Thoughts On Teaching

Most of us have heard or taken part in discussions about whether it is better to talk about budo as we teach and learn. Some "experts" say it is not good to describe technique and fill students' heads with "conceptual knowledge" instead of experiential knowledge. Then there are other "experts" who say the opposite. Who is right? Is anyone right?

There are traditionalists who do not want to do anything different than O-Sensei or whoever else is ion the aikido pedestal at any given time. There are those who do their best to do the opposite just because they are rebels and want to be "original." This type of polarized thinking is always limiting. As in most things, I think the answer lies in a little of this and a little of that... so that the eventual blend is appropriate to produce the desired result.

Here is my take on the subject. I welcome input from others on this subject as we are all searching for efficient ways to educate ourselves and each other.

The goal is to help students acquire a basic "picture" of how aikido works and give them an educational curriculum which contains the fundamental tools necessary to learn and practice budo. If their inner picture is of some "powerful expert" (no matter where the power comes from or how it is described) who can throw people through the air and cause excruciating pain at will, then they will try to practice that way. If students are shown that proper posture, movement, timing, and understanding of principle lead to gentle, but powerful technique, then they will practice that way. Many teachers only teach their own favorite variations which work well for them. This does not produce well-rounded students who eventually develop their own aikido. The curriculum must also contain continuing levels of experience which raise us to the place we all can see in our grate master teachers' practice.

The methodology I try to use to teach the basic tools is based on the educational theory that we learn best when we use a combination of all our sensory pathways: 1. Visual, 2. Auditory, and 3. Kinesthetic.

Some of us are dominant in one area and learn best when that is favored. I think a good teacher can "feel" how each individual student learns, and will make sure that learning happens. Essentially, we must demonstrate the whole, then break it down into parts, and practice, then put it back together again into the whole, and practice more (the Whole -- Part -- Whole method). This teaching/learning is an ongoing process. We will develop the basic tools which will enable us to experience and deepen our practice using all of our senses.

Instructors and teachers must also understand that a student who learns better from "feeling the technique,' for example, can be educated and expanded by using methods which cause the student to work hard, endure, and pass through frustration, forging them into much more than we thought possible. Getting students to "perform" what appears to be good physical budo technique is not the entire goal. There is much more to our practice and I will leave with all of us wondering (and wandering) how to eventually end up where we want to go. We must look to our teachers and keep the memory of their teachers alive in our practice. We cannot just become as good as our teachers; we must become better than our teachers.

Chuck Clark

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

New Student Performance

"Wow! That's great! You must have been practicing a lot! Now that's what I want to see! Try it with a slightly smaller step next time and I bet it's even better." The instructor goes to the next student and the smiling student who was the target of the praise continues only with a little more focus and a bit more determination.

You weren't patronizing. You weren't giving false praise. You really were pleased and you really did see the improved performance. But you could have just said, "your steps are too big," and withheld the praise. Or you could have asked, "how can you keep screwing up so much when I have already told you to shorten your steps?"

You have the choice of criticizing or critiquing. You can evaluate the person or the performance. You can be subjective or objective. You can teach for your sake, or for your students' sake. You always have these choices.

The correct choice is obvious, but we don't always make the one obvious choice. Sometimes, we want to be in control. Sometimes, we ant to impress. Sometimes, we just run out of patience or bring our own baggage.

We're human too, so we have to watch for human flaws in our teaching methods. There aren't very many opportunities in life that give us more control over other people than when they ask us to teach them. They give us their mind and body and trust us to help them. They have become vulnerable and we must honor that trust. This is a huge responsibility.

One way of being sure that you're treating students appropriately is to realize that they are the most important resource we have. They are valuable. We need them or our art will wither and die. If we allow our ego or mood to drive even one student (who may have become the next Ueshiba) away, we are all poorer. The greatest opportunity for miscommunication is when we are trying to communicate complex or abstract ideas.

