The Thoughtful Sensei-Aikido Musings

190. S.A.D.

Funny acronym that.  SAD. 

SAD, not the emotion (like an emo on the mat with black eyeliner) but instead whether that person on the mat is a Student, an Apprentice, or a Disciple.  Which are you?  More importantly, if you’re the Sensei, then what is that person on your mat (which S.A.D) to you, the smooth operation of the dojo, and the dojo’s future.

Being Sensei means many different things ranging from being a marketing expert and salesman, accountant, counselor, risk assessment manager, psychologist, and task master (just to name one or two).  However, it also means being an evaluator of a person’s potential for learning and how serious they are (and dedicated to) the learning process; or in other words, do they want to learn and will they strengthen the dojo and be an acceptable and positive influence.  This classification (of the person who just walked in the door) should come to bear in deciding how that person is viewed and taught the ryu/system.

Are they a student.  Do they come to class (mostly) and do they pay attention.  Do they train only during class times, or do they come early and stay late for extra work.  Do they have a long-term goal in mind for their martial arts study or appear to only be checking off the boxes on their punch list.

Are they an apprentice.  Do they come to class faithfully and pay attention to everything the Sensei says, does, and teaches; remembering that a Sensei is giving life lessons and strategies and not just or only teaching techniques but they only work toward achieving the requirements of the training without working to excel and grow beyond that.

Or are they a disciple.  Are they not just a student or a learner or apprentice, but a follower; one who applies what he has learned and works to continue the teachings.  Would you look at them and believe that they will someday teach and continue the work and preserve the ryu.

Important considerations when Sensei is having to ration time and focus where it will do the greatest good and avoid being sad at wasted effort.

L.F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

October 19, 2022

189. Samurai Chicken

Having been an athlete since grade school where I ran track as a sprinter before getting into playing competitive football through my high school years, I’ve been in weight rooms and gyms my entire life training before eventually moving into dojo and martial arts.  For me and others like me, staying in shape became an obsession literally decades ago which is why, at age 70 (well, if you count gestation like the Japanese it actually makes me 71) I can easily operate like someone 20 years my junior.

Part of that fitness obsession included a lot of research on what could be called “balanced training” such as nutrition, structuring training routines, and discipline (in their application).  That research covered Japanese concepts that eventually led to a tattoo; speaking to balance.  Ever since being inked, I’ve strived to remember the two mottos (here roughly paraphrased) which are; Ningen Keisei (become a complete human being) and Bun Bu Ryo Dou (living a life in balance).

This includes life in the gym, resistance training, working to stay flexible and limber and also includes the same ideas of “balance” in the dojo as I work through the material.

So today I’m in the gym trying to get back to (and stick with) a regular resistance training routine when I look up and in front of me is a guy preparing to run through sets of chest press using dumbbells.  When I do sets of chest press, my working weight is 40 to 45 pounds per dumb bell (or per hand).  He was working with dumb bells that were 70 pounds each and then he pyramided up to 100 pounds in ten-pound increments.  Impressive for someone who was not a pro football player (based on his size) or an obvious power lifter.

He completed the set and stood up from the bench and since he was wearing shorts, I saw them as he rose.  The legs.  The skinny, scrawny, undeveloped legs. The legs that looked like they had never done any lower body work such as free bar squats, or deadlifts.  His legs were smaller than most peoples’ arms.  It was an amazing moment of cognitive dissonance, this exhibit of upper body over-development and lower body neglect.

Times change as does street slang but when I first began hanging out at gyms and focusing on resistance training the nickname for this was “Bar Body”; someone who hyper-developed the chest, arms, and shoulders so-as to impress someone while buying them a drink.  That was the “kinder” term.  The other term, not quite as nice was “Chicken Man” or sometimes “Turkey Legs”; someone who had a large body (like a good size fryer) but who had the skinny leg bones of a bird.  I still remember once knowing a female co-worker who took one of these specimens’ home from a bar one night and couple of days later at the office, she got talkative and said “WTH …. That’s false advertising.  I was cheated”.  All I could do was laugh.

Martial arts and dojo have much the same issue with many deshi as they come up in rank.  They gain rank, improve ability, move forward in understanding, and one day look up and decide that so-and-so kata set is a little too difficult and uninteresting when compared to other kata (that are easier); much like Chicken Man decided somewhere along the way that chest and shoulders were easier than leg day so they’d do the easy and pass by the hard. 

I must admit that I don’t like legs either, much like many gym regulars who have broad and well-thought routines.  Legs are tough to enjoy but if you want a balanced physique then you simply must include a well-rounded leg routine and you must stick with it long term regardless of how difficult it may be to stay with or however slow progress may be.

Likewise, if you want to achieve well-rounded ability in your martial art then you must use a well-rounded routine for training; a little basics, some intermediate work, some advanced work, and maybe some research on the arcana such as the relationship between Buddhism and combative behavior so that you see the subtlety of some of the teachings.  You have to make a regular pass through all the material, even kata sets that may be confusing, difficult, tiring, or whatever because they broaden certain aspects of your study and at some point teach you how it all inter-connects.

We train in Aikido in the Tomiki Ryu which at it’s core is simply pre-WWII Ueshiba-ha Daito Ryu Aikibudo.  It’s an old koryu based system that is organized much like Kodokan Judo was; kihon (basics), bunkai (analysis and applications), and formal kata, with each kata designed for teaching principles and variations.

