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go into new territory, although it may not account for everything you encounter and it may even be inaccurate (e.g., outdated) in some ways.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.

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.

Teaching

Some very similar points from very different sources.

Link to jackwada.blogspot.com

One of the most important things about teaching is to have a background in training. Teaching is a form of training, but there are things one must be very clear about. One thing you always watch is whether someone in the class teaches or trains. If you are working with someone newer, do you teach or train? One thing one can do is to summon the instructor over, and let the instructor convey the information. Training is not just working up a sweat and getting a workout. It is a process of relating to the person and yourself, ie connecting, through the art. It is a real art to be able to teach someone new through movement and the body. A lot of instruction can be way too verbal. This is especially difficult when the person you are working with is new and feels that he/she must understand something in order to move. Movement, feeling, awareness are parts of learning that must be introduced from the very onset of your working with someone new(er). If you stop and over verbalize, you may create a pattern in them that they will always stop and analyze and never move or feel. Tojima sensei was probably the most verbal of the teachers in Shingu, but he always related what he said to a process of feeling. The other teachers tended to move so fast that you couldn’t think, which is good, but maybe the concept being practiced might not be clear. The challenge is to get the concept, which maybe a form as well as possibly flow, center, or energy, through the body.The sad fact is that most people would rather do a form, whether that form is rigid, seemingly flowing, or moving, or static, than to feel and be aware. Real training is to feel what is going on, not to cover it up with flash or knowledge or glitz. And real training has nothing to do with something that is dangerous or effective. Real training is to touch the core of your own being and through that make a real connection to your partner. Training that is too extreme, and that can mean anything from being too mental, verbal, locked into a particular approach or style, too rigid, too soft and flowing, tends to be shallow. A purely mental approach will fail. But so will a purely physical approach. If someone has it, and I mean a level of the balance between mind/body, you can feel it. I remember my early days in Shingu it was obvious to me that Anno, Tojima, and Yanase senseis had something the rest of the people training didn’t. And it was more than technique. In fact Anno sensei’s shihonage was very different from Tojima sensei’s, with Yanase sensei’s being even different from the other two. It was something you could feel on the mat, but also something you could feel outside the dojo. These were people you trusted and respected, not just because they had a high number after their name or were addressed as sensei.So training has a lot to do with forging and actualizing a deeper sense of who we are. We cannot teach that which we are separate from at the level of being. Constantly reflecting, absorbing, transforming are what aikido is about. We constantly run into the ego(the shallow mind-based “I”)and must constantly re-direct it into the larger design of things. It is a process instead of a destination.

Link to Yamada sensei interview

Are there things you see in daily practice that prevent students from progressing?
There are people who practice in a way that prevents them from making progress, no matter how many years they practice. They do not care that they are making such basic mistakes as not standing in hanmi or making movements slovenly and negligently, even after becoming black belts. It is acceptable that beginners make mistakes or cannot move properly. However, progress can not be expected if one is doing techniques negligently while thinking one is actually doing them properly. There is the proper stance for each technique. It is essential to get it right. However, many people, for some reason, focus too much on the upper body and then the footwork becomes negligent. Because the partner still falls in aikido, they tend to think they are doing the technique correctly. I detest it when I watch such a performance at examinations.
The techniques should be performed clearly and convincingly so that they work on the person’s partner. Otherwise, practice becomes meaningless. Position and balance should be kept properly. In order to do that, the footwork must be firm. Only then will the technique work within the flow and the balance kept after the
throw, making the overall movement beautiful.

What can teachers do to help the student avoid these mistakes?
Sometimes there also is a problem on the teaching side. There are some teachers who stop the movement of their students and try to teach them small details. The students do not progress if taught this way. It is just fine to leave the discovery process up to the students. So long as the key points are clearly taught, it is not necessary to tell them small details. For example, in case of teaching a blind person how to get from point A to point B, the blind person first needs to be guided to be able to go to point B on their own. On the way, the person may bump into something or may fall down. Moreover, the person also may not be able to walk at the desired pace. In this way, the person gets to be able to follow the passage to the final destination in their own time. The small details can be learned later. If stopped frequently and told, “It is dangerous here, so be careful,” each and every time, the person won’t be able to learn the way to the
destination. Similarly, if stopped and taught small details from the beginning, the practice cannot be fun.

Is there anything else you would like to say about a student’s practice attitude?
One more thing I would like to emphasize is to have a positive attitude toward practice. One does not advance having a doubt about aikido. Progressing by solving questions is one method for sure; however that approach is for people who have already learned a considerable amount of aikido. It is a waste of time if one is thinking, “Will this ikkyo work for real?” while practicing. I believe aikido practice should be done positively and seriously. I do not mean austerely because it is important to enjoy practice. I hope people will practice aikido passionately with joy. Aikido is very profound. I wish people would not be satisfied with their present levels or state – even if they are advanced to some extent – but that they aim for an even higher and happier practice.

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.

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.

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.

Language/Communication

I find myself often return to the analogy of language (or conversation, communication, etc.) when thinking about aikido and people in general. I realized recently that the first time I wrote anything for others to read – it was for the Saku dojo newsletter – it was about the same thing. (I can’t remember specifically what I wrote but I’m sure it was a crude, beta version thing that covered way more topics than it should have in a page.)

