Kokyu and Ki

There is no 'between' phase to kokyu, only points along a spectrum.

Generally, I tell folks to inhale as they receive/intercept and exhale as the strike/throw. And this can lead to some confusion. There's really no difference, but to a beginner, using those images can help shift the paradigm and make movement easier. It's all tied intimately to breath and spirit and focus.

Ki moves constantly as you breathe. You exhale and ki flows. You inhale and ki flows. You don't suck up ki, it continues to flow into you from the universe. It is a circuit, not a balloon. We are conduits, not reservoirs.

By aligning the body properly, and aligning the spirit, and focusing intent through proper breathing, we exercise ki-power. This is tied to kokyu and factors into aiki and kiai (which are not simply obverses of the same term, BTW) ...

We can do whatever we want without ki. We don't have to use it. But ... it's just smoother and easier if we achive mind-body-spirit coordination, move from tandem/seika no itten/the one point and align ourselves _with_ the natural flow of ki.

This is why we open our hands, extend fingers. There's a symbolism (sort of a physical mnemonic, I guess) to having extended the fingers and extending the ki.

I frequently use the visual image of the silver thread, or the steady flow of water. The universal, the font of ki is a vast reservoir and we are each connected to it by a 'silver thread.' This is our flow, our conduit. With that thread, we move in the universal, take strength from it, give back to it ... and are thus connected to all other things as well.

By visualizing that thread, the pulse and flow of ki through it, we can overlay the ki paradigm and use those concepts to enhance our physical actions, mental acuity and spiritual connection. It's all musubi, you see ...

Once I got past the idea of drawing in ki and then sending it out, and realized that the flow was constant, it was all about how _I_ fit into that flow, how _I_ used that flow, it began to make more sense.

Chuck Gordon

Backround and Setting at Shodan Test

From last summer until earlier this year, I'd been what you might call a "ronin" in the Bay Area. I would travel from dojo to dojo, seminar to seminar, without having any particular dojo to call "home." In time, however, I found myself starting to train quite regularly at Aikido of Tamalpais.

From early on in the year, there were a handful of shodan candidates who were working very hard on their upcoming shodan tests in June at Tamalpais. For months before the test, whoever was teaching would ask, night after night, for each candidate to come up and demonstrate a handful of techniques, perform jiyuwaza, and then undergo one or two runs of randori. The atmosphere in the dojo was great; so many people were going up for tests that everyone was working with them during class and learning with them when they got corrections. It was kind of like riding this big wave of "test energy" in the dojo. This, along with a heart to heart conversation I had with a friend up at Tam, made me want to test for shodan.

In addition, during late March of this year, I found myself coming to a decision that I would join Tamalpais and ask to be considered as a candidate for shodan testing. The teachers there were wonderful, the training was lively, fun, and challenging, and the students were friendly -- all in all, I really liked the dojo. Unfortunately, my main instructor at Tamalpais, Wendy Palmer sensei, was away in South Africa until early April. I resolved myself to ask Wendy sensei to see whether I could join her dojo and be considered a candidate as soon as she came back.

It was an interesting week when I finally asked to join Tamalpais. On Tuesday of that week, I asked Wendy sensei if I could join Tam; she was very happy to hear this, and of course said yes. When I talked to her about being considered a candidate for testing, she said although she would be able to support my candidacy as she had seen my training for about a year at that time, she said would discuss this matter with George Leonard sensei, as they both had to agree on any decision made as far as the dojo went. George sensei told me he would like to see me in his classes for the next few weeks to see where I was in my training. So, on April 7th, I officially joined Aikido of Tamalpais and took off my hakama (as was the dojo policy at the time for mudansha).

That Saturday (April 11th), Tamalpais had a Shinto ritual with two Shinto priests who came to purify the dojo. On this date, Wendy sensei and George sensei announced that Tamalpais had been accepted into the ASU (Aikido Schools of Ueshiba) association with Saotome sensei. This was great news to me; I had been training in an ASU dojo previously, and I was acquainted with their weapons system. In addition, I got to put my hakama back on (as was the association policy).

The following Monday (April 13th), we held a farewell party that evening for Richard Heckler sensei who was leaving Aikido of Tamalpais after having cofounded the dojo and having taught there for over 20 years.

