing it better or worse. Another piece that might not be examined is “why”. From what I myself have seen, both students who do and don’t come from schools where these “pauses” are practiced struggle to one degree or another when faced with the examination of “how” and “why”. This examination is probably presented to students familar with pauses as pausing in unfamiliar places and times, with consequences relating to what happens after a pause. These students may at least have the possible advantage of having something to translate to become more flexible or generalized. To students unfamiliar with pauses, the examination is likely more of a struggle. For one thing, if a student is used to continuous movement, they may face the demand of organizing their body only at a few points, such as at the very beginning or very end of contact with nage. If demanded to pause right in the middle of flow, their body organization might be lagging behind, accustomed to the luxury of catching up later in the flow, or jumped ahead, knowing what the next leg of the flow will be like. Or perhaps the student might not even be behind or ahead, but simply doing an approximation, sort of like counting from 1 through 10, “1, 3, 5, 34, 2, 78, 5, 9 9.1, 10″, used to getting by within the loosest of criteria. If a student was suddently corrected that this was not really counting from 1 to 10, they might have some justified response, indicating the criteria that they’ve been using, such as “I counted 10 numbers didn’t I?” or “I started with 1 and ended with 10 didn’t I?” The student who is already used to pausing may be used to counting correctly from 1 to 10, but struggle with the task of struggle with the task of counting from 1 to 20 using whatever numbers they deemed fitting. For both, the examination of pauses may seem nonsensical.

Progress, and reliance on teachers

A conversation topic that came up recently was around attending seminars and having contact with one’s shihan. (As an aside: the topic brought up the feeling of reactance within me because it felt like it was “drenched” in common sense and was part of the impetus for my writing Common Sense and Reactivity.) In the conversation, it was clear there was a difference in the amount of experience, and consequently the outlook, of myself and the other person. We had quite different views on the role of a teacher in one’s practice, the ways in which one is responsible for and creates one’s practice, and the role of a teacher with whom one does not have frequent contact.

When I myself went “guru seeking”, over some time I found that there was no such thing as a guru, while simultaneously I discovered how interesting and deep the things were that I had presumed I already knew relatively well and were not so deep: namely, basics. I also discovered how many different sources of inspiration and stimulation there were, as opposed to solely my main teacher. While I never achieved the feeling of having found “the one (guru)”, my teacher guided me in some tremendously significant ways, almost always in a very subtle, nondescript manner. Though I wasn’t conscious of it at the time, my teacher was there to relate to me and for me to relate to him, even when it wasn’t explicit. By simply relating and communicating with me, his teaching occurred in such a way that I kept and developed my autonomy, self-motivation, and self-discipline. Despite my receiving such encouragement to stand on my own two feet, I am now revisiting the idea of how much I was relying and leaning on my teacher.

In what ways have I been “leaning” and “letting my guard down”? For one thing, I was able to presume that my teacher was watching me and would give me feedback or guidance from time to time based on what he saw. My presumption was supported by the fact that I did in fact receive such feedback – furthermore, it was always meaningful. Another thing was, when communication happened, verbal or otherwise, I could rely on his fully listening to me and taking me seriously. Conversely, he conveyed to me that I should try to be serious, not lackadaisical, and attentive as well. In other words, it was not only words and information that was shared, but feeling and attitudes also. In relation to nonverbal communication, it could not be clearly concluded what was given and received by each person. So when I had the feeling my teacher was doing a behavior that related to me (e.g., observing me or imitating me), he would be straightforward and honest about it, without necessarily going out of his way to verify it for me. That is, he did not make an effort to hide anything, without necessarily making sure we saw everything. And sometimes, when he felt like it or when we got close enough to what he felt was meaningful, he would communicate to us on the general subject, whether it was directly relevant to our understanding or what he thought was a relevant tangent.

In summary, I could rely on my teacher, if no one else, to see me deeply for what and how I truly was. I could rely on him to communicate to me what he perceived, whether it be a verification, reflection, or critique. I could rely on him to be honest and transparent about himself, and still end up being someone I could aspire to be like myself.

So, then, without a person in my life without these things, am I totally hobbled in some ways? If I rely on these things, am I forced to stop without them? Intellectually, I can see that, despite receiving the benefit of certain valuable things from a teacher, I should not be reliant upon those things in the exact same way for my entire life. At the same time, as human beings everything is not always obvious and simple, and sometimes we need to stop and make an effort to take stock of what is and isn’t. Currently I can tell my heart protests and doesn’t like the prospect of losing a valuable support. But I know in my head that it is already lost and the time is now appropriate for me not to have it – thus it’s more a matter of accepting the reality of my current and next life stage.

The topic of whether a person “needs” to see their shihan every month, every year, etc. and have the same, un-evolving relationship forever is moot. I can only imagine it is troubling for someone who find it difficult to see themselves practicing and teaching along side their teacher someday, with the same knowledge or ability that seemed so grand and unattainable years ago. Another aside: when I was seeing a therapist as part of my own therapy training, I had a clear realization one day that I had internalized his lines of inquiry. I found myself asking myself the same things he often asked, things that I did not notice by myself, initially. By internalizing (maybe the terminology is “introject”), in a way I became independent. On one hand, I didn’t need him to actually ask the questions – I could pose them to myself. On the other hand, they still didn’t feel (initially anyway) like my questions. Until they are mine, perhaps I am relying on him.

Judging

I like analysing people. Now I try not to focus on judging others, guessing what they are like and what they might be thinking about, but I still watch others in the street to observe the way they walk.

