Aikido and Job Interviews

I recognize that I’ve been a little quiet as of late. I could blame the holiday season, which is partially true, but there have been a number of new changes to my daily routine, and it has taken me a few
weeks to adjust.

Perhaps the most significant change is in regards to my occupation.
You see, last week I had the opportunity to start a new job at Microsoft. Now, under normal circumstances this wouldn’t have anything to do with aikido. But take a moment and do a few searches on the Microsoft interview experience, and you’ll find many blogs, articles, and so on about how grueling “the loop” can be. And indeed, the experience was one of the more intense ones I’ve encountered.

Like any company that finds itself in the enviable position of being successful and on the cutting edge (and whatever your opinion may be of the company, it is hard to deny that it does hold this position), Microsoft has been forced to really analyze potential employees. The result is a long, challenging interview process. At each step of the way, a candidate can expect to have his or her positions and opinions challenged. They do this on purpose–they want to see how you
react under pressure. In addition, they keep you guessing as to how many people you will interview with that day–so you never know if you are going to meet with four people, five people, or ten people. The result is a day where it is very easy to second-guess what your interviewers are thinking.

And it is here that we finally return to Aikido. Throughout my own interview experience, I found that the skills I have honed on the mat proved invaluable. Rather than respond to each challenge from a position of fear or aggression–which apparently are typical–I did my best to respond from a position of calmness. This proved extremely valuable when I was asked questions to whch I didn’t know the answer, in part because I was unafraid to tell them so, but also in part
because I was unafraid to try and find the answer–even if it meant I would find the wrong answer (which, in at least one case, I did). I found that I also was unconcerned about how long the interview process went, or what was going to happen next. My training, in this case, really allowed me to relax and take each moment as it came. The result was apparently very positive–I heard back within a week that they wanted to extend me an offer.

We talk so often about taking our skills off the mat. And, in the case of those of us who study aikido, we are often challenged regarding how our strategies apply in non-physical confrontations. This experience I’ve shared is just one example of how calmness and focus on the mat can lead to success off the mat. If you have a similar experience of
your own, I hope you’ll share it.

Jury Duty and Ki Tests

I arrived home one afternoon, a few weeks ago. My wife was standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner. As I walked through the door, she looked at me with a mischievous grin:

“Guess what?” she asked, gesturing to the counter where we sort our mail. “You got summoned for jury duty.”

I looked down at the counter and, sure enough, there was a jury summons with my name on it. Initially, my first thoughts were  of all the stories people have told me about jury duty–that it’s boring, that it’s a waste of time, that it makes life at work difficult, that I should do everything I can to get out of it. I thought about how I’m starting a new job shortly, and how this really wasn’t the best time for this type of civic duty. As I thought it through, however, I quickly realized that this line of thinking was incorrect.

When we talk about studying a martial art–especially an art like Aikido, which has its roots in samurai traditions–we often talk about moving beyond simply defending yourself physically from attack, to taking responsibility for one’s family and one’s community. A true martial artist does more than simply step on the mat and train; he or she endeavors to look at the world and asks the question: “Who needs my help?” and then, after finding the answer, does what is needed to help. While serving on a jury is often joked about as a boring and inconvenient endeavor, it still is nonetheless an important responsibility, and I realized that I would be hypocritical if I attempted to duck this task in any way. So, I filled out the questionnaire, put it in the mail, and marked my calendar. I admit that I figured that the odds of me actually being needed for a jury were relatively small.

It turns out I was incorrect: a scant hour after I arrived at the courthouse, I was immediately placed in a jury pool for a domestic violence case.  I sat in the jury box, across from a young man who, if the prosecutor was to be believed, attacked his girlfriend after an afternoon of drinking when she started yelling at him in public. Immediately, the seriousness of what my responsibilities were became abundantly clear. Sure, initially, many of us on the jury thought this process was essentially an inconvenience; but as soon as the trial began, we realized the full weight of this, our civic duty. This wasn’t a joke to the defendant, or his lawyer. This wasn’t a trivial matter to the prosecutor, or the judge. This was something that required our absolute and total attention.