I kept training at Tam with both instructors for a few weeks until one night when George sensei told me that I should fill out a shodan candidacy form and put it up on the wall. I had been accepted as a candidate for testing for shodan.

Jun

Optimum Training Time

Some years ago, I came across an interesting exercise physiology study -- done at least a decade ago -- concerning the optimum amount of time spent training in any physical discipline.

According to the findings, 3 training sessions (of 1-2 hours duration each) per week is the most productive in terms of both physical conditioning and improving one's skills. Two times per week was found to be the minimum for maintaining oneself, but is not enough to make true progress in skill and strength. Four times per week was found to be not that much more productive than 3X per week.

Allowing time for muscles and joints to heal and rest is an important factor in between workouts. If you're training hard every day, eventually you will acrue more damage and fatigue than your body can handle. People who train more than 3 or 4 times per week should alternate the intensity of their workouts so that there are "light" days in between the "hardcore" ones.

On the psychological side, how many people get "addicted" to MA training mainly because they are fascinated by their martial art and want to drink it all in? And how many get hooked because the martial art discipline fills a social, intellectual, spiritual or emotional void in their lives?

Often, people recovering from a broken relationship, career disappointment, lost religious faith, loneliness and other ills will train obsessively. Sometimes they end up mellowing out over the years and come to love the art for itself, but too often an individual will turn his entire life over to the dojo because it has become the surrogate for a healthy home and family life, job satisfaction, or whatever.

It's one thing to find something absolutely riveting and to devote your life to exploring all its nooks and crannies, and quite another to become obsessed to the point of burnout.

Just a few ramblin' thoughts on the subject.

Cady Goldfield

About Ukemi

So many people think that ukemi is about falling down, how to fall down, about being thrown. Well, of course it is, but it is also about so much more.

It is about engagement, both physical and energetic (which starts way before the physical and lasts way after). It is about intent, about attack and continuation of the attack. It is about looking for the opening to take back control after you have been unbalanced. It is about keeping up the attack while keeping yourself safe. It is about sticking in there as long as possible to try to find a hole, so if nage makes some mistake, you haven't bailed out and are no longer around. It's about separating from the other person when it becomes futile to continue, so that you can live to come back and attack again. It's about constant awareness of all that is around you. I see so many people just taking cool looking falls. Yeah, it's fun, and some people may think it looks cool, but many times (not always) it's not ukemi. And often after the big jump the person either lies there or gets up but without awareness, so that the person who just threw uke could in fact step on uke or attack from behind. This awareness, this connection with your surroundings is what I find missing in most practice. I took ukemi for a shihan at an embu [public demonstration] recently. Afterwards, a guy came up to me and told me "Your ukemi- You never took your eyes off of him." Of course I never took my eyes off the the person I am engaged with. If I did, I would have a large opening and he would kill me.

Sometimes it is necessary to take a breakfall or some "spectacular" ukemi like that. So for those few instances, we must practice such falls. But we must be clear about this. And even when practicing these types of falls, not get sucked into the "I wanna take cool looking falls" trap.

Uke and nage -- both are always attacking each other's center, both must keep themselves safe, both must find a way to take the other's balance, to keep the connection. Always engaged, always connected. This is budo training.

Lisa Tomoleoni

Life, Not Death

Over the years I have been involved with the "martial arts" in one manner or another. I have found Aikido to be a singularly unique experience for me. That is why for the past three decades, I have concentrated my efforts on understanding its application to my life.

From near death (Myasthenia Gravis) to spiritual happiness, Aikido has always been an integral part of my life. Through thirty years of marriage, two children, two grandchildren, and three dogs, Aikido has always been a part of what I am to those I love. I could not say I "do" Aikido, for that would be separating part of me from myself. Aikido is as much what I am as is my heart.

When we are interacting with others on the mat, we are not doing something other than what we intend to be doing. That is, each technique is full and 100% that which we intend to do. We are not involved with little "life and death scenarios" played out by some arts, nor are we involved with the psychodynamics of the "victor" and the "vanquished." In Aikido I do not pretend to kill or injure you and you do not pretend to kill and injure me. We are involved with Aikido -- not pretend war.