Since I can remember, I’ve never really gotten how people seem to use the word “judge”. It seems to carry a negative connotation. “Assess” seems to make some people feel better. I wonder if people’s negative take on “judge” has something to do with perceiving that one is separate with others, that one can observe the world and not be a part of it.

I have a thing with posture. It might have something to do with my bad eyesight. I notice posture/comportment from far away – it enables me to identify people when I can’t see their face. Not only do I notice it in a pure sense, I notice it in a subjective sense i.e., if someone’s posture is really bad or really good, I take notice. I can acknowledge that I’m noticing because it’s good or bad – I don’t mind too much saying so. Perhaps this is when people don’t like the word “judge”. “Who are you to say that person’s posture is good/bad?”

But the bottom line is a significant part of why I notice what I notice is due to my subjective experience of the thing. The above has been about good/bad, possibly beautiful/ugly. What about other dimensions?

For example, at some point in aikido I started to pay attention to whether a person really meant to attack and experience the prescribed technique of the moment with me, or they meant to sort of attack, sort of let me do the technique but more fall down by themselves, sort of attack but be more concerned with blocking my atemi, prevent me from doing what we’d supposedly agreed upon, etc. This is not a simple good vs bad kind of aspect, yet I would say that it has to do with “judgment”.

Subjectively, the degree to which I experienced my attention being drawn to this aspect probably puts me more at the sensitive end of the spectrum. It was something that pushed my buttons. Thus it was about attachment and something I have worked on. However, though I’d like to be free of the attachment, I never thought to give up on becoming a better and better judge of people’s intentions.

As I got more and more accurate, and more and more free of becoming attached/captivated, I became more and more able to see the situation. The current situation as what came before and what’s reasonable (not forced) to happen next. Thus, in aikido techniques, the interaction with the partner could happen earlier, time-wise. However, from my perspective it is happening at the right time. “Early” is only relative to the point in time I perceived our interaction as starting as I would have reported one year ago, ten years ago, etc.

If someone is about to attack me in practice, and I can tell they don’t like me or have some problem with me, I try to see it, see how I am with having perceived that, and accept it all. If I don’t like that I’m feeling my partner is being suspicious of me or scared of me or whatever, I don’t think to stop judging  – stop judging because I might not be right or because judging only introduces information that is possibly useless. Not only is it (to deal with attachment and greater self-awarness) part of my area of interest and motivation to do such a practice as aikido, it is also relevant to the execution of technique on an “aiki” level, territory I think I’ve started to delve into recently.

As a human being, it makes sense to me to take into account how a person’s emotional state is when I am try to see all of how a person is. As a human being who is in the learning process, it makes sense to take advantage of my strengths in the process; if I am more adept at noticing certain details, I should continue, not stop, to refine the noticing of those details so that it serves me in my learning. If I notice something because it makes me feel good or bad, so be it. It is not the assessing, judging, or noticing that is counterproductive but the attachment to and captivation by the same.

Learning, “Sunao” (again)

Re: Got pwned by boxer =-(

I’ve been getting a kick out of reading George Ledyard’s recent posts on Aikiweb partly because he bothers to post what I feel it’s too much trouble to partly because he manages to express what I will become very tangential about, and partly because he hasn’t posted in some time.

One thing I’m revisiting is “stupid” questions. A lot of questions virtually all of us have at one point or another are likely good and valid questions that simply arise too early relative to our current level of understanding. The correct or fitting answer to the questions would be incomprehensible and unsatisfying to the person asking. Thus the fitting answer wouldn’t necessarily be to the question, as if it were in a vacuum, but to the person asking the question. However it’s easy to confuse the two – at least it is for me.

I think it is incredibly arrogant for our current generation to assume that knowledge that has been handed down in various arts for hundreds of years is now suddenly outdated and irrelevant and that we know better.

The assumptions and the corresponding questions above are coming out of a certain perspective or understanding. It’s not that the questions are arrogant. It’s more that, because the questions are valid, the person asking presumes that the perspective from which the question originated is valid also. That is, the perspective/understanding is overlooked, and this is what is arrogant. The arrogance manifests in reality when an individual moves on to the next step of, “So, based on my understanding and the resulting question, how to change my current approach so that it answers the question? That is, I believe my understanding, that the current approach isn’t cutting it, is accurate. All those other people, I don’t think they’ve asked this important question; or, if they have, they went through the same process I’m going through now in order to answer it, which is to change my current approach.”

Some people recognize this and “humbly” go back and work on their understanding eternally. “Questions are bad. Just keep practicing.” As a rigid approach, or tool, this is bad. The questions might be useful and productive if kept in mind while one’s understanding develops. But the motivation to keep, or keep wondering about, the question is valuable.

(Likely when one has an image of “arrogance” and “humble”, they are more of the emotional, or charged type, such as “snobby”, “condescending”, or “quiet”, “self-derecating”. For both of these qualities I am considering the overcertainty/overconfidence in one’s apprehension, not the affect, so to speak. )

It takes some individual innovation, which is definitely catalyzed by exposure to and inspiration from high level practitioners, to come to see a way of doing the same thing but in a different way. Outwardly it is mostly the same, but something is mysteriously different. The shallow, or possibly arrogant, way is to only imitate the outward appearance. But the key to depth is to continue to wonder what is happening inwardly that results in this thing we can see outwardly. Not just see, but feel. Thus, working with receptively a high level person is crucial. By following their trajectory, so to speak, but inevitably being on another trajectory as another being and therefore facing the issue of knowing and accepting my own trajectory, it’s possible to surpass them or go in such a way that the comparison becomes moot.

