Know Yourself

One of the challenges in training in aikido is learning how to avoid injury.

Now, since aikido occasionally has a reputation as being too “soft” to be a “realistic” martial arts (I’d be interested in how some of these people acquired these opinions), I feel I should take a moment to first discuss what it means to avoid injury. First, what it isn’t: avoiding injury does not mean going easy on yourself to the point that you never push yourself to grow stronger. It does not mean training with weak attacks that have little to no intention behind them. And it certainly doesn’t entail warping correct technique in fear of injuring someone else. What avoiding injury does mean is that you do not push yourself past the point that your body and mind can handle, nor do you push your opponent to the same extent. Avoiding injury means taking the time to understand what your body is capable of, and it means studying correct principles and correct technique so that you grow stronger both mentally and physically–which thereby further reduces your risk of getting hurt.

But many people step onto the mat without even a basic understand of what their bodies are capable of. As a result, avoiding injury relies too much on luck and not enough on awareness. It would be unfair, too, for an instructor to try to predict when a person has had enough and when they’re okay. The variations in personal comfort and pain tolerances is simply too overwhelming. So, for those who are stepping onto the mat for the first time, or considering doing so, I offer a few thoughts to help ensure you train effective and safely:

1. Listen to your instructor. This is paramont. Many times, students aren’t fully listening to their instructor when they’re on the mat. And by instructor, I don’t just mean the guy in the hakama standing at the front of the class. Your instructor could be the student with whom you are training.
2. Ask questions. You are studying a martial art; it is more than likely very foreign to your mental and physical systems. So ask questions when you do not understand something, or your body is sending signals you can’t interpret. Although my dojo has a very low instance of injuries, I would say that 90% of those injuries occur because a student felt something that wasn’t quite right, yet opted to say nothing about it.
3. Use the warm-ups. I often say in class that warm-ups are more than just an opportunity to prepare for training; they are also an opportunity for you to check your current level of flexibility and health. Some days you may find you are more flexible than others. Some days you may find that you are stronger. By paying attention during warm-ups, you can get a very clear sense of what you might (or might not) be capable of during the rest of class.
4. Stretch. There are a great many opportunities to stretch–during class is not one of them. As I am found of saying: “Stretching doesn’t require mats.” Stretch before class starts or after it ends. Stretch in front of the TV (my personal favorite) or get a video on basic yoga. The more limber your body is, the less likely it is to seize up in anticipation of an injury.
5. Relax. When you are training, you are not racing against the clock. You are not competing with another student. Your one and only goal is to improve your understanding of aikido. Since there is no hurry, enjoy the journey and relax while you train. I’ve no statistics to prove this, but I think most injuries on the at occur because a student held too much tension in the affected area.
6. Inform your instructor. Do you have a health issue? Perhaps a previous injury or recurring physical condition? Did you just get thrown and now your shoulder doesn’t feel right? Tell your partner and tell your instructor. It is better to talk to the instructor to see if you need to sit for a few minutes than it is to “tough it out” and risk creating a serious injury.
7. Follow these ideas off the mat. Lots of people have gotten hurt who study aikido–but guess what? Many of them got hurt off the mat, doing things like falling off ladders or (and I’m not kidding here) being attacked by their pet bird. Take care of yourself off the mat so that your risk of injury is kept to a minimum.

These are just a few thoughts that I think everyone should keep in mind while they train. None of them, of course, will ensure that your training in aikido will be  without injury; however, the less injuries we incur, the more progress we can make in our understanding of aikido.

Fall Camp, 2007!

Wait a minute.

Wasn’t the last post or two about Winter Camp 2007? How did we get to Fall so quickly?

Fear not; there is an explanation.

One of the open-ended questions that’s come up in the Seattle area is where Fall Camp with Sensei Shuji Maruyama will occur. Unlike Winter and Summer Camps, which typically reside in New Jersey and Philadelphia (or, as many of us in Seattle would say: “Somewhere over on the East Coast”), Fall Camp rotates between three locations: Seattle, Phoenix, and San Francisco. While it was “technically” Seattle’s turn to host this year, it was by no means set in stone.

At Winter Camp, however, Sensei made it very clear: Seattle is hosting Fall Camp 2007.

I wish that many of the people who train and teach Kokikai Aikido on the East Coast could have seen the reaction to this news when I returned to Seattle. It was, quite simply, electric. Everyone was and is tremendously excited and honored to host such an event. More importantly, everyone realized that we have such tremendous support from the Kokikai as an organization and community.

Planning for Fall Camp is by no means a small task, however. I’m very grateful that there are many people who have offered to help. In fact, I would say that, the real value of this news is how it illustrates the support we have from other Kokikai teachers and practitioners for those of us training in the Northwest. Knowing that we have the privilege of hosting Fall Camp has certainly helped many of us on the path to finding our own “best feeling!”

Winter Camp, 2007, Part Two

At this past Winter Camp, I had the opportunity to stay with my good friend, Abhijit Dasgupta. Abhijit is one of those rare people you meet while training who started alongside you, progressed through the ranks with you, and continue to push and inspire you. Abhijit has now plunged into the blogosphere with AikiMusings, which I highly recommend you check out. He’s extremely articulate and frequently* knows what he’s talking about.

In his first post, Abhijit discusses the main concept that Sensei Maruyama expressed during Camp. It is a relatively simple notion conceptually, but can be expressed in many ways. During Camp, some of the phrases he used were:

• “Throw away impurities”
• “Have a good feeling”
• “Be comfortable”

These phrases all point to a single idea: effective technique comes from within. Conceptually, this is an easy notion to understand; certainly, we have all felt a calm sense of power when we are relaxed in body and (for want of a better word) spirit. To put this idea into practice, however, to harmonize the idea in the mind with the actions in the body–that is not an easy task. Sensei more than once pointed out that it is a very difficult idea to teach. At least, in the conventional step-by-step instructions we usually want to receive.