Remember this rule and you will find your criticisms are taken in the way you intend: Always critique the performance, never criticize the person.

Even though the difference between "you're stepping too far again" and "your step is still too long" is slight and would not be noticed by the advanced student, the beginner may still be fragile, afraid of failing. At this point you would achieve even more by a positive suggestion such as "try taking shorter steps." This gives the student something specific to try, shifting the focus from person to performance.

The shift from person to performance also teaches the student to look at performance as an accomplishment. Something that can be displayed and evaluated; a thing apart. Self-evaluation soon follows. Accomplishment is the new goal and you and your student can work on it together.

Next time you are teaching, listen to yourself from the student's point of view. Are you listing mistakes or suggesting changes? Are you describing a personal fault or a performance fault? Do you want to change the performance or the person? Check out your own performance and see how you are doing. Critique yourself. See if you can be a little more clear about your expectations. See if there is room for more student praise and encouragement. See if you are earning the trust and respect of your students (or if they are just respecting your belt). If so, praise yourself. If not, make some personal suggestions on performance improvement.

Chuck Clark

Firt Time of Fall

I am in no position to comment on how good Doshu is but the first time he ever threw me, it changed a large part of my outlook on Aikido. Up till that time I was unsure about what "strong" technique was. I would try to ensure that my technique was clean and crisp, and there was good extension of Ki.

Doshu indicated for a morotetori attack and I complied. As he led me around him, I thought: "Boy, there isn't much strength here. Grabbing him is like grabbing smoke. He isn't really even leading me around." As I was completing the 360 degree turn into the iriminage, I thought: "I guess I should look for a place to land so I can take a good fall for him." At that point, I found myself staring up at the ceiling. I didn't understand how I got there. It was kind of like a time warp. The instant I had thought about falling, I had already fallen, so smoothly and softly that I didn't notice having done so.

Was it a "strong" throw? Was it a quick one? I don't know and I figure it really didn't matter anyway. I was down there where I was supposed to be.

I still try for clean, crisp technique and good extension of Ki but if I can get a person to jump for me, regardless of their initial intent, it saves me a lot of work. I figure, in practice, you should practice for the worst-case scenarios. But reality hardly ever turns out into worst case (not best case either).

A lot of Aikido is about self-defense and self-defense is about your ability to control your own environment. How you control your environment is up to you and the knowledge, skills, and abilities you possess. Aikido provides you with another set of skills and knowledge to help you control your environment. Those skills vary from crash-bang to smoke and mirrors. You use the tools most appropriate for the situation and move on (you might wish to leave a silver tanto).

Rock

History of Aikido

Aikido's founder, Morihei Ueshiba, was born in Japan on December 14, 1883. As a boy, he often saw local thugs beat up his father for political reasons. He set out to make himself strong so that he could take revenge. He devoted himself to hard physical conditioning and eventually to the practice of martial arts, receiving certificates of mastery in several styles of jujitsu, fencing, and spear fighting. In spite of his impressive physical and martial capabilities, however, he felt very dissatisfied. He began delving into religions in hopes of finding a deeper significance to life, all the while continuing to pursue his studies of budo, or the martial arts. By combining his martial training with his religious and political ideologies, he created the modern martial art of aikido. Ueshiba decided on the name "aikido" in 1942 (before that he called his martial art "aikibudo"and "aikinomichi").

On the technical side, aikido is rooted in several styles of jujitsu (from which modern judo is also derived), in particular daitoryu-(aiki)jujitsu, as well as sword and spear fighting arts. Oversimplifying somewhat, we may say that aikido takes the joint locks and throws from jujitsu and combines them with the body movements of sword and spear fighting. However, we must also realize that many aikido techniques are the result of Master Ueshiba's own innovation.