3) None of the ones I know advocate training in a “fully resistive” training environment. The folks who believe that kata training is dead and lifeless don’t understand kata training. If it is dead, lifeless, done by rote it isn’t proper kata training. Traditionally, the senior person always took the losing role in paired forms. Why? Because it was his job to ASSIST his junior partner in developing his understanding of the movements and principles at work in the kata. It was his job to control the interaction in a way that his partner was forced to access the proper skills. It was not his job to shut him down or to fight with him.

As my level becomes better able to shut a person down, I’m better able to regulate controlling the interaction. If the other person’s learning experience is a part of my agenda, then my aim is to require them “to access the proper skills”, which specifically means requiring them to do the particular movement form, or manifestation of particular principles or dynamics, which includes making it nonsensical to do other forms or principles. At one part of the spectrum, I might make attempts to do other forms/principles impossibly difficult. At another I might leave it possible but awkward; this would be based on the expectation that the other person have some inclination for inquiry, noticing for him/herself that it feels awkward and seek a less awkward way.

6) Aikido is the study of connection. The term “aiki” is best thought of as “joining”. It is the combination of the physical and mental in a way that allows on to move an opponent’s mind so that he moves himself. This requires complete relaxation both physical and mental. It requires letting go of our attachments so that we can step right into the path of a sword cut without fear.

The endeavor to become able to step into the path of a cut is to acquire a skill, which inevitably has mental and physical components. This is probably where one can make the presumption that the mental, and by extension “spiritual”, aspects of the endeavor are self-evident. However, people don’t naturally have a tendency to perceive, savor, and embrace their experience, instead repressing and perceiving just enough to get by. Surely the reasons for this are a whole discussion topic in themselves. Endeavoring to not repress but instead consciously incorporate the mental aspect of acquiring and honing the skill is central.

If you wish to reprogram the body and the mind to fundamentally trust that relaxing and accepting an attack is the response that can make one safe you must provide a safe environment in which to do so. Traditional paired kata training provided a structure within which the practitioners could take things right to the edge in relative safety.

Providing safety and security for others is a theme that relates to a lot of conflict in human history. Virtually always we have a rationale for seeking more security for ourselves, taking priority over giving it to others. It starts to feel like giving it to others takes it away from ourselves. Maybe be human beings inherently have a tendency to feel that there is never enough security. In order for me to trust my practice partners enough to give me space to drop my defenses, I would need not only their word or their intention but I’d need them to follow through consistently. Those with the ability to follow through are probably those who are skilled. People who are skilled are not necessarily inclined to give others space to drop their defenses. So an invaluable asset for me as a newer student is a senior who is able and also actually following through in giving me some coherent, rational, and meaningful space to practice relaxation and exercising specific behaviors and mental patterns.

But one thing is certain, as far as I am concerned… you will not learn these very sophisticated skills training in a competitive manner. Aiki is about developing physical and mental sensitivity. It requires that you shut up the internal dialogue so you can listen to the partner / opponent. If you are tense you are feeling you not the other. That’s true both in the body and in the mind.

…If your practice develops your understanding of how the Mind and Body are unified and that on a fundamental level your are simply not separate from those around you, regardless of whether they see themselves as your friend or enemy, then the art “works”.

If your training merely results in your ability to throw or lock an opponent who doesn’t wish you to do so, then the art hasn’t “worked”, not in the way that the Founder intended anyway.

Wise mistakes

Short quote from “In the Beginning was the Command Line” by Neal Stephenson:

Sometimes their lack of a broad education makes them over-apt to go off on intellectual wild goose chases…

It resonated with me for some reason, as I re-read this essay after some years. The most obvious reason it resonated was because I agreed with it (or I found it agreed with me, or it was agreeable to me, etc.). However there is one very obvious part of it that was different from what I’d been thinking. It was different but still fit. Where I had been thinking “wisdom”, he writes “a broad education”.

My conception of wisdom is some sense of efficiency related to achieving comfort, avoiding trouble, finding peace of mind, accomplishing one’s goals. Experience is one component for sure. Another is receptivity and openness. Yet another is constructive self-doubt and ego. One finds oneself making fewer mistakes, taking into account one’s weaknesses, wasting less time as one becomes wiser. How one oneself experiences this could be a combination of gut feeling as well as some insight (eg knowing why one is apprehending a situation as one does, why one is behaving as one does).

One presumption I may have been making was to consider wisdom outside of the context of education level, so that it would apply to someone with folk or street smarts.

What comes to mind now are people who succumb to mystification of one kind or another and spend a lot of time pursuing that myth, look at things from within that myth, while simultaneously viewing themselves as knowing and inquiring “enough” or even more than average.

Three contexts in which this is apparent are aikido, psychology, and international/multicultural being.

In aikido, one may have a teacher who is truly skilled or just impressive or convincing. That is, the teacher doesn’t act as a catalyst, directly or not, for the student to venture out from their comfort zone and experience things “outside”. “Outside” could be practice in a certain manner in the same place with the same people. It could also mean in unfamiliar places, or with unfamiliar premises, emphases, frameworks, beliefs, and values. Despite staying within comfort and familiarity, one can certainly find things to work on and challenges, to all of which one can say, “I’m doing my best!” But a) how to tell if those things and challenges are in fact worthwhile or going to lead you to what you wish to arrive at, and b) how to tell if the way you’ve been going about it thus far has covered all the possibilities. The most powerful limitation of possibility is not knowing you are limited. If you’ve gone to the ends of the earth according to the map you’ve been living by, then of course why would it occur to you to venture further or look out elsewhere? How could you possibly see the map differently when it already makes sense? It tells you the edge of the earth looks like so, you go there and see that it does, the map tells you that there are stars and moons out there and here’s how to get to them isn’t that challenging, and you find that yes, it is challenging isn’t it? That is, here are the techniques, here is what’s important to consider when doing them, here’s how to do them well or better, yes it’s challenging, off you go now, practice practice practice!