From my own experience if you practice a combat art and are not injured to the point of needing medical attention at least once a year, then you're playing a game. There is nothing wrong with this as long as you know it's a game and don't think it's something more. When I was involved in war or preparing for war, I studied war arts. When I lived in places where the streets were mean enough to cause concern for my life and well being, I practiced such arts. Thank God I no longer have a need for that and I have found an art with the principle tenet being life not death.

Dennis Hooker

Morihei Ueshiba Way of Teaching

Aikido is a manifestation of a way to reorder the world of humanity as though everyone were of one family. Its purpose is to build a paradise right here on earth.

Aikido is nothing but an expression of the spirit of Love for all living things.

It is important not to be concerned with thoughts of victory and defeat. Rather, you should let the ki of your thoughts and feelings blend with the Universal.

Aikido is not an art to fight with enemies and defeat them. It is a way to lead all human beings to live in harmony with each other as though everyone were one family. The secret of aikido is to make yourself become one with the universe and to go along with its natural movements. One who has attained this secret holds the universe in him/herself and can say, "I am the universe."

If anyone tries to fight me, it means that s/he is going to break harmony with the universe, because I am the universe. At the instant when s/he conceives the desire to fight with me, s/he is defeated.

Nonresistance is one of the principles of aikido. Because there is no resistance, you have won before even starting. People whose minds are evil or who enjoy fighting are defeated without a fight.

The secret of aikido is to cultivate a spirit of loving protection for all things.

I do not think badly of others when they treat me unkindly. Rather, I feel gratitude towards them for giving me the opportunity to train myself to handle adversity.

You should realize what the universe is and what you are yourself. To know yourself is to know the universe.

When the founder passed away in 1969, sword training at the Honbu dojo in Japan ceased to exist as a part of the regular curriculum. At that time sword training was only available for select high ranking students and was conducted somewhat behind closed doors. Although the taking away of an opponents weapons continued to be a part of the testing process, teaching the use and handling of sword was, for all practical purposes, suspended completely.

Since that time the controversy over whether or not the practice of sword is really an integral part of, or even valuable to, aikido training has continued to intensify. There is little doubt however that Ueshiba Morihei O-sensei, the founder of aikido, considered it as an essential part of his teaching as well as his own training. He constantly used weapons, especially the sword, to show the principles of aikido. Why is swordsmanship so valuable for understanding the essence of aikido? If we view this question from an historical perspective the answer becomes quite clear.

O-sensei, by his own declaration, was the founder of aikido, yet not the creator of aiki principle itself. This principle was recognized in the ancient sword traditions of Japan as well as in the philosophy of Japanese Shinto. O-sensei was a devout student of Shinto and spent at least several years studying Japanese sword. Among the styles of sword that the founder studied was the ancient Kashima style which dates from the fifteenth century. The foundation of that school is the concept of Shinbu, "the divine martial way" in which one wins without fighting. To accomplish this was to develop oneself, both physically and spiritually, to the level of the gods.

Shin, in this case means "divine" and Bu refers to the creative force of life, the power of musubi, or becoming one with your partner. This was described as hoyo doka, an all-embracing acceptance of even the negative feelings of others and the re-integration of that magnanimous attitude back to those who would attack us. Practically speaking this acceptance and re-absorption is the ability to receive your partners energy and unify with it in such a way that his power is reduced to zero. In aikido this is a good explanation of what we call the power of kokyu. To master the spiritual and psychological aspects of this ability was called aiki. The word aiki was also used to denote the highest level of mastery in the Yagyu sword style in which O-sensei also excelled.

The really incredible achievement of the founder was to apply these principles to barehanded training in a new and unique manner. Why was this not accomplished in those ancient times? Every sword style contained its own interpretation of grappling or jutsu forms. This was necessary on the battlefield in case a warrior lost his weapon in the heat of battle. To be able to take away another mans sword when you had no weapon was considered the highest achievement in the Yagyu style.

It required the great spiritual vision of O-sensei to see barehanded training not as grappling but rather as sword without a sword. Even the great Kano sensei, the founder of Judo, declared aikido to be the art he had been searching for all his life. O-sensei through his own spiritual practices realized that we could use our hands, or even our mind alone, like a sword, to cut through our partners attack or defense. Combining his spiritual vision with actual sword training he realized that it was possible to extend the influence of our ki, or intention, beyond our fingers in the same way that our movement and reach is extended when holding a sword. Ki extension is the essence of muto or "sword without a sword" and that is no better exemplified than in the practice of aikido.