In aikido, we talk a lot about ki tests. For those unfamiliar with the concept, it’s enough, for now, to describe these tests as posture tests. There are a series of martial arts movements that we study separately from the techniques in which they are found in order to test our posture and see if we are correct in our movements. Essentially, ki tests are ways in which we can test to ensure that our movements are correct without simultaneously worrying about whether someone is going to hit us or not. I bring this up because, to me, the entire trial was one long ki test. I found myself going through a variety of emotional and mental states; from an emotional response to the notion that this was a domestic violence dispute, and thus the man accused must be guilty, to scrutinizing heavily the evidence and witness testimonies presented. At each point, finding my own center became critically important, because I knew I had to make the most correct decision possible.

Perhaps, however, the two biggest ki tests came during deliberations. At first, the jury was divided into two camps: a majority that felt the accused was guilty of the crime, and a minority that was not yet convinced. I was in this second category but, more than that, I found that I was the only one of that group that had the ability to articulate why I was not yet ready to convict. To sit among my peers and disagree, and have nearly all of them stare at me in disbelief, was extremely difficult. Yet I knew I had to at least discuss the matter thoroughly, or else I would never be at ease with the matter.

The second ki test that came about during deliberations occurred when we realized that, based on the information we had, the accused was not a bad person. He was young, he was drunk, and he made a terrible mistake. Does this justify his actions? No, absolutely not. But I think we all felt, going into the trial, that we were going to either set an innocent person free or a guilty person to prison. I don’t think anyone anticipated that we would have a defendant that was at a turning point in his life. The entire jury wanted to give this man an opportunity to redeem himself. But it is not the job of the jury to make that decision, and nor should it be. It is the job of the jury to determine, to the best of its ability, what the facts are. This was a real ki test: realizing that the scope of our responsibility was limited, and fully understanding that, sometimes, one’s sense of justice does not mesh with one’s sense of compassion.

In the end, we found the defendant guilty. Drunk or not, he reacted violently to a situation where no violence was called for. And again, I could not help but think about my aikido training. In a brief moment, the accused made a choice that will now haunt him forever. He lost control; he lost his center. Perhaps the loss was momentary; perhaps this trial was the culmination of many different events that finally caught up to him. Regardless, it made me realize that these moments, like the pivotal one in which this man could not restrain himself from responding physically, are why we study martial arts. We study, not just to improve our daily lives, but so that when these moments come we handle them calmly, from our center. I would like to think that, someone who truly understood the principles of aikido practice would never have responded in the way this man did. Most likely, someone with training would have realized that they should only drink but so much. Or perhaps even a person who understood the principles of martial arts training would realize that the person they desire is not necessarily the person that is right for them, and they should move on, preventing any future conflicts from occurring.

This man either did not have this type of training or chose not to heed it at a critical juncture, and the experience of serving on his trial made me realize the importance of civic duty and the importance of applying what you learn on the mat to your daily life.

Martial Arts and Bullying

This is a post that could get me in trouble.

With one noteable exception, I don’t tend to write things that I think might directly cause conflict with other people in the real world or in the blogosphere. It’s not really my place–there’s plenty to talk about, and it’s all to easy for people to take things out of context when it’s put out on the Internet. But there have been a few posts and comments lately that have caught my attention, and, with your indulgence, I’d like to spend at least a few minutes talking about them.

Over at the blog, Black Belt Mama, you can find this post and this other post. Both of these entries are well-written, and focus on the subject of bullying in schools. Both of these posts contain the same sentiments that I feel when my own child is threatened or mistreated. And both posts point out the fact that, too often, school systems are disinterested or unable to handle a bully in a classroom; worse, too often parents are so secretly glad that their child is the bully, instead of the bullied, that they turn a blind eye towards correcting that child’s abusive behavior towards another. I cannot find fault in the sentiments in these posts, for I feel them myself.