If I originally see things in terms of angles and off-balancing directions, what process might I go through when I practice aikido with folks who are more concerned with energy and flow? I might be able to conceptualize whether they’re doing the same thing I’m doing at all. I may also be able to see how it can be so. Based on the broader education of these two paradigms, when I encounter an aikido that has as its premise partners’ reactions to openings for strikes that aren’t necessarily taken by the other partner, then I may more quickly see what they’re trying to accomplish with what they do, how they do it, and further down the line how it relates to what I was doing originally.

Psychology… That one’s way to big and many – I’ll leave it alone.

Culture. That one is close to psychology but again it comes back to how to see oneself, recognize the lens through which one sees and experiences. How can you know your own culture to any conscious level without seeing how other cultures are. I’m sure many people living abroad would say something along the lines of, “The longer I live away from the US, the better I come to know this culture, the more and more I know in my bones I am an American”. It’s really difficult to know that one doesn’t know without contrasting experiences. The questions precipitated by contact with other cultures (“Why do they eat like that? Why do they show respect like this? Why do they not care about time like us? Don’t they want privacy like you and me? etc.”) will make it much easier to organize and make into bite-size chunks the things one subsequently notices, sort of at least, about one’s own culture. So there’s the experience and exposure. And the education probably does a great deal as far as training one to verbalize, ask certain questions, follow certain lines of inquire, and possibly even have tools to see the tools with.

Article by Sugano sensei

Link to Sugano sensei article

What Is Aikido And What Does Training Mean To Us

Progress

When it comes to progress, I think we may have to ask how progress relates to aikido. In a sense consciousness to achieve or to progress is the essence of sports. In the world of sports, one is considered to have achieved his or her goal when that person becomes a champion.

However, aikido exists outside such a frame of progress. There is no clear attainment point in aikido no matter how many years one practices. In other martial arts, the results of practice are clear by the number of people one threw in a lesson. Aikido has no such clear results. One must meet the demands of self learning. It can be hard to continue aikido unless one has a desire to constantly learn.

I believe such a desire entails exercising a capacity to revisit and evolve. For example, at first, one may have the desire to be strong. What form this desire takes depends on the current state of the individual. At first, it may entail learning the technical curriculum, grasping the philosophy and its implications, and knowing to some extent the history of the art. By learning the technical curriculum, one faces certain demands. Then one’s goal may evolve to focus on the patience, self-awareness, humility, and perseverance to realize the precision of the technical curriculum. Next, by encountering all the complications and confounding situations that prevent precision that don’t necessarily lie inside oneself, one may focus on one’s relation, attitude, apprehension, and reactions with respect to other people. If one desires to be among other people in a way that one would define as “strong”, then one would face the realization of being weak or lacking in various contexts. One’s weakness in the various contexts could not be overcome the way it would, apparently, as in the context of an aikido practice where one may do so in the physical dimension. Revisiting and re-forming one’s goals is closely related to constantly learning.

The teaching method, too, is an important subject. In the case of sports, there are matches, so there is a clear result. Since one’s progress is apparent, the teaching method has always been studied and evaluated. Meanwhile, in aikido, the basic teaching method whereby students repeat the throws and techniques shown by their teacher and then repeats them has not changed from old days too much. It is important that the teacher tries to make the training meaningful for the students, and it should be done with an intention to help the students develop their ability. No development or the progress will be made only by showing one’s strength and preeminence.

The teacher’s purview is only the development of aikido ability. It isn’t to counsel you to become a better husband or type up reports faster at work. Thus, despite every student coming in with their individual histories and current issues which they may somehow relate to their aikido practice, the aikido teacher doesn’t directly meddle with any of it. Thus it can only be the student’s responsibility to improve or otherwise affect their life outside of their aikido practice. Of course to some extent the teacher could have a part in inspiring the student to connect their aikido practice with life off the mat.

Progress also depends on how the students would like to practice. One might simply enjoy training as recreation. For those people who would like to train seriously, it will be more interesting and helpful for the development of their abilities if they have the right kind of teaching and opportunities.

In Belgium, I teach classes called “inner school” in response to the solicitation of students’ desire to learn further. I initially limited the classes to only 40 students with black belts.  I call it a school program, rather than a seminar. It takes place in a training camp form. There also was a request in the Netherlands, so I started the school over there, too. Even though there are only few of these schools, there are people who wish to attend programs like this with great interest. I believe that more places and more opportunities should be given to such people.

Levels of Understanding

In aikido, one learns by experiencing through the body. This alone would only result into physical experience, even after 10 years of practice. If one continues practicing for many years, of course, the body becomes strong. However, the level of understanding can still be doubtful.

Everything is learned physically as a result of experience, but to display what has been learned, some verbal expression and other methods become necessary. Hence, one should find opportunities and try to learn various things outside of aikido.

Osensei realized it in the Omoto religion. I don’t think one could fully understand the discipline of aikido without something like that. Learning by the physical experiences certainly is important, but I think it is also important to experience something new besides aikido to stimulate one’s thought and brain.