For example, in the Tomiki Ryu we have Koryu Dai Ichi (the 1^st kata) and Koryu Dai Ni (the 2^nd kata) both of which are directly related to and clearly illustrate Daito Ryu such that Ichi kata directly shows old school Daito Ryu as originally illustrated in the book Budo Renshu which documented Daito Ryu techniques.  These two kata have short and direct techniques that have a flow to them, running one into the other, but are very much self-defense oriented.

Koryu Dai San and Koryu Dai Roku (3^rd and 6^th kata) are very formally structured and presented to best illustrate the fundamental principles of the ryu including knife, sword, and stick ideas.  They are presented slowly and very precisely in order to best illustrate your understanding.

Koryu Dai Yon (4^th kata) has very large, circular, and flowing movements to show the circularity of certain patterns and also introduces, in a deliberate fashion, the idea of failure in which you apply a technique and it works but then you apply it again and it fails requiring you to respond with a kaeshi waza (counter).

Koryu Dai Go (5^th kata) has many of the same techniques as do Ichi and Ni to the point to where the last 5 of Ni and of Go are identical.  The primary difference is that in Go everything from the first suwari waza to the last striking technique is done at absolute full speed and very dynamically to pressure the defenders’ subconscious which must respond instantaneously; a true test of the intuitive processes in which should tori (defender) move too slowly or go into brain lock, uke is allowed to complete the attack and knock tori over.  It builds an understanding of pressure.

Each kata looks at and teaches different areas of the ryu.  Each kata is important for showing (and learning) all the variations in attack, with or without a weapon.  Each kata teaches variables in application of principles.  Each kata is, therefore, critical in learning and understanding the full scope of the ryu.  Leaving out a serious study of any of the kata (along with the kihon & bunkai sets) will result in an “unbalanced” Aikido player, much like the guy in the gym.

Without the full balance study, the Aikido player will have large “gaps” in their ability to intuitively recognize and respond correctly and appropriately to an attack; something permissible in the dojo where everyone are friends, but inadequate in the street where friendship is non-existent.  The lesson here to remember is that of balancing your training and not leaving out your legs.

L. F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

September 12, 2022

188. Strategies of Teaching

Strategy most normally involves setting goals and priorities and then determining actions to achieve the goals and using resources to execute the actions.  Having a strategy entails a description of how the goals will be achieved with the resources and in many minds is primarily thought of as being a military or governmental idea; large or global as it were.  Strategy may also be applied to smaller venues, such as succession at a dojo or kai (martial arts school or martial organization).

A Samurai saying was that there are three kinds of people.  The first is the person (deshi) who understands the purpose of his teacher’s teachings and functions well within that limited scope.  However, he does not have many original or creative teaching ideas of his own and does not practice much. He can become a teacher of students but not a true leader or master of the art.

The second type of person is the one who, besides what he learns from his teacher, adds his own ideas of effectiveness into his skill sets and randori ability.  He practices long and hard to both improve those skills and his ability to communicate (and teach) those skills.  He is the deshi who excels and if put on a battlefield will likely as not prevail most of the time.

The third type of person is the one who does not learn all his teacher’s techniques nor absorb his knowledge but understands the ones he does learn.  He can become competent on the battlefield and in randori but is rarely able to grow beyond whatever direct lessons he has been taught.  Some would refer to him as being a “book person”; if it’s not in the book then does it exist.

The Samurai strategist who proposed these categories of students or deshi was referring in the larger sense to warfare on a larger scale but these may also be applied to the smaller universe of the dojo. 

The Sensei or Dojo Cho (dojo manager) needs the ability to do a couple of things here.  First, be able to identify which up and coming Yudansha fit into which category; and second, be a guide.  The Sensei must be able to teach, guide, and work with all three categories.  A dojo does not need only the second type of person who excels at everything at the potential expense of the other two.  A Sensei should be able to work with all three and assist each of those in improving, growing in understanding and ability, and becoming a real leader; his replacement as-it were and in so becoming, a testimony to the ideals of teaching.

L. F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

May 11, 2022

187. Elitist

Hello, I am a Sensei …. and I'm an elitist.  So are you and we both should act like it.

What?  Why?  Huh?  Isn’t that term “unpopular” these days, having a bit of a bad connotation? 

Why would I want to be “one of those”.

Well, think about this for a moment.  In the US the estimate is that there are only 100,000 Judo players in a country with 330 million people.  However, those estimates also indicate that only about 25,000 of those are registered with either the USJA, USJF, or USA Judo.  Since most Judo clubs are competitive or give rank (and not just a group that trains for fun and never ranks within Judo organizations or that competes) then that 100,000 could largely be overstated (or the majority of those players inactive) since registering to fight in a tournament or compete in kata generally requires registered rank (and membership in a organization) for a sanctioned event; not to mention that if you are promoted you’d probably like for it to be recognized and have a certificate to hang on your wall.

In Canada according to one report, there are no more than maybe 1,000 players for kendo, iaido, and jodo/jojutsu combined in a country of 38 million.  The information has it that if you look at koryu jojutsu alone then it might be as few as 100 or so and I would expect that in the US, koryu art forms would be about the same.