In studying sword we learn to control the kensen, the line that the kirisaki, the tip of the sword, draws in each cut. Eventually we are able to draw that line with our minds eye alone. This ability is one of the secrets of aikido practice. It enables us see the invisible form within each technique and to send out energy precisely to the correct place in our partners body. This ability takes many years to realize; without sword training, the student is much less likely to discover it.

Cutting with the Japanese sword is an expansive motion in which the tip of the sword must be unified with ones center. The basic diagonal cut, called kesa giri, may be equated with ikkyo in barehanded aikido training. If one truly masters this one cut, he or she has already realized shin shin toitsu or body-mind unification. Within kesa giri is the secret of natural spiral movement. The sword falls by its weight alone and the weight of the body comes to ride on top of its free fall. The turning of the hips and the subtle connection between your own center and the tip of the sword create effortless power and speed. Just as in aikido, this basic way of cutting with the sword is dependent on a continual expansion of our feeling; in fact, that is the life of the movement itself.

In addition, the footwork and total overall movement of swordsmanship match that of aikido exactly. Every move in aikido, correctly understood, is a cutting motion. After all, the sword was created to fit the natural movement of the body and not the other way around. Herein lies one of the major differences between aikido and any of the various schools of jujutsu. The nikkyo, sankyo, and yonkyo of aikido, for example, are performed as expansive cutting motions rather than as contracting wristlocks.

Aikido is an extremely subtle and difficult art. It requires a lifetime of dedication in order to grasp its essence. Because of its difficulty, aikido is quite often misinterpreted and practiced either as a form of jujutsu or merely as aerobic exercise. Practicing in either of these ways lacks both martial and spiritual content. Aikido techniques are designed to be ineffective until one has grasped the essence of expansive spiral motion and proper use of ki or internal power. They cannot therefore be effectively used in the same manner as jujutsu techniques, which depend largely on contracting motion for the purpose of breaking the partners joints.

Combining the study of sword with barehanded techniques we are able to discover the complementary antagonism of flexibility and relaxed power together with sharpness and precision. In the words of the founder, "In barehanded practice you should move as if you had a sword; when holding a sword you should not depend on it but move as if you had none." Studying this mental kamae, or stance, keeps us focused on the reality of a martial situation and at the same time allows us to remain flexible and relaxed. To unify these opposites is to discover aikido principle: yin and yang as one, movement and rest as one, irimi-tenkan as one, the unification of all opposites in a kind of dynamic monism.

This article is, of course, a large overview, and the many similarities between weapons and barehanded training can only come to be appreciated through proper training with a qualified teacher. It will not suffice merely to repeat sword kata as fixed forms without discovering their strategy and content. Each student, under the supervision of a qualified instructor, must take up the forms of both sword and barehanded training as parts of a whole, and through continual research and analysis, strive to refine his or her own individual practice to higher and higher levels of expertis

Bill Gleason

Woods for Training Weapons

The qualities that define the character of Bokken, Jo and other traditional Japanese wooden weapons, rest entirely on the integrity of the material itself. There are hundeds of wood choices overall and many regional varieties worthy of consideration but as we shall see in this section there are actually very few that are well suited for all situations that martial artists encounter in their weapons training.

The Japanese have always used their native evergreen white oak (Shiro Kashi) for most training weapons used in paired practice where there is likelyhood of impact with a partner's wooden weapons or armor. Kashi isn't generally considered a "fine" wood but its tough, reliable, relatively dense character is well suited for impact tool handles and martial art equipment. Many other materials and wood species are available in Japan. Unique weapons of unusual construction and materials, including several superb tropical varieties, are produced but only intended for settings appropriate to their scarcity, cost and appearance. Centuries of practical wisdom support this distinction between the utilitarian and the formal as it relates to martial art weapons.