It is necessary to study basics things without being disturbed by one’s own mood and the feelings. The lesson method of aikido is left to the decision of each instructor, and this is a good thing about aikido. If strictly codified, the independence which is the merit of aikido is lost. Of course, balance is important, but I think it is better that one has a good level of skills, specifically posture, the sense of maai, directionality, the principle of the sword line, gaze and so on. It is often seen in enbu (martial art performance) that people just stand straight before a partner waiting for the attack. This is because there is no awareness of the sword line at all. Osensei frequently talked about gravitation training. Gravitation training is for learning how to lead and go together with the partner’s movement. One can learn this using katatetori.

Such basics can be learned through body movements. In other words, the principle of aikido skills will be understood through the apprehension of body movements. Small details of each technique are different, depending on the individuals, but there is always a sense of maai and directionality in any technique. Therefore, as long as there is an understanding of the principle of the skills, it can be applied to all movements. That understanding is indispensable to progress to a further stage.

Gordon Ramsay

I was watching clips on Youtube of Gordon Ramsay for the first time recently, mostly of a reality show, “Hell’s Kitchen,” in which he’s leading two teams of chefs to compete against each other. As he is famous for, his way of interacting is extremely confrontational and aggressive. As I was watching, I took note of the fact that I was identifying more with him than the contestant chefs, and had some thoughts related to teaching and hierarchical relationships.

1.  One book that has left me with an impression is Erich Fromm’s ‘Escape from Freedom’, in which he writes about power, sadism, and masochism, relative to socio-historical trends. Another salient train of thought in my head is about defensiveness, security/confidence, and relationship. How does all this relate to identifying with Gordon.

The simplest aspect is that it’s easier to identify with someone in a position of power than not. “It’s good to be the king.” Also, I’ve been playing with the realization that it is a defense – a subtle one – to look down upon others. And since the human psyche has a knack for making any way of seeing the world and others make sense by selectively seeing certain details and assigning significance and associations to them in certain ways,  so it can go for this way of defense. Furthermore, not only can one selectively see certain aspects of the world, one may also gravitate toward certain situations and environments as well as participate in creating one’s own situation.

For example, one may see the failures and hiccups in others, and not their successes and innovations. One may unconsciously find oneself more frequently than not in situations where one is more experienced or skilled than others. One may create a situation/environment (e.g., a school) where one can be the experienced person. One can contribute to the “excuse” of getting to, or having to, look down upon others, such as by bettering one’s own skill.

Having been on the student side of a difficult student-teacher relationship, I think that in a good relationship there is some appropriateness/fittingness which, for humans, could also be synonymous with communication. Receiving harsh feedback from a teacher, no matter how true, is not always constructive. Of course it’s not impossible for the student to dig deep and make it constructive within him/herself. However, part of a good student-teacher relationship is the teacher making the student dig just deep enough. If the pattern is becoming evident that the student is not able to dig deep enough, then the teacher would be wasting his/her time in continuing an unconstructive pattern. If the teacher continues to do something that isn’t benefitting anyone, then the focus on the teacher should be revisited. That is, what is the teacher really getting out of it, by acting in that way? If it’s supposedly to serve the student but isn’t actually doing so, then it’s possible that the teacher is working out his/her own junk and diverting focus away from him/herself, while putting the onus on the student.

2. One thing I noticed was that, of course, depending on how someone was spoken to, their reaction was relative to the thing that was said to them (e.g., your sauce is too spicy) or to the way it was said to them (e.g, “I wouldn’t give this to a pig by mistake! You donkey!”). When the person being spoken to, the recipient, felt affront more than anything, they would comment on how Gordon spoke, how he made them feel, or how they themselves were (e.g., “I’m qualified, I know what I’m doing, I know how to make this sauce”, etc.) Their being occupied primarily by the affront prevented them from noticing the valid observation or advice, such as that the sauce was, in fact, too spicy. This also happened quite clearly when some contestants tried to exert superiority and take charge over others.

In the context of this show, Gordon has virtually complete authority over the contestants. If they don’t like it, they can quit and leave. If he doesn’t like it, he can do much to ensure that they have to leave. If they disagree, they can’t say so. Apparently Gordon has also acted as consultant to restaurants that were going out of business. In such cases, if the restaurants didn’t like it or disagreed, Gordon could terminate the relationship.

How does this parallel a student-teacher relationship? How does it relate to being a student? We would expect the student to be there voluntarily. However, we might expect the teacher to have less weight, as far as being unpleasant or poor at teaching. Perhaps the teacher relies on the student being there, such as for income. Perhaps the teacher strives to be a teacher that students are attracted to. On the other hand, the difficult position a teacher is in is that of conveying to the student that which the student does not know. The student may not know because they simply haven’t heard it yet. They may not know because they are inclined not to know certain things. The teacher must decide what to do when a student appears to be inclined to stay not knowing. One decision may be to confront the student’s inclination, and bring to light the necessity of knowing certain things. Another decision may be to let the student’s inclination take its course, and possibly transform on its own. The decision-making, I reckon, is a reflection on the teacher’s wisdom and character.