However, when I read through the posts, and the comments they contain, there appears to be a strong underlying theme that it is okay for the bullied child to fight fire with fire. For example, in one post, Black Belt Mama writes:

“The next time that kid even looks like she’s going to touch you, you tell her that if she kicks you, then you are going to kick her back. And when you kick her, you drop her, Big I. And if you get in trouble at school, know that Mommy will go in there and raise hell because you have a right to defend yourself, and . . . “

My reaction to this first started with “Kick her back? How does this solve the problem? Both kids will get in trouble, and her daughter will likely get the worst of it because of her martial arts training.” As I thought it about it, and read the post more carefully, I felt a bit better. Black Belt Mama isn’t telling her kid TO kick the other child. She is telling her child to let the other child know that, in no uncertain terms, she will defend herself to the best of her ability. In a way, I’m okay with this. At least she’s warning the other child not to do anything, as opposed to encouraging some sort of unannounced counterstrike.

What’s giving me pause for thought is not the reaction, but the limitations of it. One of the aspects of aikido that I emphasize highly is choice. Because we study how to remove an attacker’s posture and balance, we often have a wider range of options available to us. Once off-balance, your opponent is physically unable to continue their attack. And since we take our opponent’s balance so quickly in the confrontation, the would-be attacker quickly becomes the defender. How so? Off-balanced attackers are more concerned with preventing injury to themselves than they are with continuing the attack. This role-reversal puts us in a unique position of being able to determine how we want the conflict to end. Do we throw hard to the ground? Do we set the individual down gently? Either reaction could be correct depending on the circumstances, as would any other reaction that falls in-between. But I rarely, if ever, see this level of control demonstrated in other arts. Control of kicks? Sure. Control over a punch? Absolutely. But control over what type of reaction is most appropriate once a physical conflict begins? I’m not so confident. In my own experiences, I have never had someone tell me: sometimes you punch hard, and sometimes you don’t.

Which brings me back to the issue of dealing with bullies at school. I whole-heartedly agree that no student should ever attend school and be afraid of another student. And, in the posts I linked to above, I deplore the reaction of the teacher, who stated that the child should “work it out” for themselves. But encouraging your child to respond violently to a schoolyard attack? I would argue that such a solution does not end the conflict. Let’s look at the possible outcomes:

1. Your child gets hit, and doesn’t respond. This is clearly unacceptable.
2. Your child gets hit, hits back, and loses the resulting fight. The school then suspends both children for fighting. This is unacceptable.
3. Your child gets hit, hits back, and beats the other student. The school then suspends both children for fighting. This is unacceptable.

If none of these solutions are acceptable, what else might we do? I submit that there is a fourth option, which is in fact the one that Black Belt Mama’s daughter followed: she avoided the situation. But she did not avoid it out of fear; rather, she avoided it out of an instinctive understanding that escalating the conflict would not do anyone any good in the long run. Too often, we equate avoidance with “running away” or “caving in.” But this is not always the case. Sometimes, avoidance is simply re-configuring the environment so that the conflict can’t continue. Perhaps this is a more succinct way of describing what we study in aikido.

I think that we as parents need to pay close attention to what values we want our children to gain from martial arts training. We may pay lip service to issues such as honor and integrity, but if through our own actions and comments we encourage a more violent response, what message are we really conveying? Kids are very bright–they quickly seem to recognize when we are saying one thing, but doing another. And in those situations, they quite often choose to model themselves after what we do, not what we say.

I applaud Black Belt Mama for writing about this issue. Talking about one’s own child in the context of a bullying situation is difficult, and she has written something that I think we all should think about. I’d like to take her post a step further and turn her final statement into a question: If your child was being bullied at school, and you could be your child for just one day, what would you really do? I think the answer to that question might reveal more about what we really value when it comes to martial arts, self-defense, and daily life.