The extension of the Japanese martial arts to other parts of the world, where no native tradition exists in the manufacture of related practice equipment, fosters attempts to produce traditional wooden swords and the like without the benefit of any accumulated local wisdom or reliable material from local sources. Because of this, there has been a tendency of non Japanese to overlook a distinction which is taken for granted in Japan - the role of materials suitable for routine practice and that of materials which are appropriate for presentation and ritual. Instead, many foreign practitioners view all equipment on a purely "qualitative level" and perceive the value of one's practice as being influenced by the degree of beauty and precision of the weapon - a notion generally discouraged by both Japanese and non Japanese masters and one, I think, that remains an obstacle in the development of weapons training. The following section is intended to guide the reader to an understanding of various materials and their appropriate use.

For both the utilitarian and refined, the wood is the weapon. Its strength, density, stability, color and texture are the potential for quality. Although a mediocre weapon may come from an exceptional piece of wood, it will always have within it the possibilities dictated by the the quality of the material. No amount of artistry will make a good practice weapon out of a mediocre piece of wood.

As it turns out, there are very few kinds of wood that are suitable for wooden weapons, especially ones longer than two feet or so where density and shock stength are important. Most hardwoods, especially the dozens of commercial species including native oak, maple, cherry, walnut etc. have mechanical drawbacks and most modern synthetic materials are not esthetically or historically appropriate to the traditional martial arts. It is little surprise that the materials chosen in this situation are not often seen in common woodworking where so many other readily available options exist.

The descriptions and information here include factual data concerning wood selections based on the production of thousands of wooden weapons for Japanese martial arts, published information and actual tests of hundreds of wood samples subjected to the stresses expected in paired practice.

It is necessary to categorize information and the following study, like all others, combines individuals of a species as if they were one but actually reflects an average of many unique members. In the case of natural wood there are significant differences within a species and the reader should consider the diversity: For example, American Black Walnut in general doesn't have suitable shock strength or dent resistance for this application and we would be tempted to unequevically extend this judgement to all Black Walnut. Under some (rare) conditions however, an individual tree may produce lumber that will produce a servicable and perhaps an excellent practice weapon. Several of the true hickories from a specific region (which will be discussed later) yield excellent quality lumber in general but an individual piece may be weaker than unusually good piece of material from an "inferior" species.

James Goedkoop

The Concept Of Ki

The concept of ki is one of the most difficult associated with the philosophy and practice of aikido. Since the word "aikido" means something like "the way of harmony with ki," it is hardly surprising that many aikidoka are interested in understanding just what ki is supposed to be. Etymologically, the word "ki" derives from the Chinese "chi." In Chinese philosophy, chi was a concept invoked to differentiate living from non-living things. But as Chinese philosophy developed, the concept of chi took on a wider range of meanings and interpretations. On some views, chi was held to be the most basic explanatory material principle - the metaphysical "stuff" out of which all things were made. The differences between things depended not on some things having chi and others not, but rather on a principle (li, Japanese = ri) which determined how the chi was organized and functioned (the view here bears some similarity to the ancient Greek matter-form metaphysic).

Modern aikidoka are less concerned with the historiography of the concept of ki than with the question of whether or not the term "ki" denotes anything real, and, if so, just what it does denote. There have been some attempts to demonstrate the objective existence of ki as a kind of "energy" or "stuff" that flows within the body (especially along certain channels, called "meridians"). So far, however, there are no reputable studies which conclusively demonstrate the existence of ki. Traditional Chinese medicine appeals to ki/chi as a theoretical entity, and some therapies based on this framework have been shown to produce more positive benefit than placebo, but it is entirely possible that the success of such therapies is better explained in ways other than supposing the truth of ki/chi theory. Many people claim that certain forms of exercise or concentration enable them to feel ki flowing through their bodies. Since such reports are subjective, they cannot constitute objective evidence for ki as a "stuff." Nor do anecdotal accounts of therapeutic effects of various ki practices constitute evidence for the objective existence of ki - anecdotal evidence does not have the same evidential status as evidence resulting from reputable double-blind experiments involving strict controls. Again, it may be that ki does exist as an objective phenomenon, but reliable evidence to support such a view is so far lacking.