As we trained over the weekend, I realized that capturing these more abstract concepts are what camps are all about. The enthusiasm and focus at camps are intense and immediate. Similar to what you experience at a concert, the energy at Camp is infectious. It’s circular, as well: the energy of the room raises my game, which in turn gets me to be even more energetic myself, which is then picked up on by the people around me. Camps, in my mind, become an excellent example of how to capture Sensei’s concept of one’s “best feeling.”

Now that I am back in my home dojo, I have been thinking a great deal about how to capture that feeling more often. After all, it is not the number of people that really matter, but this level of infectious enthusiasm that makes the difference. I re-remembered a passage in Sensei Rick Berry’s book, Stepping Off the Mat, in which he describes a man he met. This man, when asked how he was doing, replied: “I’m doing GREAT!” The enthusiasm from this man, answering what is typically a mere polite question, made those around him feel better and more energized. One can only imagine what life would be like if that outpouring of energy from people was the norm.

However, as I wrote before, Sensei was very clear that, while good technique depended on a good feeling, saying that you “felt good” is not enough. One must then prove it through the application of technique. This is, to me, so important. It would be so easy to say “I feel GREAT!” but only show it on the outside; inside, you know you’re putting on a front. Were you on the mat and attempting this charade, you immediately know it because your technique simply becomes unreliable at best, and ineffective at worst. To be blunt: effective Kokikai technique becomes not only a means of self-defense, but also a means of proving to yourself that your internal energy is legitimate, and not some la-la land nonsense. I wonder if some of the criticisms of Aikido stem from instructors who focus on this internal feeling, but not the external proof…

*Actually, he knows what he’s talking about almost all of the time. But I have to tease him.

Winter Camp, 2007, Part One

When I drove into Lawrenceville, MJ, I understood for the first time what the term, “idyllic,” meant. The entire town has a quiet, relaxed feeling to it, with old houses resting comfortably amidst the trees and fields. Even the local deli, which was gracious enough to help me shrug off the effects of my flight with an excellent roast beef bagel sandwich, had an easy feeling to it, with its patrons casually chatting over cups of coffee. It struck me as a town in which it is hard to be in a hurry, a town in which it is hard to remain tense.

In other words, a perfect place to study Kokikai aikido.

I arrived at the location for camp, the field house at the Lawrenceville School, quite a bit early. It wasn’t long before I saw the tell-tale signs of a camp setup in progress: a large truck pulled up, and two people quickly began unloading rolls and rolls of foam mats. Eager to shake off jet-lag, I introduced myself and started to help. As I rolled the mats into the field house, I was struck at how great the space was. Two-thirds of the entire roof consists of opaque skylights, which allows the entire facility to be bathed in a diffuse light. The field house is essentially an indoor track and field, so the mats were setup inside the oval track. It was during this time that I met Jorge, a young fifteen-year-old who was (I believe) about to be one of the youngest students ever to test for shodan. I also met Ron, one of Jorge’s teachers, an older gentleman who was quick to smile and even quicker to hand me more mats to unload from the truck. More and more people began to trickle in and, even though I had never met these people before, there was no doubt that we were all part of an extended Kokikai community.

After the mats were set up, I got changed and started meeting and re-meeting people. There are so many Kokikai aikidoka! And yet it is not hard to start remembering their names. One of the more amusing aspects of Camp for me was stating were I was from. At first, I simply said: “Everett, Washington.” That got me puzzled looks, which I didn’t understand until I realized that were trying to figure out where Everett was in the DC area! I quickly amended my statements to “Everett, in Washington State.” That stopped the confusion! There were a number of folks I haven’t seen in several years, and I was glad to see them.

It wasn’t long before it was time for the first class. By this point, the mat was filled with at least 200 people. As we started our warm-ups, I was reminded of something a friend of mine told me at a camp long ago. “The whole place sounds like soft thunder.” It’s the best description of the sound of several hundred people practicing large ukemi or tenkan that I’ve come across.

When Sensei Maruyama stepped onto the mat, the focus of the camp intensified. One of the things that I appreciate most about camps is that Sensei does not waste time on the more technical aspects of technique. To be sure, if he has a new idea or concept he is quick to teach it, but really camps are more about “the big ideas.” Perhaps the most important of these is, as Sensei says, to “discover one’s best feeling.” In fact, this camp I noticed a focus on being present, being aware, long before your opponent attacks. But, as Sensei pointed out, capturing your best feeling is not sufficient; it is only a start. One must find one’s best feeling, and then prove it through the application of technique. This was the first time I really considered this idea, which, upon further reflection, is really what the idea of a “Do” art is all about.

One of the things that really appeals to me in Kokikai aikido is that defeating your opponent is not enough. In fact, I think it’s likely that, by the time you reach shodan in Kokikai aikido, you have already learned and practiced enough of the physical techniques that you should have little doubt that you could defend yourself should the need arise. Were that the only goal, many of us would get our blackbelts and walk away. Instead, in Kokikai aikido technique becomes a reflection of who you are as individual. Do you think you are at peace with yourself? That you are calm, stable? Then step onto the mat and prove it through self-defense technique. I do not mean prove it to your teachers, peers, or students, although they are perhaps the most powerful aides in testing yourself. Instead, I am starting to realize that you are proving it to yourself, or to the universe at large–however you want to phrase it. If there was one idea I got from Winter Camp, it was that this “process of proof” is never-ending. Even Sensei Maruyama tests himself to ensure that he continues to grow.

More on winter camp soon.