A simple web search shows that worldwide there are approximately 1 million Kodokan Judo players in 130 different countries/regions.  That calculates out to about 7,700 per region (understanding that some regions are very small such as comparing Luxembourg to the US) so those numbers are variable.

So basically, those people who train in martial arts whether competitive or koryu, are an elite.  There just aren’t many of them and they are training in a field of knowledge that is extensive, deep, ancient, and difficult to stay focused on and to make real progress in.  That's an elite group of people and we ought to acknowledge it and act like it. 

This acknowledgement however, means something different than what you might think when you normally hear the term.  Think about some examples of what have you been conditioned (by society) to viscerally think when you hear the word "elite".  A fraternity or sorority that is highly exclusive in picking their members to the point of looking at the brand name in the collar of your shirt.  A social group that's difficult (very) to get into with an application process that has so many hurdles that you seemingly have to be born into it as a legacy.  Or the governmental and financial elite that you can’t join unless your parents are professional politicians, and your family has money that goes back to before the American revolution.

Even small towns have a group of elites such as the one I came from where the farmers and ranchers owned all the land having been there for the last couple of centuries and that was before including the professionals (pharmacist, doctor, dentist, attorney) who had large incomes and who all socialized together, hung out at the country club, and wrote the big checks to the church.  Their kids were “special” and no matter what your accomplishments in school or athletics were, you were never really accepted into their group.

In the case of martial arts, we’re only talking about a few thousand or tens of thousands out of hundreds of millions (or billions if you consider the population of the planet).  So, if martial artists don’t hang out at the country club, then what do they do?

Well for one, they work with each other in training, learning, and preserving physical (and philosophical) knowledge that can be centuries old.  They look out for each other, teach each other, learn from each other, and while doing so pledge to “pay it forward”.  So, should we refer to ourselves as “Bushido Elites”?  And if so, what makes us different?

Bushido Elites give each other a hand up, work with each other, and willingly and eagerly share the knowledge with those who wish to learn. 

What do Bushido Elites not do?  They don't pick and choose and exclude as they wish, they don't say show me your membership card in the Daughters of the American Revolution, or where is your fathers balance sheet, or your sheep skin from the exclusive universities in an “approved” profession.  Advertising, enrolling, teaching, guiding, making it easy to participate, welcoming new students into the fold (if they want to learn and grow). 

That is exactly the opposite of what the elites do, which is to make it difficult to find, apply to, and join.  They are secretive in how the process of application and maintaining membership works and in general are being exclusionary, having unwritten rules of membership. 

The Bushido Elite on the other hand simply means there are few of you and so you must work hard to not allow it to disappear; even if that translates to committing to more personal time than originally thought to teach and run the dojo and putting in personal funds to maintain the group.  You are welcome if you do the work and wash your gi on a regular basis.

Differentiating between true Bushido/Budo and role-playing becomes more and more difficult and popular culture has warped the view of martial arts to the point to which things such as “Sport Karate” has taken over and many other martial arts (should I be saying “former martial arts”) are nothing more than performance art that no longer contains the martial spirit or the philosophical underpinnings that gave it intrinsic value.

For all of this, I now always make mention (when discussing training or speaking to prospective students) that what we do indeed “is” an elite activity and will set them apart from others.  For those who are truly interested, it becomes the closing argument in their decision to improve their body, mind and spirit and become more than what they are.

L.F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

May 3, 2022

186. I Need Me Sum' Monjin

Beginners.  Monjin waiting at the gate.

While every dojo needs and wants them, they do have side effects such as slowing down the class, and making you repeat the same thing repeatedly (and redundantly).  Not learning fast enough (or at least it seems that way to the more advanced deshi).  Unable to work more advanced material.  The complaints go on.

However, once you slow down and cool your jets (as some would put it) you suddenly realize that monjin who are now deshi (are inside the dojo) can serve a higher purpose.  Having beginners in class allows the deshi who have been there a while to suddenly realize just how much they know; how much they really do know.  Once that realization occurs, the more experienced players stop ranting (verbally or non-verbally) over the idea that they aren't learning anything (or learning fast enough) when they see how advanced they are when compared to the new players.

Beginners delay the flow into intermediate and advanced level material.  This is nothing more than one of the realities of teaching but when looked at in the broader sense it is not necessarily a negative.  Too many times going fast turns into a failure to break down what the waza calls for (at a deeper level) and then to adequately explain it (they call that “auto-pilot”).  Then you the Sensei begin to not correct mistakes or errors in the basics such as kamae, sen or ma-ai.

Teaching, guiding, creating “good learning” environments means taking the time to carefully observe, analyze, and then give commentary that should result in improvement; this, remembering that improving the basic fundamentals (you know, the “beginner stuff”) really is advanced work.

Sensei should break the material down into digestible bits sized by the ability of the group to grasp, and then proceed to explain the lessons inherent within the kata.  That becomes difficult too impossible if you just repeat the waza (or a larger kata set) at speed as if everyone already knew everything you do.  Beginners ask questions (sometimes a frustrating number of them ….. repeatedly) but by doing so they create thoughts of why take this action or posture instead of that one and in another sense, create the need to find an explanation that will be at the level of the deshi’s ability and easy(er) to understand.  By doing so, the questions should cease, at least on that topic until understanding deepens (again) and then the questions start all over but on more intense levels.

