Learning To Be Silent

By William Terrell

I have no romantic notions of what it means to be a warrior. I served in the United States Marine Corps and worked for ten years as a deputy sheriff. I have seen the dead and the dying, the deliberate and the accidental. I have seen people shot, cut, burned, beaten, strangled, crushed, even literally hammered to death. I understand how fast violence can erupt/interrupt into our everydayness and destroy our lives. My goal is simply that of any warrior/father/husband: to be prepared to protect and defend myself, my family, my community.

One of the ways I choose to do that is through Aikido. I enjoy Aikido because it is hard, because it forces me to change, because it forces me to face myself. My first Sensei was irascible and difficult but he gave me a solid foundation in some of the basics. His emphasis was on techniques for the world off the mat, especially the breaking and keeping of uke’s balance and in delivering solid strikes.

He believed (and rightly so) that Aikido is not a game nor is it a sport. Aikido is a matter of life and death. To treat it as anything less is a waste of time and an insult to the memory of O-Sensei. What we do on the mat is sacred. It is life writ small. It is tradition lived in the present. Aikido is the gift to us from O-Sensei and all those who taught him. His gift passed through Yamada Sensei to Dee Sensei to me. I am being forged as the next link in the chain.

Some critics dismiss Aikido as at best anachronistic and at worst a waste of time that instills a false sense of security in the practitioner. Would O-Sensei have developed and promoted Aikido if he did not believe it to be effective? Of course not. My answer to the critics is get on the mat and hang around long enough to understand what is going on. Feel the burn of nikkyo, the swirling confusion and abrupt reversal of irimi nage, the panic of koshi nage done full speed. Test yourself in randori. Find out how to react when facing multiple attackers. Learn that getting your lip busted or being thrown hard will not kill you. Understand the power of Aikido before passing judgment.

Accepting Aikido as a way of life has to be a choice. A choice repeated week after week, day after day. The mat is the battlefield upon which we overcome ourselves and it is in the persistence, the refusal to succumb to inertia that we are made strong. Week in and week out I get on the mat because I have to, because it satisfies a basic primal need and is a way to channel the warrior instincts. It is not just the mat, Aikido permeates my life. Even driving 100 miles round trip is in itself an act of entering, of being uke. Trying to perfect the process of resolving one conflict while looking/preparing for the next. It is in the knowing when to push and when to pull, when to enter and when to turn.

Am I absolutely prepared for anything life throws at me? Of course not.  Am I much better prepared? Indeed, I am.

For the group: What are your Aikido related New Years resolutions?  I’ll start.  MM and I have resolved to kick up our training a notch.  Every Friday, we plan to undergo a “mini” misogi training session–essentially, half a cleansing class.

That translates to 54 turns as uke, and 54 as nage, with no breaks until we switch roles.  The plan (hope?) is to gradually increase the number of throws until we hit 108 each.  Perhaps we’ll incorporate bokken.

By Carl Frederick

For as long as I can remember, I have been involved with the martial arts.  I connected with it, and like a musician to his instrument, I seemed to have a talent which I was able to tap into.  I remember my master in Tang Soo Do, very early on in my training, explaining to me the power of martial arts, and in particular Tang Soo Do.  He stated that what we are learning was meant for one thing, and one thing only: war.  The techniques we were learning were tried and true battlefield tactics, and were meant to kill.  But we don’t live in feudal Korea; we live in a world that prefers movie flash to real tactics.  The fact remained, however, that what we were learning was deadly, warlike, and chaotic. 

Today, martial arts are a form of self-defense, meant to be used only in the most dire of situations, and not to be taken lightly.  I am equally amazed and scared by the things that I know.  But something that I have realized in my time in Aikido, was that my Tang Soo Do master was right.  Everything I knew was chaotic.  My attacks caused injury and pain, and possibly even death.  Even my ability to block incoming attacks had a chaotic motive.  Like an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force, there was no harmony or balance in what I did.  It was simple: defend myself against an attacker, and never take a life unless no other option was feasible.  Even then, I should try to find a way.

This is what draws me to Aikido.  I have a choice whether or not to cause injury, pain or death.  In this sense, Aikido leaves you no choice, its intent is harmony and non-violence.  There is no chaos.  I also like it in the practical sense of my career–it would look bad for a police force to have a cop roundhouse kicking felons.  So I like the immobilizing, passive defensiveness of the art.  But also, it makes me realize that I don’t need to cause injury to defend myself.