On the religious side, Ueshiba was a devotee of one of Japan's so-called "new religions," Omotokyo. Omotokyo was (and is) part neo-Shintoism, and part socio-political idealism. One goal of Omotokyo has been the unification of all humanity in a single "heavenly kingdom on earth" where all religions would be united under the banner of Omotokyo. It is impossible sufficiently to understand many of O-sensei's writings and sayings without keeping the influence of Omotokyo firmly in mind.

Despite what many people think or claim, there is no unified philosophy of aikido. What there is, instead, is a disorganized and only partially coherent collection of religious, ethical, and metaphysical beliefs which are only more or less shared by aikidoka, and which are either transmitted by word of mouth or found in scattered publications about aikido.

Some examples: "Aikido is not a way to fight with or defeat enemies; it is a way to reconcile the world and make all human beings one family." "The essence of aikido is the cultivation of ki [a vital force, internal power, mental/spiritual energy]." "The secret of aikido is to become one with the universe." "Aikido is primarily a way to achieve physical and psychological self-mastery." "The body is the concrete unification of the physical and spiritual created by the universe." And so forth.

At the core of almost all philosophical interpretations of aikido, however, we may identify at least two fundamental threads: (1) A commitment to peaceful resolution of conflict whenever possible. (2) A commitment to self-improvement through aikido training.

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

Testing in Aikido

A test or ranking is not just for the person taking the rank test. It is as much for the rest of the Dojo, the Sensei, and newbies who don't know the people in the Dojo.

There are several reasons for testing. One of these reasons is to show newer people what they need to learn, to provide a standard for them. Another is to show the Sensei how you perform under stress. Another is to give a belt rank that allows newbies to know what rank you are so that they can go to you for help. These are just a few of the reasons.

Why should someone NOT stop taking tests? Well, it becomes very embarrassing for the people who have taken rank tests to have someone who is lower ranked be technically and conceptually better than them. However, if a person hasn't taken rank when then should have, then the person does not deserve it yet since the person does not yet understand the importance of ranking for the benefit of the whole Dojo. Interesting, if a person will not take rank tests, then they don't deserve the rank yet. I have recently had to deal with this problem here in Hong Kong. The person thought they were being very humble but after looking deeply into his motivations, he realized that rather than being humble, he was being very arrogant. All those of you who are not taking rank test to remain humble, please review your motivations carefully, they may not be as pure as you think. I know since I once looked at things in the same way myself.

In Hong Kong, we give tests in front of a Board. As a member of the Board, I am not concerned only with how the individual performs in the exam, but their long-term performance in day-to-day practice. I think all of us have had instances when we are at seminars and a Sensei is standing next to us watching our technique and there is no way that you can do the technique correctly even though it is normally your favourite and best technique. In fact, you were probably doing it quite well while the Sensei was not looking but you foul up as soon as you feel his or her eyes upon you. This is why our tests are usually at the end of a period of practice during which I have a chance to watch the testees practicing their technique.

Second, the spirit of the Aikidoist is important. Does the person help others? Does the person understand the principles behind the techniques? Does the person have good Dojo Reigi? Will I be embarrassed if this person visits another Dojo? Does the person have good ukemi? Does the person practice vigorously with commitment? Do they have good zanshin? What is their mindset as they test? Will the person keep going even when the chips are down?

Third, what is the person capable of? Are they working to their limits (part of the spirit question maybe)? How is their progress?

Fourth, will conferring the higher rank improve their Aikido through improvement of their confidence? Maybe the person needs some help to stop worrying about the test so they can get on with their practicing and learning?

Fifth, what is their commitment to Aikido? How often do they come to practice? How often do they ask questions? Are they thinking about Aikido all the time.

Sixth, what is their potential? Am I wasting my time on this person? Are they only looking for rank or are they truly interesting in getting a chance to learn more advanced techniques? Why are they testing?

Seventh, how is this person's Aikido relative to the others in the Dojo with whom they practice? This is the equity question relative to others in the Dojo or association or federation. This question should not be answered only in terms of technique but also time spent in Aikido, the amount of work the person does for Aikido (including administrative work), and the visibility of the person in the Dojo.