L.F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

April 18, 2022

185. The Boy Shows Promise

OMG.  Sensei chewed me out and tore me a new a______.  Why did he do that?  I’ve been a good boy.  What was that for?  Haven’t I bowed enough, or low enough?  I pay my dojo fees on time.  I wash and you can’t call me “stinky gi”.

I have been in martial arts for the last 50 years, ever since I was a senior in high school so I can honestly say that there isn’t much I haven’t seen, haven’t had done or said to me, or haven’t experienced.  I’ve learned over the years that training in martial arts, serious and true martial arts that is and not swarmy commercialized schlock, is much more involved than simply going to class, sporting around in your new gi, strutting for the junior ranks, blowing kisses at the girls, and doing a few punches or throws.

Serious training such what as the term “keiko” (deep thought and consideration being put into a training session to better understand both the surface of the lesson and the lesson not seen) actually implies is a series of “life lessons” possibly given over years or decades and that are intended to teach you (or lead you, or shove you) into becoming a better mannered, more thoughtful, more considered, more elegant person exhibiting shibumi (effortless perfection) in any professional, social or martial situation (and that’s putting it mildly).

I started in Tae Kwon Do as a strong and conditioned athlete (after four or five years of high school football, track, and weight training) and the idea of learning aggression (or more aggression in my case) was simply a part of the lessons.  When I started in Judo and Aikido I was taken by my Sensei to a weekend lesson and promotion with the man who was the head of the ryu.  We did some randori Aikido style one-on-one and I was stymied.  He had me so wrapped up I couldn’t do anything.  When you are totally under the control of your opponent your brain goes berserk but no matter how fast or slow I went, he simply dominated me while as he sang bad German opera.  It must have shown on my face because he suddenly backed away and said, “I think you should go sit down.  You look like you don’t feel very good”.  I considered that to be a personal put down and when we got back home I made some comments and suddenly my Sensei looked at me and said, “You better watch what you say.  You’re getting too big for your britches”.

I had to way step back and look at those two sets of comments; both of which made me realize that one, I wasn’t nearly as good at anything as I thought I was and two, I basically didn’t know what I was talking about.  It was likely the first time as an adult fresh out of university that I had been spoken to like I was eight years old.

So thankfully, no matter how chagrined (or downright embarrassed I felt) I took both as lessons and got down to a serious but humble study of how the head of the ryu so easily handled me, and I basically stopped “mouthing off”.  Thus began my 50-year martial arts journey and a new understanding of how to engage in serious learning while working to temper my ego and learn some humility.

Along the way there were other “learning moments” of note.

Like the night the head of the ryu (I was living in Houston at the time and training at his dojo consistently) and he was taking supplies into the dojo so I said, “Want some help?” which implied that I could give it if he asked (basically requiring him to beg me to assist him) instead of just walking over and pitching in.  He told me what I had said or implied (really) and rudely suggested that I figure it out (as his lecture on manners continued as we carried things back and forth).  Having learned, these days I just say I’ll help and then I pitch in, and I have found that the spontaneous effort on my part results in positives from the other person.

Then there was the time he and my wife and I went to dinner after class one night. I ordered a beer and when it came, I immediately drank out of the glass.  His reply to me was, “That’s my beer” (even though I had ordered it).  So after a few minutes of his firm lecturing (well actually butt chewing) on the proper order of formal manners in front of your Sensei, I figured out that the senior person goes first and then everyone else down the line in order.  If you are the most junior then you go last (and in Japan you also get the worst bottle of sake while the seniors get the best, you must earn it you see).  This was a lesson well taken and in the years that followed I used it in formal business and social settings and found that it was not only expected in the dojo, but in polite society and including politics as I later found.  Until that moment I had just not realized the importance of acknowledging the privileges that come with age, seniority, and life accomplishment and how it applies even to who has the first sip of the cocktail.

Then there was the night that my wife and I were directed to take a Japanese Sensei to dinner before she returned to Japan.  The drink came (I went last on the sipping of the alcohol) so that went well.  Then the food came, and we all started (again let her go first) so far so good.  Then I picked up my bowl of rice and the chopsticks and held the bowl up to my mouth and started scooping it in.  We had just finished a very long day of training and filming, my belly button was rubbing on my spine, and I was just starving so I acted on my primal instinct of hunger instead of disciplining myself about what to properly do in a social setting with a very senior personage. 

I have never seen such a look on someone’s face.  A look of disgust mixed with anger.  She could speak English as well as Japanese (along with a couple of Chinese dialects) so the facial expressions were in about three cultures along with the tone of her voice.  I then proceeded to remain silent with my head bowed as the Japanese Sensei told me very directly how bad my table manners were, and that I was to fix them immediately.  I was humiliated as all this was in front of my wife and the people sitting at the table next to us; and understand, I was a 7^th Dan so my rank at that point in my career was not that of a beginner.  I later realized that she was more disgusted that at my rank I had bad table manners than she would have been if I had been a white belt.

If anyone ever tells you that Japanese Sensei are so gentle and so elegant and so nice to work with and would never comment on your table manners, then don’t you believe them.  They will chew on you like a dog setting onto a bone as I can personally attest.  The net result was that I went back to square one, did some research, and taught myself as best I could what proper table manners are when having supper with a Sensei who is descended from a Samurai family.  I haven’t (nor will I ever) make the same mistake again if I can help it.