From the perspective of the student, they may perceive the teacher’s course of action in any number of ways. A student who is confronted about his/her inclination may become defensive and focus attention on the way the information was given (e.g., “You don’t have to say it so harshly/subtly/directly/now/today/when I’m not ready, etc.”). A student who is subtly feeling that he/she is missing something, but the teacher is not helping them or filling them in, may feel abandonment or bitterness at the teacher’s inaction (“Why doesn’t he/she just come out and tell me?!”). In the end, practically speaking, the teacher is the teacher because he/she has more knowledge/skill/wisdom, etc. The teacher also has more social clout. The teacher may also have multiple students. For these reasons, in the end, the student should come to see things in the teacher’s way, rather than the other way around. In a sense, the student must come to be in the teacher’s shoes, and during the learning process, put him/herself in the teacher’s shoes. In another sense, the student learns to speak more of the teacher’s language. The teacher on the other hand must always be mindful of how he/she is going about his/her own practice and how he/she is putting him/herself out there as part of a relationship with the student, regardless of whether the teacher is trying to related in a certain way or not.

As a student, putting oneself in this inferior position is not something that most people would find immediately palatable. They want to be respected. They want to feel that the teacher understands them. They want the teacher to say things so that they can grasp it. This may work to some extent, and it depends on the subject matter of course, but then again it may not. If they already felt comfortable with it, then they would already know it or have an easy time acquiring it. Although it may sound counterintuitive to some that it might feel uncomfortable to learn something that is easier or healthier, learning something, coming to know oneself, etc. are endeavors that inevitably have to do with discomfort and letting go of attachments. How a teacher fits into such an endeavor is not necessarily to make things easier or more comfortable. In fact it may be just the opposite – what’s necessary to encounter that which one is not likely to if left to one’s pre-existing tendencies.

Tuned out

Our  current historical environment can facilitate or even nurture a sense of safety and sufficiency (“What’s the big deal? It’s enough. I can get by”) while being tuned out or as say, “watching TV.” An excerpt from Anathem by Neal Stephenson:

As we were walking back down to the lake’s edge, Quin – who had been silent for a while – cleared his throat. “You mentioned that there were certain things you have to leave behind when you enter this new Magisterium [a kind of community],” he reminded me. “Does that include religion?”

One measure of how much things had changed was that this didn’t make me in the least bit nervous. “I’m glad you brought that up,” I said. “I noticed that Artisan Flec came with you.” 

[...] “Yeah. Anyway, I just want to say, if his presence here is not appropriate…” 

“The rule of thumb we’ve been using is that Deolaters [believers in gods] are welcome as long as they’re not certain they’re right,” I said. “As soon as you’re sure you’re right, there’s no point in your being here.” 

“Flec’s not sure of anything now,” Quin assured me. Then, after a minute: “Can you even have an Ark [a religious place/org.], if you’re not sure you’re right? Isn’t it just a social club, in that case?” 

[...] “Flec should hike up to Arsibalt’s Dowment,” I suggested. “It is going to be a center for working on that kind of thing.” 

Quin made a wry grin. “I’m not sure if Flec wants to work on it.”

“He just wants to be told?”

“Yes. Or at least, that’s what he’s used to – what he’s comfortable with.”

“I have a few Laterran friends now,” I said, “and one of them, the other say, was telling me about a philosopher named Emerson who had some useful upsights about the difference between poets and mystics. I’m thinking that it’s just as applicable in our cosmos as it is in his.”

“I’ll bite. What’s that difference?”

“The mystic nails a symbol to one meaning that was true for a moment but soon becomes false. The poet, on the other hand, sees that truth while it’s true but understands that symbols are always in flux and that their meanings are fleeting.” [...] “Anyway, my point is that guys like Flec have a weakness, almost a kind of addiction, for the mystical, as opposed to the poetic, way of using their minds. And there’s an optimistic side of me that says such a person could break that addiction, be retrained to think like a poet, and accept the fluxional nature of symbols and meaning.” 

“Okay, but what’s the pessimistic side telling you?”

“That the poet’s way is a feature of the brain, a specific organ or faculty, that you either have or you don’t. And that those who have it are doomed to be at war forever with those who don’t.”  

How much to cater to the mystic who comes into such a place, since they face the transition to becoming a poet regardless, and maybe deserves the benefit of the doubt, that he’s bothering to come in because being a mystic isn’t feeling sufficient? I wonder if most dojos let the mystic continue to be that way and even encourage him so.

Sunao & Gimon

[There was a collection of writings by Kuroiwa sensei for which the link is now dead. Back when I translated a few of them, I must have figured there was a danger of this happening. Recently, on "agasan"'s blog, he/she put up an old interview of Kuroiwa sensei that touches on these writings. There was a section on "sunao" that I will put below:]

- Is there anything you can say for our new students?

As the saying goes, “Three years on a rock”, meaning, no matter how hard it is now, persevering will bring you what you want. What it really means is that it’s no good if you don’t feel “something” within 2 to 3 years.

That “something” is first a feeling of questioning that which you are being taught. That is, do you feel anything unnatural regarding the format in which you are taught. Nothing is perfect or complete, and effort is necessary to resolve such questioning. If you can pass 2, 3 years without feeling any questions, then you aren’t likely to advance much in the future. If it takes more than three years, you get lost in the flow of things. You may have some questions in the first 2, 3 years, but unless you resolve them then – and to resolve them means to feel “something” – then your training from then on is simply imitation and nothing with your individuality will arise.

To be extreme, it becomes a meaningless activity, only done for self-satisfaction. Of course such an activity cannot beget progress. With respect to whatever it is one is learning, there is a true straightforward, honest, open-ness (sunao) to throw out questions such as “Is this really okay?”, “I wonder if this is what that means?” If one simply takes in and is grateful for whatever they’re told, then it is not that true straightforward open-ness.

But when you’re a beginner, you can’t determine such a thing objectively. So no matter how mistaken or nonsensical the thing being taught, the beginner straightforwardly accepts it as is. And thus the tendency to not question develops.