Eighth, how is the power of this person's techniques? After all, this is a MARTIAL ART! What is the martial competence of the person?

Ninth, will conferring the higher rank do anything for Aikido as a whole or for the Dojo or association/federation? Will the person be a good ambassador for Aikido to outsiders? Will be person help to make Aikido grow?

There are probably a few other issues I have forgotten at present. The list is not in any specific order, especially since depending upon the specific case-by-case circumstances, which issue is most important will differ. All of these issues, though, must be balanced off. No one issue ever disappears off the list. Things just change in weighting and there is no weighting of zero.

Please note that these are my own personal criteria and are not necessarily that of any others.

By the way, these criteria hold whether the ranking is for Mudansha or Yudansha.

Rock

History Of Martial Arts

The history of martial arts is both long and universal. Martial arts likely existed in every culture, and at all classes and levels of society, from the family unit up to small communities, for instance, villages and even ethnic groups. One example is tantui, a northern Chinese kicking art, often said to be practiced among Chinese Muslims. Systems of fighting have likely been in development since learning became transferable among humans, along with the strategies of conflict and war. In some places, such as Indonesia and the Philippines, one can still see this plethora of village fighting systems.

Every martial arts system, and every martial arts school has its own history. This generally falls into two categories: recent history and ancient history.

Recent history, in this context, is relatively verifiable: who did the teacher learn from? Where did the teacher study? What other arts has the teacher studied, and how has the teacher incorporated them into their teaching? Was the teacher given permission to teach by their teacher? What are the teacher’s goals in teaching the class?

This last question deserves some explanation. Some classes are taught primarily to teach students to become effective competitors in tournaments.

Some classes are taught to attempt to teach the students to defend themselves effectively against some class of imagined situations. Some classes are taught to preserve an ancient tradition. The practical details of these distinct kinds of classes will be very different.

Ancient history, at least in the sense used here, is much more difficult. In fact, for most systems it is essentially a myth — in the sense that it is propagated by word-of-mouth among students in the absence of verifiable evidence. This is not to say that it is not also true! But the importance of such a history does not depend on its truth: the effect of such a myth on shaping the development of a martial art is probably much greater than the effect of events two hundred years ago (at least five generations of passing the art on from teacher to student). So an art that is believed to be an art of warriors will focus on battlefield effectiveness and weapon use against highly skilled opponents, while an art that is believed to be for self-defense will focus on reactions to surprise attack and multiple opponents.

The history of martial arts around the world is therefore quite complex; on the one hand, most groups of people have had to defend themselves and have developed effective fighting techniques, but on the other hand, most of those techniques have been rendered militarily obsolete over the centuries. Even at an individual, rural level, the threat to the safety of a village is now more likely to come from warriors armed with automatic rifles than from men with swords. Furthermore, it is extremely difficult to preserve a martial art; doing so requires many years of teaching at the hands of a good teacher to pass on the art for a single generation. So it is relatively rare that a martial art would survive and become popular in today’s culture, and each art that has done so has a unique history. Some generalities can be said, though, and the next few sections will attempt to discuss the overall rise to popularity of some martial arts.

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

Did Morihei Ueshiba Invent Aikido?

dios kaze wrote:

am I to understand that you are saying that Aikido is a perfected form of an earlier art. Rather like an adult getting back to the babies way of breathing, is Aikido getting back to an earlier Martial art?

I'm going to open a can of worms here, and then get out of the way.

I don't think Ueshiba invented anything. What I think he was is, one of the greatest synthesizers in the history of Budo. NONE of the techniques or particular applications found in Aikido is newer than at least 400 years old, and since I can show you proof of most of them going back to pyramidsof Egypt, I tend to suspect that all of them go back that far.