The other “lesson in manners” aka “getting spanked” that to this day still sticks with me was the time the Consul General of Japan was training at the dojo.  Since I was a senior rank I always bowed on and off the mat up front with the other seniors.  I was to the junior side of the Consul General and when the rei came I bowed in his direction too slow and too high and I came up before he did.  He was very angry and obviously thought that I had insulted him since he held junior Aikido rank to me but senior Judo, social, and ambassadorial rank.  I was disturbed because I had no idea how to correct it.  Sensei came to my rescue by having me work with the Consul General all class long and very patiently teaching him Aikido randori principles. 

At the end of class as we lined up to bow off the Consul General grabbed me and put me in the line in a position of seniority to him.  I immediately bowed, said “Sumimasen” and got back in my junior position.  He immediately grabbed me a second time and put me in line senior to him.  Sensei looked at me and said, “If he wants you to stand senior to him then do so.”  We bowed out and he bowed to me again, shook my hand and said thank you very much for the lesson.  All I could think was “Wow.  It only took me two hours to fix a problem that I had no idea how I initially walked into”.

At some point I finally had the chance to ask an older friend and martial artist what all the butt chewing was about for things that initially I didn’t see a problem with or fully understood or just did by accident.  There were plenty of other people that I never saw get crossways with Sensei who occasionally committed social faux pas that even I thought were on the edge.  I got an answer that at the time I didn’t really anticipate.  That was, “Obviously they think you hold promise”.

I had to think about that one as we talked and gradually came to realize that the goof balls who would likely never be promoted to high rank or become a teacher were looked at by Sensei and other very senior ranks as essentially being a lost cause.  They just didn’t have the long-term commitment or discipline to really dig into the ryu and the learning that came with it and therefore Sensei paid attention only to those he felt could learn and move forward.  Basically, if you were viewed as having potential and stepped out of line you were “gifted” the lesson.  If you were viewed as being “not serious” or just a tourist passing through the dojo then you were not a beneficiary and ignored.

Those lessons that were sculpted and designed to “wake you up from your slumber” or “shock you into a higher level of awareness” were intended to prepare you for interactions with potentially very senior ranks some day; those ranks being in the dojo and on the mat or in business and social settings.  They were also very direct lessons in perspective such as where you stand in relation to people and events that surround you.

Over the last few decades I have observed players, some very senior in rank, be the recipient of one of those “lessons”.  Unfortunately, instead of swallowing their pride and accepting the lesson for what it was (a blunt and unpleasant criticism of their personal actions and attitudes, an attempt to “wake them up” as it were) their ego got in the way and in several cases that person quit thus largely ending (or severely truncating) their martial arts careers.  A loss by any estimation.  Sometimes we all just need to step back and look for a bigger picture by engaging in some self-evaluation and regain our perspective.

L.F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

April 18, 2022

184. Aikido Draws Them All

Aikido seems to have an undefined something that initially attracts people of all sorts, backgrounds, and desires.  These potential Aikido players can include everything from people from other martial arts looking for something with no competitive venues (and a lesser chance of injury), older folks who are tired of shiai or kumite and looking for something less physically challenging but more intellectually intriguing, Aiki-Bunnies looking to hang with the big kids, those looking to engage in an activity that will allow them to self-validate whatever needs to be self-validated, to people who have watched one movie too many based on video games and are looking for fantasy/role-play (“Ooo, can I hold the big bokken?”).  While that undefined “something” may initially attract them, whether they stay once they realize that they must do the work is entirely another matter.

There are a million (well, maybe not literally) reasons as to why someone looks to Aikido to answer questions that maybe they still don’t know they have but that apparently need answers.  To many, Aikido is paradoxical in the way keiko (intense considered practice) is carried out.  Training consists of changing sides; at one moment the Aikido student is the attacker and the next the defender.  Many players look at this as being part of the mystery embedded within the art form since the training partner is more than simply being attacker (or defender) and who represents a critically important part of the training on various levels (personal, technical, physical, emotional, spiritual).

When looked at from the technical aspect, Aikido in many minds has restrictive limitations.  It is not a sogo bujutsu or full martial school encompassing everything from sword, knife, spear, naginata, swimming, archery, etc. but instead is limited to an in-depth study of hand-to-hand with a limited curriculum in the basics of tanto defense, wooden sword and bo work. 

The weapons work normally found in any style of Aikido is more designed to illustrate the relationship of the weapon to Aiki-based principles and is not necessarily designed to teach a fully functional weapons system.  Training (and comprehension) therefore is focused within a template (of Aikido study) with defined borders which limits the overall reach of Aikido, unless a formally structured and complete weapons system is included as an adjunct study.

When considered in broader terms even though Aikido is limited it forces people into a structured template of movement(s) that are necessary for the Aikido player to stay within so-as to learn the system.  Almost by definition this makes it an art form since the skill is created within a frame, much as oil painting uses colors, music uses tones, and sculpture uses rocks.  Within the boundaries of the material at-hand (colors, tones, rocks) creativity becomes possible and is no long “paint by the numbers”.  The Aikido player must however, work to understand how to exceed those arbitrary boundaries.