Sunao. Straightforward. Sincere. Honest. Open. Forthright.
Gimon. Question. Doubt. Objection.

It is interesting, the dichotomy of selfishness and selflessness in the “coin” whose two sides this topic is about. In my own experience, I noticed and acknowledged my own ego, ambition, and aggression at some point. I decided against repression, stigmatism, and anything neurotic, and instead chose to make use of what I had.

The core was that I wanted more.

I wanted to be able to throw down the other person harder. I wanted to be more precise. I wanted to almost overwhelm my opponents with my technique. Sublimation, I think it’s called – “a defense mechanism that allows us to act out unacceptable impulses by converting these behaviors into a more acceptable form”. What potentially stood in my way toward “more”? Other people ceasing to want to practice with me. Not taking advantage of the experience and wisdom of my seniors and predecessors. Rigid attachment to a specific sense of what it would feel like “to be better”, “to throw harder”, etc. I suppose I never had any significant attachment in this sense.

So, in pursuing “more” I had to consider how to practice with others, who to refer to and how, continually be vigilant for that which not only stood in my way but was circuitous and a waste of time.

How to doubt, for example, a teacher, and still be open and forward-moving? It is impossible if I don’t have my own desire and hunger. If my teacher presents me with something I come to quickly doubt, what is my response? To wait for him to clarify (i.e., to amend himself) in a way that is satisfactory to me? To dismiss that piece of the art, that part of him, that episode in our relationship? To wait for my own understanding to improve, to have an epiphany someday, to presume that something is not useful to me now other than to remind me how immature I am and humble I should be? It is because I have my own desire and hunger (i.e., my ego) that I don’t wait for the external to satisfy me, that I don’t throw something away easily as it might be useful in another way, that I make use of my current experience of the teaching rather than wait for some future understanding, that I use the opportunity to revisit what it is I desire and hunger for. In this sense, it is both selfless and selfish.

If my teacher presents me with something to which my response is like, “Hm?” or “Huh?! What was that?” If I don’t pursue my own desire selfishly, then I pass by that opportunity that some part of me is indicating to myself by that little “Hm?”. If don’t pursue my interest and passively wait for it to happen or be handed to me, I might be waiting for a long time for the next time something similar to “Huh?!” to occur again. Not only might I be waiting and thereby wasting time by not learning about the external, ephemeral thing that made me go “Huh?!”, but I would be passing up the opportunity to examine what it is in my that has been and maybe continues to be impressed by that thing, as well as the opportunity to think on why that thing happened then but not every time or more frequently or with every person.

I imagine it is not uncommon to feel somewhat disillusioned when something that makes you go, “Huh?!” doesn’t happen every time or more often. There is an opportunity there to question: Am I being taken in, did I “drink the kool-aid”? Did it happen with that one other student because he’s been taken in? It was impressive but is it really valuable? Do I seek it or am I captivated by it because it’s impressive or valuable? Am I here in the long run, the big picture, because I seek that impressive thing? that valuable thing? or just to be around others who can do those impressive things?

Did I experience that impressive thing by chance? or was my teacher showing us intentionally? or showing someone specifically? show me? What were others’ reactions? Was everyone else impressed? Did he show that young aggressive guy, that scared, nervous person, that frenetic woman, etc. to communicate something to him/her? Was he showing us something by using that young aggressive guy, etc.? Do I have to be like that young guy to experience it for myself? Do I want to be like him? Do I want to experience it for myself or just be witness to it? Am I in this practice, am I coming here to be like that young guy? to just be witness to things?

One cannot be honest and straightforward if one is lazy, dull, shy, wary, unwilling to consider and face one’s addiction to security and comfort.

On Teaching and Practicing

jackwada.blogspot.com

One of the major things I look at when evaluating someone’s potential as a teacher is does that person teach or train when he/she is in the class? When Hikitsuchi sensei was leading the class, Anno sensei would train. If Yanase sensei had started the class, Tojima sensei would train. The other thing I look at, is does this person make the other person better? Often times one can dominate the other person either with an innundation of knowledge or in some cases superior physical skill, but do both people grow as a result of the training? Sometimes truly teaching something goes way past the other person having fun or the other person feeling good. Does the potential teacher have the ability to “wake up” the potential in the newer person? That can sometimes mean challenging outmoded patterns of behavior or destructive belief systems. But to challenge someone else, one must in effect constantly be challenging oneself. Hikitsuchi sensei insisted that aikido is “shugyo”, literally a path of constant personal growth.

During a time when due to my surgery I am off the mat for a little while, these are things that have been running through me. I hope they stimulate some important thought.

Piggybacking on the bold above…

There’s a way of practicing in which an uke thinks to make it difficult for the nage to execute the technique in order to make the practice more beneficial to the nage. There are so many different ways to make things difficult for nage that simply making it difficult cannot possibly categorically have an effect of benefit for the person encountering the difficulty. In fact, I think that there are very few and specific, rather than many, ways to challenge the nage intentionally that results in making the nage better. (This somehow relates to the existential dilemma of not being able to know for certain if what happens in an interaction between oneself and another is more due to oneself or the other, and which aspects.)