Granted, I still like my “harder hitting” style.  And yes, any time there is a technique on the mat that seems more brutal, I get a gleam in my eye.  Although I don’t believe in the whole idea of “bringing uke back into harmony, and making them one with the world,” when a sociopath is willing to kill me so much as look at me, I still believe in the principle of non-violent solutions.

From Dee and Jerry…

A big thanks to everyone who helped make our Christmas party a success.  Good friends and good food–what more could you ask?

We’re keeping the dojo decorated through the holiday season, so if you’re quick, you can still find some cookies stashed near the Christmas tree.  I also understand Santa’s elves took some pictures, which we’ll publish in our December newsletter.

Merry Christmas!

I am plagued by 5th Kyu Shihans.

Or rather, was plagued, before receiving my yudansha. And like Dr. Bennell, I still see them, these pod people, everywhere, at seminars, at other dojo, and sometimes, close to home. They are a contagion.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Allow me to explain.

Several years ago, as a yukyusha with some experience, I noticed a peculiar pathology, which exhibited itself primarily at seminars. The subject, namely me, would pair with an obviously new student, one with whom I had not trained previously. The new student, or carrier, would then proceed to instruct, correct and otherwise comment on my technique, despite the obvious gulf in skill between us.

I naturally attributed this to an infection addling his brain, since no disinterested observer could mistake the more seasoned practitioner. And no matter the speed with which I performed the technique, or the pain which I applied to his body, the student would feel compelled to make his critique.

The disease, therefore, is marked by a complete and total lack of awareness.

I named the condition, or more accurately the infected carrier, a 5th Kyu Shihan. The name stuck, and is, I believe, a useful shorthand for describing the disease.

Making the Diagnosis

I have come to rely on a three part test to determine whether a student is, in fact, a 5th Kyu Shihan. Although satisfying any one condition is sufficient to make the diagnosis, it is insufficient to rule out other, more benign causes. For example, your partner may just be an idiot, for which, unfortunately, no cure exists.

First Symptom

Your partner compliments your technique. This one is tricky: I caution the practitioner here to rely on her own clinical experience. If the compliment carries with it a connotation of judgment, as opposed to aspiration, the student is a 5th Kyu Shihan.

Although it may appear a contradiction, a compliment, if accompanied by judgment, is in fact identical to criticism. Essentially, the student is placing herself in a position to judge another, more experienced student’s technique. Whether it is praise or criticism is irrelevant. The student has exhibited a sign of the disease.

Second Symptom

The student assumes a curious, if fictitious, familiarity with the leading lights in your organization. I call this infection by association. In truth, this is simply a form of the logical fallacy, argument from authority.

Here, the student professes an intimate knowledge of a leading sensei’s preferences regarding technique, or attempts to regale you with sly anectdotes from back in the day. Of course, considering that day could not have been more than two months prior, as Kung Fu Panda would have been his closest connection to the martial arts, is of no matter. The point our friend is trying to make, is that he, and not you, knows the hidden purpose behind this particular lesson. If only he were free to speak candidly, surely you would understand….

Third Symptom

A lack of humility. Let me be more specific. I am not referring to the fawning humility towards rank you sometimes see on the mat. This is a misunderstanding of the term, and has more in common with Dickens’ Uriah Heep, whose humility was in fact rooted in pride and ego. Nor am I referring to proper etiquette, or rei, which of course is expected when we give ourselves freely to our partners.

The humility I refer to, rather, is a great teacher, but one with which the 5th Kyu Shihan has no acquaintance. It is the knowledge that we know certain things, don’t know certain things, and crucially, know there are things that we know nothing about. This idea, that there exists whole categories of knowledge not yet dreamt of, is the essence of budo training. It is the quintessential empty cup.

It is also anathema to the 5th Kyu Shihan. Although when cornered, the infected carrier may admit to some questions regarding technique, the practioner must be vigilant. The 5th Kyu Shihan will only admit to questions that fit his Weltanschauung, or worldview. In his universe, everything is accounted for, including Aikido, which he has placed neatly on a mental shelf. The answers, if not obvious, are already there, waiting for just the right moment.

Of course, he is happy to answer any questions you may have.

An Advice To My Colleagues

Although pernicious, the disease is, in my estimation, not always terminal. With practice, the afflicted soul can sometimes cast off the infection and become a fully human, fully aware Aikidoka.

As always, our best defense is vigilance.