What Ueshiba did, was take a very brutal art, Daito Ryu, as taught by Takeda Sokaku, and meld it with the philosophy of Omoto-kyo. This melding is what made it possible for him, and for those who have followed him, to extend their use of it's principles to every corner of life. Kano Sensei tried to do this with Judo, but his dream got hijacked by thieves searching for Olympic gold and glory. I could write extensively about applying Judo on and off the mat, but 99.99% of Judoka are only interested in competitive judo. The rest of us seem to end up doing at least a little aikido.

Most of what Ueshiba is famous for can be found by other, equally skilled masters in other arts, and most of the quotes that are associated with him by people outside Japan actually come from much more ancient Japanese writings (the Japanese he was speaking and writing for understood this, so I'm not implying he plagarized them).

Given the above, you could say that Ueshiba borrowed everything that is Aikido. Or you could say like a cook baking a cake from flour, eggs, and sugar that are already in the kitchen, that he created it from scratch. How you want to look at it is up to you.

Peter "the Budo Bum has put on his asbestos undies, so flame away" Boylan

Peter Boylan

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.

Tissier Aikido Show

Here is the amazing Aikido Movements of Master Tissier

Christian Tissier - Short Biography

Christian Tissier (born 1951 in Paris, France) is one of the best known European Aikido teachers, who pioneered the art in France. He started training in Aikido as a child in 1962, and trained under Mutsuro Nakazono in Paris until he left for Tokyo in 1969. He came to Aikikai Hombu Dojo as an 18 year old, and trained there for seven years. Among the teachers that have inspired him are Seigo Yamaguchi, Kisaburo Osawa and the second doshu Kisshomaru Ueshiba. While training at hombu dojo, he taught French language at a school and Institut franco-japonais de Tokyo.

He received 7th dan in 1998, and is among the handful of westerners who have been given the title Shihan by the Aikikai.

He is a member of the Fédération Française d'Aïkido, Collège Technique who participate in the examination boards of grades, Patent of State, Federal Patent UFA

Talking with Sword

When learning the art of the sword, we are often told that we should wield it as an extension of our own body. The sword’s edge and tip should exhibit all the speed, power and grace of the hand that holds it, for instance. That is a fine objective—but what if the hand has no speed, power or grace to start with?

According to one classical perspective, no student should be given sword instruction until they have first qualified themselves to learn, by demonstrating mastery of barehanded technique. In some styles of martial arts, this might require thousands of hours of study.

Narrowing the focus during these initial months, or years of training might seem to benefit everyone involved. It can, and frequently it does. However, in some cases, it will actually hinder the student’s overall progress. The sword itself is an excellent instructor, to those who will heed its lessons.

What is Biofeedback?

Biofeedback is a method of expanding conscious awareness into realms that are typically governed by the unconscious mind. The subject of biofeedback training is instrumented with equipment that amplifies, records and displays biometric data, such as body temperature, heart rate, and skin conductivity. Experiments have shown that, if a subject is made aware of small fluctuations in these ostensibly involuntary processes (i.e. with the help of biofeedback equipment), that subject can more easily bring these processes under their conscious control.

Biofeedback machines, such as an electroencephalograph (EEG) or digital thermometer, can be expensive and complex. They can also be simple and cheap. Bicycle training wheels, which allow a rider to tip over slightly without immediately falling down, provide a useful form of biometric feedback. In fact, an intelligent person can press nearly any tool into service as a biofeedback device—including their sword.

The Sword as Biofeedback Device

A sword is a natural amplifier, which consistently and impartially reflects the mistakes of its user. If the swordsman’s grip and cut are incorrect, his sword may wobble, or even ring. When the position of his wrist is wrong by one inch, the tip of the blade may be wrong by one foot. If his body movement is slightly convoluted or imprecise, a good sword helps to make that obvious; with a tassel, even more so.

According to an old Chinese proverb, “A one-inch error at the start becomes a thousand-mile error by the end.” A sword can help prevent small errors from escaping its user’s attention, and thereby train the hand that holds it, and the mind which directs it.

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