Nage is also not made better by simply feeling better. That is, by uke intentionally removing (or believing that he/she is anyway) all challenges and obstacles for nage, nage may feel like he/she is experiencing satisfaction (e.g., just the right amount and kind of effort). However, does nage benefit simply from a sense of satisfaction? Does nage benefit if the ease/satisfaction-challenge ratio is x% due to the pretense created or not by uke? Obviously this is an un-answerable question – all people are different, that x% is not really quantifiable, and even if it were, we aren’t machines that can replicate the exact same condition, at least not without mindfulness and adaptability. Conversely, if uke tries to create x amount of ease-challenge for nage, how does he/she determine how much is good? And good for whom? Even if I am practicing with someone with much less experience than myself, am I nothing but a provider of experience to my partner? How do I come up with that ideal I believe my partner should be experiencing? And should my practice be solely or primarily to achieve that ideal? If my partner has difficulty throwing me, do I change because I feel dissatisfied with our interaction or because I want them to feel a certain way? Maybe that certain way I want them to feel is encouraged. Or satisfied. Or maybe that certain way I want them to feel is to feel that I understand how they are. Or that we’re interacting, connecting.

For these latter cases, it’s more apparent that I need to be involved, i.e. that how I feel and what I’m going through are determining factors. How I feel may include a feeling a satisfaction, but in these cases it’s more apparent that that feeling is ephemeral. Furthermore, the experiences explored could include feelings (e.g., satisfaction, frustration, fear) and physical sensations (e.g., resistance, ‘te-gotae’, force, my partner’s balance being broken, my own posture being compromised, my own tension). Like a conversation, it may be satisfying afterward as well as during. However, during, we wouldn’t expect it to work for me to strive to make it satisfying – this kind of conversation would look neurotic or, if centering on the other person’s satisfaction, sycophantic. It’s satisfying because both the other person and I are engaging and participating. If it makes the other person better, smarter, more aware, wiser, etc., it is often not because I try to make them so. And I cannot make someone, say, wiser, by confounding them – at least not in one conversation. If they are left with something from one conversation, mull over it later, then perhaps it can lead to becoming better or wiser. But that thing that I leave them with does not necessarily directly correspond to what I desire them to leave with. Nor does it follow that leaving them with something that confounds them or makes them feel foolish will lead to their becoming wiser. Sometimes – maybe more than not – helping to lead a person experience something wisely enables them to know from hence forth what it is like to be wise. Attaining the experience of seeing something wisely does not necessarily correspond directly with pleasure or discomfort, ease or difficulty. And, unless I can somehow magically read the future thought patterns of my partner, I don’t know for sure if he/she will experience wisdom while I am leading him/her there. If he/she does achieve that experience (assuming that I somehow know what they’re experiencing) then I learn what it’s like, at least on that one occasion, what it’s like to lead that person to a wise experience. I learned something. I grew. Because “that occasion” is in fact every instant, every moment, this uncertainty and engagement can be practiced continuously. Misogi and challenging oneself are endeavors that are available at every moment.

So, while one may not know ahead of time exactly how the partner will get better, if one is interested in it, then that interest will play itself out in the kind of exploration and curiosity that manifest in one’s actions. How one’s interests, or other internal workings, manifest may have some relation to skill and experience. If the interest is pursued, then the partner will be likelier to see what one is pursuing.

Of course the partner is not a uniformly cut blank slate. If the partner is not participating in a conversation, then regardless of the curiosity and interest of the other person, then the partner will not truly experience the give and take, moment to moment dance, and convergence of a conversation.

Tangent: In fact, if I am not engaging and have a curious, interested person asking me questions or telling me about themselves, then I might feel intruded upon or even violated. “Why are they telling me all this? Do they want something from me? Why are they asking me all that? Are they questioning or mocking me?” Certainly it is not necessary to have a deep conversation, or have a conversation at all. And certainly if both parties in a conversation are interested and engaging, then a deeper conversation will be likelier. A deeper conversation doesn’t necessarily have to be severe or complex, yet there is an exchange, a give and take, rather than parrying, maneuvering, and stepping further away. And so, if I am interested in learning more, then it follows that I seek to experience that which I don’t necessarily expect or predict. That something is not strictly within the parameters, or “form”, I might initially see us in. This way correspond with experiencing and awareness. On the other hand, if I am positive that the exploration happen between certain parameters, then what am I exploring? If I am positive my partner should only talk between this topic area and that, and not stray outside, then am I conversing? Does that conversation have any possibility of going where I didn’t know of initially? Would I experience anything like, “Huh? Ahhh. I see”? Am I simply wanting someone to fill in a blank I am providing. “Please tell me the address of your home.” “Please show me how to make this thing on the computer.” “No, no. I’m not interested in the color of your home or what plants you have in your yard.” “I don’t care how the code is written for the program or who wrote it.” These “fill in the blanks” are not the same exploration and learning as having a conversation.

Spirituality

Recently I’ve had two people interested in aikido ask me about aikido and its “spiritual” and “internal” aspects, and overheard one interesting aikido class which included some talk of similar matters. By yet another coincidence, there was this blog entry on the very same subject, which I immediately translated with gratitude (and relief) that someone else made the effort to verbalize about a subject, that likely after some years becomes internalized and hard to talk about.

Inspiration vs Mystification

In the end it is as simple as one moving you toward, and the other keeping you away from your goal. Both are experiences that make you think/feel, “Wow,” but the motivation that you are left with is different.

Common sense and reactivity

We seem to experience greater discomfort and agitation, or we are likelier to hit a “nerve” of our own, when facing the need to explain what we think is common sense. This thought/observation in itself is nothing new to me, but I’ve recently encountered several unrelated opportunities related to this phenomenon which I take to mean potential opportunities to challenge myself and my current state, which is to avoid such explanations and to view the other person as unable to get it or be otherwise lacking in some way.