Sparring, Sparingly

Last night, the dojo was relatively quiet. It was 8:00, midway through the last class of the evening. Up until that point, we had been working on several different kokyunages (timing throws). Eventually we began work on an iremi-based tsuki-kokyunage. This is a technique that I’ve seen works very well off of someone trying to hit you with a punch. Essentially, you step off the line, brushing the punch just past your body, while your other arm moves up your opponent’s center, taking him/her off balance. I find the technique an excellent exercise in timing, because the physical movements are relatievely simple to master.

After a short while, I decided that we could experiment for a bit. The class that evening consisted of myself, a shodan, and two ikkyu students. We could handle a little “out of the ordinairy training,” I thought. So I began discussing how techniques such as this one might work in an actual sparring match–a la what you might find in a Karate or Tae Kwon Do school. The results were very interesting.

First, I was reminded very quickly that in Kokikai Aikido, relaxation is crucial to success. When I was calm, relaxed, and focused, I found that I could handle my opponent quite well, and quite quickly. The minute I allowed myself to get tense, the conflict degenerated into a grappling match.

Second, it quickly became apparent that, with fewer “rules” guiding what techniques we could and could not do, the playing field leveled considerably. One student on the mat has enormous physical presence. During regular practice, that presence seems reduced because we are studying a specific principle or idea. Another student has years of training in Tae Kwon Do, in which he spent a lot of time sparring. In both cases, their ability to hold their own was increased because they were able to apply themselves in ways that do not often fit with “regular” practice.

Third, I quickly realized that we have spent much of our time with tsuki, which typically targets the stomach, but not men-tsuki, which targets the face. Yet, when we squared off, the face was the first target.  On a similar note, we often consider the correct response when your opponent offers bait (such as an arm or a wrist) is to try to grab the bait. This is not the only option, however: in several instances, we did not grab, but instead tried to bat away the arm as we moved in for a strike.

What was wonderful to experience was that, when Kokikai principles were correctly applied, the conflict ended quickly, simply, and without injury. While I was disappointed that I was not as successful as often as I wanted, I am glad that we participated in the exercise, because it illuminated aspects of our daily practice on which we need to focus.

The last time I did any real sparring was early in my martial arts training, when I studied Kung Fu. There, sparring was a brutal affair, in which no punches were ever pulled for any reason. I quickly realized that just because I could throw a block during forms practice did not necessarily mean I could block when someone was really trying to hit me.  Learning how to deal with the increased level of intention takes practice and experience. I wonder if it is the same with other arts?

Overall, I have found this experience to be a wonderful reminder both of how effective Kokikai Aikido is and how important it is to continually raise the bar when it comes to your own practice. And, above all, it was an excellent illustration on how one can be humble enough to realize you have not mastered an idea, while simultaneously be confident enough to stand your ground.

Energy

I am having issues with the word “energy.”

My first issue is in its overuse. Growing up in Eugene, Oregon, semi-permanent home of the Grateful Dead, words like “energy” and “lifeforce” were more than New Age terms to describe the world; they frequently ended up as the names of some of my classmates*. Hearing someone talk about “energy” has often given me the image of an aging hippie staring off into space, mumbling about how we’re all connected in this vast cosmos…

I know I’m not the only one who feels this way because as soon as I myself use the term during aikido class my own students start to roll their eyes a bit at me. I’ve just about decided to drop the word from my vocabulary altogether; I can’t afford to use terminology that causes my students’ brains to switch off.

My second issue with the word “energy” is its common-use definition. Specifically, the fact that it is quantifiable. People often talk about how they need “more” energy, or that they’re “out” of energy. Even the notion that you feel “energized” implies that there are times when you don’t feel energized at all.

To address the first issue, I’m going to try and drop the word energy from my teaching vocabulary. I haven’t set upon a new term to use in its place yet; currently, I have words like “zanshin,” “power,” and “presence,” but nothing has become a permanent replacement. I want to find something, however, because the notion that we can move with a noticeable implementation of hidden strength is very important to aikido practice. We need to be able to describe not just the physical movements or the mental thought processes, but the net result that occurs as these two worlds combine. One could, of course, use the word “ki,” which is highly appropriate. However, I fear that in an English-speaking class this word has even more of a “New Age” tinge to it than the “energy.”