Aikido also contains (in addition to the physical) a psychological challenge in that one is working for conflict resolution while practicing throwing people down or locking them in painful geometric designs (some call this “folding the gi with you in it”) so it is not black and white but instead variable, within the set framework or template; this being another reason behind it being considered an art form.

Conflict resolution is a term often heard in Aikido circles but in my view, it is not the more traditional “Kumbaya, lets all get along” moment.  Instead, many long-term serious practitioners of Aikido view that idea as being extremely broad in the reality outside the dojo, and not necessarily limited to world peace. 

Yes, let’s all “get along” but conflict resolution can also mean aggressively stopping any attack be it verbal, emotional, or physical by whatever means necessary.  This would fall outside the idea of the “framework” or “template” limitation.  Since no random attack is exactly like what the art form teaches within the system (instead being a randomized event based upon previously undefined parameters and catalysts to which the Aikido player must spontaneously react).  That reaction therefore will be in the realm of an “art” based in the moment and is likely outside the strictures of the kata or frameworks set for the practice and learning (of Aikido).

Aikido offers experiencing something clean in today’s world of confusing borders; that is, learning to operate beyond (transcending has become much too trite a term) the practice of relationships that contain opposites such as insecurity/confidence, aggression/peace, taking/giving, and metaphorically, at least, cuts a line right through the barriers that delineate the opposing concepts.  Once those borders and barriers are breached and understood, navigating seemingly contradictory ideas becomes easy and may be considered one of the hallmarks of true Aikido keiko.

L.F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

March 30, 2022

183. My Eidetic Works Pretty Good, How's Yours

One of my senior Yudansha has a thought about how people learn; one that I’ve always liked and agreed with that has to do with how a newborn zebra patterns his behavior (and who his mother is) after the first set of adult zebra stripes he sees, with no two zebras having exactly the same pattern.  Another way to look at it (but with a different species) is when a baby duck comes out of its shell the first motion it sees “becomes” its mother; demonstrated by a science experiment in which a human squatted and waddled around while quacking and the nest full of new baby ducklings begin to follow him around.  The baby zebra and the baby ducks are both genetically programmed to pattern (imprint) after the first thing they see; a basic genetically encoded survival skill that makes them follow the adult for food and protection.  This is eidetic memory, or the ability to vividly recall someone seen possible only once.

Humans can gain knowledge (translates into learning new skills) through watching an experienced person perform a physical or communications skill, or even simply being near that person and watching how their body language reflects their interpersonal communnications. Their way and method of doing things, and even their knowledge, can be passed on to someone else, especially if the learner really wants to understand it (or literally “get it” dynamically, something Heinlein called “grok”).  The student observer is looking for practical and experiential knowledge that in the Japanese martial arts is sometimes referred to as “direct transmission” or doing something and looking (patterning) exactly like the teacher regardless of whether real understanding (of the model’s actions) has been achieved yet.

In Western cultures this learning method may also be referred to as “mentoring” which causes people to seek out, surround themselves with, and strive to spend their time with respected or powerful figures, even emulating them down to matters of detail such as copying comments made in conversations (“Ah yes but of course, my lineage is from the Smiths of the London Smiths Parkway, an upscale gentrified trailer park just south of town”), way of dress (“Hmmm, preppy or morning coat and tails, decisions decisions), table manners (“Ok, where is the salt cellar …. dammit … there is supposed to be salt cellar with that cute little spoon”), and even the preferred cocktail at business gatherings (“Dude …. I really hate gin …. is there any bourbon around here I could work on”)?

This method of learning is probably known (or suspected) by everyone since we started (as small toddlers) by patterning our parents and siblings; learning by copying until the copying becomes who we are, with later learning done more deliberately and methodically as we mature and set our own path in life.  Unfortunately, as we grow older and begin that self-programming of our own path, we can sometimes skew sideways and lose sight of the goal.  Thus, the need to look for the better example, or mentor.

"Mitori Keiko" means learning from other people’s practice.  It also implies that practice through watching may be just as important as the actual practicing itself.  As you carefully observe other people’s movements you realize how you can improve your own movements.

The more normally seen Western oriented methods of logical and scholastic learning, when employed by themselves or as a matter of habit acquired from grade school, interrupt this way of study.  This is one idea behind the phrase ‘learn how to learn’ that we hear many times that people repeat but never really follow through on.  It is commonly heard by students’ of ancient traditional schools but especially in dojo that have a higher focus on learning by transmission.

Part of this is the Decay Theory; a theory that proposes that memory fades due to the passage of time. Information is therefore less available for later retrieval as time passes and memory, as well as memory strength, wears away. When an individual learns something new, a neurochemical "memory trace" is created.  In many ways a continual use of mitori keiko helps avoid decay and improves long-term retention and these memory traces are reinforced.  This has been illustrated by Olympic athletes mentally imaging how they will compete to the point to where the muscles themselves react to the mental imaging.  So how to utilize mitori keiko.

First, you can notice positive points of other player’s practice.  If you are a regular member of a dojo, there should be other members who practice together on a regular basis.  Regardless of the martial art being practiced every keiko is different person to person so this should provide the opportunity to see (and compare) positive points of practice that different deshi may have.  These can include footwork, favorite waza (esp. during randori sessions), posture and so on. Through noticing these different positive points, you will be able to garner ideas from these other players, and by copying improve your own practice.