Recently I’ve been thinking about style/method/school differences, such as at seminars, and about the teacher/student relationship. I think that both of these situations entail unique factors not likely found in “usual” relationships and communication.

Choice

Is choice something that a person gains very simply and suddenly? When a person is told, “You know, you can do that this other way instead – it works better, is more comfortable, healthier, etc.”, does the person automatically have a choice? That choice may be to do the new way. The choice could also be to further learn about the new way in order to do it. And conversely the choice could be to continue doing the old way, with various levels of “traces” of the new information staying in the mind.

How to teach

From agasan’s blog | and gnarly Google translated page here: (my highlights in bold)

When my teacher, Kuroiwa Yoshio sensei, was teaching at Hombu, he was once dispatched to teach at a certain dojo in the Tokyo area. The head of the dojo was also a kenjutsu practitioner, and was better known in that field. At one time Kisshomaru sensei was also going there, but overall it seems that that dojo head was a difficult person and all of the instructors who had been dispatched from Hombu to go there did not do so for long.

Perfection – When the middle way can’t be

I’ve been playing with a question that started forming when I left Seattle a few days ago. It originally felt like the problem of integrating, or deciding on some balance between, two mutually exclusive elements. This led to the heart of the matter: what I want for myself and what I’d like to impart to others ultimately (which are basically the same, as I am one person).

advanced theory/practical vs basics theory

I had a conversation recently with sensei in which he said clearly that what he did normally in his classes was theory, and that people need to take it upon themselves to get the basics. Furthermore, it is basics that enable a person to understand more advanced, as well as diverse (e.g. material from a different school), material, and provide the starting point from which a person departs and finds their own style. (For context simplicity’s sake: what sensei does in his classes could also be called “advanced practical” is putting basics into practice, and that might make more sense if we considered, here, basics classes as “theory”.)

I feel that I neglected to touch upon an important point from my conversation above:
Basics are the “starting point” from which we depart, deviate, adapt to fit reality, etc. What sensei is teaching, he said, and what everyone should do as far as creating/finding their own aikido, is depart from the starting point in a way that has validity and meaning for them.

Know Thyself

I read in an interview one shihan’s statement that kata (forms) were a way for a person to be able to have a conversation with his own body/own self. While part of my brain registered that this could sound like a silly idea, it also made perfect sense. It has also occurred to me that, during my thoughts about inspiration and faith, and learning and development, that imagination is something that you use “on” yourself (and it’s also registered to me that this idea also might sound silly, like “I know who I am already. Should I act like a crazy person and imagine I’m superman?”) Even the use of imagery, at least in the way we usually conceive it, does not amount to what I’m thinking of as “imagination” here.

Oppression – a reframe (2)

As I was reading my first “fly-by” of this topic I saw that what I wrote would give the impression that I misunderstood some points entirely and not address the original topic very much. I thought I’d like to make another pass though I won’t claim to even try to hit the nail on the head precisely. This is in the context of the student-teacher relationship and faith.

Rules

Mostly I’m not into rules, although O Sensei’s “Practice joyfully” comes to mind once in a while. I had some thoughts on these that I came across [1] [2] :

1. Find a place you trust and then try trusting it for a while.
2. General duties of a student: pull everything out of your teacher, pull everything out of your fellow students.
3. General duties of a teacher: pull everything out of your students.
4. Consider everything an experiment.
5. Be self-disciplined. This means finding someone wise or smart and choosing to follow them. To be disciplined is to follow in a good way. To be self-disciplined is to follow in a better way.
   This relates to my thinking regarding faith and relationships within a learning context, and “sunao”.
6. Nothing is a mistake. There is no win and no fail. There is only make.
   Kind of hippie-sounding, but wherever you end up, that’s where you are so accept it and deal. Whether it is “good” or “bad” is significantly up to you. Also, it’s surprising how many aikido people fight it – doesn’t it go against being peaceful and working for one’s own safety?
7. The only rule is work. If you work it will lead to something. It’s the people who do all of the work all the time who eventually catch on to things.
8. Don’t try to create and analyse at the same time. They’re different processes.
   Every aikido person to whom the idea occurs to feel or be more sensitive seems to come up against this one. It’s really apparent how you can’t be an observer without participating at the same time – especially when you’re one party in a two person conversation. It’s a skill – it’s possible to do it well or poorly.
9. Be happy whenever you can manage it. Enjoy yourself. It’s lighter than you think.
   Practice joyfully. As with everything, expand your definition.
   
10. “We’re breaking all of the rules. Even our own rules. And how do we do that? By leaving plenty of room for X quantities.” – John Cage.

Learning to be a student, 素直(Sunao) & Faith. And curiosity (cont.)

Enough of the black and white. Now what if you are tentatively believing but have walked in through the door and likely to remain inside? The thing is you may stay tentative and spend the rest of your days with aikido being a light weight on your scale of priorities and things that bring meaning to you. You’ve been handed the memo that says, your being here requires this, entails that, etc. to which you say, okay, I accept.