To address the second issue, I want to try to explain to my students that this feeling, whatever we call it, is not something that we turn on or off. It is already on, and it remains on throughout our lives. If we don’t feel it or perceive it, it is because we are moving or thinking in ways that inhibits its impact. Moving stiffly, for example, clouds our perception to its impact. Thinking negatively does the same thing. By studying correct movement and by employing a positive mindset, we don’t “turn on” this feeling; we simply become more aware of its existence. Just like the sun rises and sets, but if we don’t bother to look up from the ground we likely will never notice it.

My open question: what word or words best describes this feeling of mind-body coordination to students? Is it ki power, with its unusualness to English speakers? Is it power? Is it simply energy, and my own experience with the word has clouded my judgment?

*No, not really. But some of my classmates had names that came pretty close.

Taking care of business

Now that the new dojo is up and running, I’ve been trying to do a lot of research regarding how to take care of it from a business perspective. There’s actually quite a lot of opinions and thought behind running a dojo; some of the articles and essays I’ve come across have been very interesting to read.

One of the most thought-provoking essays that I’ve come across so far is this one from 24 Fighting Chickens. In this essay, the author discusses many of the assumptions martial artists make when they start running their club as a business.

It seems that most instructors assume that you are either remain true to your art, in which case your club often remains small, or you become what is less-than-politely referred to as a “McKarate” dojo–a place in which the sole point of the school is to make money, as opposed to teach a specific art. The author then proceeds to reject that these are the only two options available to you; that is certainly possible to build a club that provides quality instruction without constantly teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.

The link I’ve provided is part one of two. It provides a very interesting perspective on what actions an instructor takes that can actually drive away students. I looked through the list, and was pleased to find that I did not have some of these habits, but surprised that I did have some of them.

Even if you are not an instructor or responsible for running a dojo, check out this essay. You never know when you’ll be in the driver’s seat.

Thanks, Jen

The year 2007 is upon us and with it we start our training in our new dojo. Initially, I was going to write an entry that describes the new dojo: how great it is, how much work has gone into it, and so on. As I thought about how much has gone on (and continues to go on) to make the new dojo a success, I realized how many people there are to thank for their hard work and support. But there is one person, out of everyone who has helped with the dojo, that deserves special thanks: my wife, Jen.

My wife does not train in aikido. Her interest in the art stems primarily from the fact that she knows how important aikido is to me. She’s known this since the first day we met–in fact, she is probably the first woman I dated who truly respected the amount of time I spent at the dojo. I think part of her understanding is derived from her own background as a professional ballet dancer; she knows too well the importance of training. So she has always supported my efforts to understand this martial art.

But, as we all know, there are many different levels of support. It would be very easy for Jen to simply say “I support your training by not giving you a hard time about doing it.” That certainly would be reasonable. After all, we have our daughter to love and care for, our house, our dogs. Life is busy enough that any hour of the day is a precious commodity–the fact that I can spend any of those hours at the dojo is a blessing.

Jen does so much more than just “let” me train, however. She has spent countless hours, both at the new dojo and at home, working on making it a success. Jen’s skills and business management are amazing; she has an eye for catching the smallest detail, the most unlikely corner case and ensuring that we have it covered. While I am reasonably good at the big picture, she is the one who fills in the details. Over the past couple of weeks she has painted, copied fliers, cleaned, labeled, organized, decorated, and cleaned some more. She has done this knowing, as the dojo commences classes this week, that it will result (for the short term) in me spending more time away from home, not less. Whereas I would have wanted the dojo beautiful but would have likely ended up with it as decently functional, she started wanting it beatiful and ended up making it amazing.

There are simply not enough words to express the love and gratitude I feel for Jen. I feel truly blessed to have a partner who understands and appreciates what aikido is to me to the level that Jen does. So, while I cannot thank her enough, I can at least thank her as much as I can. That includes this post (though she hardly checks this blog).

Perhaps we can all take a moment to thank our families and friends, without whom, our path through the martial arts would be lonely indeed.