Second, you should also be aware of negative points. Every deshi has both strong and weak points in their practice.  This unevenness in their overall performance should be apparent enough from the outset for you to be aware of it unless you yourself are a total beginner.  You should become aware of any negative points remembering that unless you are the Sensei giving advice on how to correct that deshi’s negative points is not part of mitori keiko.  You are learning and not teaching.  In a sense however, you are teaching yourself and while observing should be internally questioning yourself with, “Am I doing the same movements?  Do I walk like that?  Do I have that stutter step in my initial attacks?  Do I ever break my posture forward like that?”  Conducting this private internal dialogue with yourself is a part and parcel of mitori keiko.

Lastly, mitori keiko enables you to use practice time efficiently since you should not be doing it during your actual physical practice but instead, during your break or down time.  Basically you should have no “real” downtime while in the dojo since you are either in the fray or are actively watching and evaluating.

Mitori keiko can be a great positive if used as an internal dialogue with yourself.  Over a long period of time a senior player can notice a difference in the overall development of deshi who engage in mitori keiko and who use it for self-improvement.

L.F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

February 27, 2022

182. I Wanna’ Be 85th Galactic Dan

The world turns, times change, nothing stays the same, 2 steps forward and 3 steps back, and turn in circles.  Sometimes change is not progress and certainly not for the better.

Lately I’ve been noticing blogs by other Sensei and dojo about a decrease in promotional standards aggravated by an increase in big-time promotions, so this must be the new thingie’ in Budo-politics, a new fad maybe, all trendy and such, kinda’ like hair styles.  However, I can sadly tell you is that it’s actually nothing new and has been around for a while, decades maybe if not longer; certainly as long as I’ve been around.

With that said and as jaded as I am sometimes even I can be surprised by a blog such as the one I read recently which said that a high rank went inactive from his organization for a time and when he came back to re-start training they apparently said, “Buddy, friend, hey guy, alright-alright, welcome back, good to have you ……. but we’re dropping your re-entry rank by a few so even though you still know the material we’re just going to punish you for …… whatever.  Just look at it as character building as you learn that humility we keep talking about to the white belts.”

I’ve been around on the mat for about 50 years now and that was the first time I’d heard that one for a couple of reasons.  First, I wouldn’t be surprised by a bill for the missed time in not paying membership fees (but this was way beyond that) and second, why did the guy accept being busted in rank?  Neither I nor most of the people I know would take that from anyone as it is an insulting slap in the face and clearly shows that the organizations standards weren’t that quality-based to begin with.  And third, the last time I heard of anything like that was when someone was required to resign (read: forced out involuntarily, hit the highway buddy, get lost).  In that case he was not allowed to rejoin and not only his membership, but all his rank was effectively cancelled, the demand was made to return all his certificates and scrolls, which of course made him a true ronin in the classic sense.

What do you say to a group in any martial art that basically promotes (or “un-promotes”) based on whether you take a hiatus from training?  Doesn’t that mean that they don’t actually have standards at all and instead promote based on who you are, or how much money you pay, or who’s in charge this week, or did you do something they didn’t like such as asking out the Sensei’s best girl on a date?  After all, you knew the material when you were originally promoted to “whatever dan” so did you somehow forget everything since then as if you never knew it to begin with?  And if so, then why were you promoted back then, thus necessitating the downgrade today?

What I’ve normally seen in the ‘verse of entropic budo (as the classical traditions are lost) was how my old organization handled it; both the initial high requirements for promotion and then the degradation of standards that came later.  When I first joined as a “nothing belt” I was given a list of promotional requirements which included both the required time in grade (actively training mind you and not just holding up the wall) and the technical standards to be performed.  One of those was that to make Yondan I had to know all the kata including basic, intermediate, and advanced.  When I say all then I mean all.  I had to literally know the entire system including all the Koryu work, and all rank beyond that was based upon increasing levels of ability, deepening understanding of life, the universe, and everything, along with teaching experience. 

I guess one could call that “Dynamic Promotional Performance”, or in other words you already know the technical requirements of the entire ryu but now you must demonstrate increasing levels of expertise every time you step on the mat to do an embu or teach a lesson and, do it consistently at that high level over a very long period of time.  This standard was almost like judging in gymnastics where they score on both your historical performance and your putting on a good show today in order to prove that you’re not simply a flash in the pan; that long term consistency proving up your comprehension and deep understanding and ability in the fundamentals.

At some point in the entropy of the universe (and the standards of my old organization that I eventually resigned from) all that changed.  People began to be promoted by what member dojo they came from, who their Sensei was, how long they had been practicing (or not practicing at all) and whether the Kaicho (head of the organization) liked them. 

Money came into play as I was told by one of my deshi (students) of his friend in another state (also in my old organization) who had stopped training 2 or 3 years back but was told it was now time for him to be promoted to the next higher rank for the small but tidy sum of several hundred dollars.  Obviously, the promotion was based on “time hanging around” and writing that check (damn, if only I had known that good handwriting would get me there faster I would have spent more time practicing my cursive).  As a friend and fellow Sensei I currently know and train with described it, “He (the Kaicho) became a merchant and forgot he was Samurai class”.  Money just corrupts so many things and needing to make a car payment is not a good excuse.