There are a number of aikidoka who claim to be able to demonstrate the (objective) existence of ki by performing various sorts of feats. One such feat, which is very popular, is the so-called "unbendable arm." In this exercise, one person,, extends her arm, while another person, , tries to bend the arm. First, makes a fist and tightens the muscles in her arm. is usually able to bend the arm. Next, relaxes her arm (but leaves it extended) and "extends ki" (since "extending ki" is not something most newcomers to aikido know precisely how to do, is often simply advised to think of her arm as a fire-hose gushing water, or some such similar metaphor). This time, finds it (far) more difficult to bend the arm. The conclusion is supposed to be that it is the force/activity of ki that accounts for the difference. However, there are alternative explanations expressible within the vocabulary or scope of physics (or, perhaps, psychology) that are fully capable of accounting for the phenomenon here (subtle changes in body positioning, for example). In addition, the fact that it is difficult to filter out the biases and expectations of the participants in such demonstrations makes it all the more questionable whether they provide reliable evidence for the objective existence of ki.

Not all aikidoka believe that ki is a kind of "stuff" or "energy." For some aikidoka, ki is an expedient concept - a blanket-concept which covers intentions, momentum, will, and attention. If one eschews the view that ki is a stuff that can literally be extended, to extend ki is to adopt a physically and psychologically positive bearing. This maximizes the efficiency and adaptability of one's movement, resulting in stronger technique and a feeling of affirmation both of oneself and one's partner.

Irrespective of whether one chooses to take a realist or an anti-realist stance with respect to the objective existence of ki, there can be little doubt that there is more to aikido than the mere physical manipulation of another person's body. Aikido requires a sensitivity to such diverse variables as timing, momentum, balance, the speed and power of an attack, and especially to the psychological state of one's partner (or of an attacker).

In addition, to the extent that aikido is not a system for gaining physical control over others, but rather a vehicle for self-improvement (or even enlightenment (see satori)), there can be little doubt that cultivation of a positive physical and psychological bearing is an important part of aikido. Again, one may or may not wish to describe the cultivation of this positive bearing in terms of ki.

Eric Sotnac

We Don't Fight

While driving a group of students on one of my trips this summer the subject of fighting came up and I commented that "Aikidoists don't fight." Some of you may now be asking, "If this won't help me in fighting, why am I studying it?" That is a fair question. Let's explore the answer.

While Aikido is indeed a martial art, that does not automatically make it a fighting art. We are an art of peace, not fighting. Our object is not to fight, but rather to restore peace where it is absent. This is not done by reducing your antagonist to a bloody hulk. Our techniques are developed to a place of calm rather than one of agitated tension. We work on harmonious relationships rather than contentious ones. We espouse relaxation in the face of tension. None of our behaviors support the concept of fighting.

Now, what is fighting? Fighting is "To struggle against in battle or physical combat." (Britannica World Language Dictionary). In my view it takes two or more to have a fight. An antagonist may try to fight us but his efforts are ineffective because his perspective is flawed. While he is fighting or struggling against us, we are simply trying to find a resolving action to bring the individual into harmony with us and the nature around us. If we elect to fight we have changed our mind set to one which is not consistent with Aikido philosophy and so have departed from the practice of aikido.

This "attitude adjustment" is what takes so long for most of us who study aikido. The techniques can be learned in a relatively short period of time but it can be years before they become as effective as they can be because of the time it takes to learn and internalize the spirit of aikido. Until that time, most of us are simply using aikido techniques to fight more effectively but we are not truly practicing aikido as the founder, O Sensei, and Master Tohei envision it.

Eto Sensei, during his seminars in Virginia and Maryland, stressed the absence of "fighting mind." When he learned to throw away fighting mind, he was able to truly find the power of aikido. Should we do any less in our lives?

When you study aikido to become a better fighter, you will learn some good techniques to help you in your quest but you will never find the path to true aikido. Only by setting aside the goal of becoming a better fighter and adopting the goal of developing a non-fighting mind will you find the true path to aikido and its message for the world.

During daily training you will find this path by seeking the flow associated with a technique: Where is the power of the opponent and how can it help me in creating harmony of movement? How can I lead this power during a technique? If I have mis-read the power or it has changed, how can I find the path to achieve a state of harmony? These are the real questions, not how quickly can I throw or trash an opponent. These latter questions are those of fighting while the more complex questions asked earlier are those of the questor for aikido truth.

George Simcox