The other issue that arose and that played a part in my eventual resignation was the day that a 6^th dan in a karate school applied for membership in the organization.  He was immediately promoted to 6^th dan in Aikido under the guise of “Anyone who reaches 6^th dan in any martial art is also 6^th dan in Aikido because the principles of all martial arts are the same across the board”. 

No mention made of actually “knowing” the kata or the technical standards came into this transaction or that some karate principles may differ from some Aikido principles, only that he (karate Sensei) had multiple dojo in his business model with a few dozen students and that my Aikido Sensei could enroll all the karate students in his organization and promote them.  Can you smile and say, “Lots of membership and promotional fees to take care of?"  Well …… I thought you could.

The moral here is that as organizations and their management age, things can change and at some point, you may have to decide.  In my case I had already reached 7^th dan before the creeping degradation of standards and of reaching for the Yen (and the dollar) became too outrageous.  Younger players, not knowing what I had witnessed over my 25 or so years with that organization stayed and, in some cases, they were promoted on actual knowledge and ability since they were honestly committed to the study.  Others rose in rank to ridiculously high dan levels with no real or true ability shown with the resultant underlying conflict between the two groups raring it’s ugly head on occasion.

So if you decide at some point to reach for 85^th Galactic Dan (and get your lifetime membership in the “Obi of the Month Club”) then now you know how to do it.  Just go look for that “special” Budo organization and be sure that you have your checkbook sticking out of your shirt pocket so that they can see it when you walk in the door.  However, don’t expect the rest of us to do anything but bust you down in rank if you want to join a real Budo organization and we happen to be sitting in the admissions office.  After all, there are more legitimate rationales for “de-promoting” someone other than simply taking a vacation.

L.F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

December 15,2021

181. Gestaltic Drift

The idea that by learning any martial art and eventually reaching senior rank somehow enables the Bushi to simply ignore the specific how’s and why’s of what they learned and how they now train is an error in thought caused by an over-familiarity with some or most of the ryu’s curriculum (but not all).  In other words, they know part of the total system very well indeed, part of the system a little bit, and the rest …. well ….. somewhere between not at all and “I did it one time 5 years ago”.

Assuming that someone is properly taught and can therefore hew to the correct pure line of principal to begin with, and additionally has put in the necessary time working the material to understand, internalize, and make it functional under pressure fails to consider several things. 

First, the system is a gestalt in the sense of how it is put together.  You cannot understand “just one part” and then assume that you understand it all.  In gestalt, the whole is greater than the sum of the parts and that “whole” is really on a geometric progression (as compared to the sum of its parts) and is not simply a linear expression of understanding.

A gestalt has two or more parts that are so integrated together and crucial to the other parts in that joining together that we perceive them as one object.  Think of the idea of teaching "the whole child," and you have a basic understanding of the ideas behind gestalt based on the perception of oneness from many.  So, in martial arts understanding only part of a total ryu leaves a gap in understanding that leads to not understanding the parts well at all nor how they fit together, much less having an intuitive understanding of the totality of the whole.

Second, that the increased understanding of “some parts” won’t eventually result in that player doing things slightly differently based on that more limited understanding (of some parts) For example, that different body types will end up making the same waza look “slightly” different from someone else with the same time on the mat and the same rank, when if both players had the same level of “gestaltic understanding” then the differences in appearance should be minimal with each illustrating the same fundamental principles in their performance regardless of their body types.  Each has flaws but neither understands that they do, nor are they able to adequately identify those flaws, much less correct them; thus the confusion in their students from their incoherent and disconnected teachings.

There is a third possibility here and that is full understanding was never achieved in the first place and that the Bushi is making small errors and fails to realize that they have deviated from the “pure line” of that waza, but even their limited understanding is better than the abilities of the opponent such that they are bad, but the other guy is worse.

They do not realize that this deviation exists because they operate at such a high level that they can make the waza work despite any “technical” errors in the “pure form”.  Another way in which to consider this is to think of the “pure form” as 100% efficiency (a full expression of pure principles) and their actual performance is maybe at 60% to 80% of that “pure line”.  However, the opponent is simply unable to themselves operate and anything over 50%.  Basically, the player can make errors, but they are so good (and the opponent so bad) that those errors do not matter in the least.

So that success basically results in a self-validation of that deviation from the 100% pure line.  That validation, since it is not apparent due to their success against a much weaker player, is therefore not corrected and continues to be reflected in how they teach and train.

However, as true Bushi we should always strive for that mystical 100% even if no one is ever able to train and operate at that level of “purity” and efficiency on a consistent basis.  To do otherwise is to fail in our efforts towards mastery and will forever stunt our growth in the ryu/art form.  Acceptance of the idea of being less than what could be possible (operating at 100% of the principle true line) will not only limit our ability to perform, but it also limits our ability to teach and over time will result in the loss of the ryu itself as over several generations it becomes a shadow of what it once was.  Once lost it cannot be regained as the number of senior Sensei who are able to express, operate, and teach at that 100% level diminishes over time thus removing any sources of deeper understanding and corrections.

L. F. Wilkinson Kancho

The Aikibudokan

Houston, TX

December 14, 2021