An Aikido Journey: Part 5 by Peter Goldsbury
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Taking Stock
My resumption of aikido practice from 1975 onwards was preceded by a
period of convalescence and interspersed with periods in
hospital. Nevertheless, I was able to practice quite regularly and
when I moved up to London, I became a member of the Ryushinkan
Dojo. Like the Budokwai, where I also trained periodically before
going to the United States, the dojo in Albany Street was a famous
judo dojo, with aikido practiced on the upper floor of the
building. However, there was no contact between the two arts and
certainly no cross-training. A few of us, however, very occasionally
used the weights in the judo dojo, but only 'unofficially' and on our
own. There has been much discussion in aikido Internet discussion
forums about cross-training, as if aikido training itself was
insufficient and needed to be supplemented by training in other
martial arts. Later in this article, I mention inviting senseis of
other martial arts to visit the dojo and teach specific items, such as
how to kick and punch properly. I do not regard this as
cross-training. For me, cross-training is systematic training in other
martial arts, in order to compensate for perceived structural
deficiencies in aikido. When I trrained in Ryushinkan, we never
conceived that aikido could be structurally deficient as a budo.
I had been practicing aikido for around six years and had reached the
level of 1st kyu. I had acquired a 'mental map' of the basic waza of
aikido, the central core of which was 1-kyo - 5-kyo and the four nage
waza of shiho nage, irimi nage, kote gaeshi and kaiten nage, all
practiced to varying degrees from the stereotyped attacks of shomen
and yokomen strikes, punches known as tsuki and various grasps to the
wrists/arms done from the front or behind. All these waza were
practised as tachi-waza or zagi (suwari-waza), or the halfway stage
known as hanmi-handachi. Away from the central core and closer to the
periphery were various nage waza all lumped together as kokyu-nage,
several examples of koshi nage, and more unusual pins like the one to
the elbow called by Kanai Sensei 6-kyo.
Underlying this repertoire of techniques were more shadowy entities
known as 'aikido principles', but my grasp of these was equally
shadowy. One major principle was that the technique had to 'work',
whatever this meant. My first teacher interpreted this to mean that
'your attacker is the one who goes down to the ground, not you. The
attacker is defeated, not the other way round.' Moreover, the
importance of atemi, done for various purposes, was stressed as an
essential part of the operation right from the beginning. Later, a
gloss was added to the effect that the technique had to work against a
larger, stronger and unwilling opponent. The third of these-that the
technique had to work, even if the opponent was unwilling to be thrown
or pinned-proved to be very problematic.
Another principle was that the attack had to be 'real'. However, since
there was a major difference between a dojo and real life (a dojo
would become rather depopulated if the attacks really were 'real'),
unless the defenders were very good, this principle needed some
interpretation. This principle came to mean that the attack had to be
'committed' or 'sincere'. Since practice with weapons was not the main
focus of training and we rarely trained in full-contact sparring, the
only sense I could make of this at this stage in my aikido career was
that the attack had to be matched to the supposed abilities of one's
defender or partner.
A third principle was the importance of kokyu power, as exemplified in
the techniques called kokyu-nage. I found this principle the most
shadowy of the lot. Kokyu-nage was translated as 'breath throw', but
this seemed strange. Every technique was a 'breath' technique, so the
projection of one's partner forwards or backwards seemed no different
from any other part of the aikido repertoire.
The question has sometimes been posed: Which should be taught first:
techniques or principles? At my stage, I did not know enough to
answer this question, which is similar to the question whether the
chicken or the egg comes first. As I suggested above, my early
training consisted in attempting to master a central core of
techniques and I suspect that the theory behind this was that the
attempt to master the core would yield some awareness of the
principles on which this core was based. One thing that did come very
early on in the learning process was the awareness that it was
extremely difficult to execute even the simplest of movements
correctly. The movement known as tenkan, fundamental to the correct
execution of 1-kyo ura, is one example. Even now there are people who
come to my dojo in Hiroshima who have trained for some time, but who
cannot execute this movement correctly. To my mind this illustrates
the problem of insufficient attention being given to important aspects
of training which are ancillary and preparatory to training in actual
waza.
At issue here is not merely the awareness or otherwise of correct
movement and technique, but the cognitive grasp of what this awareness
consists in. It is one thing to see the technique or movement done
correctly and even to judge that one's own technique or movement is
correct to varying degrees. It is quite another to express in logical
discourse just what this correctness or lack of it consists in. I
think the issue of the need for logical discourse, or lack of it, is a
major problem facing present-day aikido.
Problems relating to this issue led to problems in training. One
student in Cambridge Mass. was so obsessed with getting a movement
like kokyu-ho correct in every detail each time that, to the
consternation and frustration of his partners, very few of the
techniques being taught at the time were ever attempted. So we all
knew that if you were paired with this student, you would not get much
time to practice actual techniques very often. On the other hand, some
students in the London dojo became obsessed with mastering as many
techniques as possible, including all the variations, and these
students became frustrated with the daily staple of kihon-waza, done
slowly, with full power and with close attention to detail. There are
no easy answers here.
Another Beginning
Ryushinkan Dojo was run by a Japanese teacher named Minoru Kanetsuka.
I had seen Kanetsuka Sensei in Chiswick a few years before, and I
later found out that he had taken over from K Chiba as the leader of
the network of dojos the latter had established in the UK. Kanetsuka
Sensei's main dojo was Ryushinkan, but he also regularly visited the
dojo at University College London, where I was a student, and Chiba
Sensei's old dojo, which had by this time moved from Chiswick to Earls
Court and was named Tempukan. Under Kanetsuka Sensei's guidance I made
another new beginning and embarked on one of the most intense and
productive periods of my aikido career to date.
The dojo population was quite small, smaller than at the New England
Aikikai in Cambridge, but there was the same hard core of members who
practiced virtually every class. Several features of the training are
noteworthy.
First, Kanetsuka Sensei was a graduate of Takushoku University in
Tokyo, which is a stronghold of martial arts and sports clubs, so much
so that I am not entirely sure whether the students do any academic
work. The aikido practiced at Takudai is Yoshinkan aikido and, though
he moved over to the Aikikai after he graduated, I was struck by the
similarities between Kanetsuka Sensei's aikido training and the aikido
of Gozo Shioda. I had chanced upon a book called Dynamic Aikido, and
the basic techniques taught in the dojo seemed a mirror image of the
techniques shown in that book. There was the same emphasis placed on
correct form, down to the minutest details. There was the same
emphasis placed on being well grounded, with a strong, solid
posture. There was the same emphasis placed on strong wrist and arm
grips and on fully committed strikes and punches. Finally, great
emphasis was placed on kokyu power, as the key to the generation of
explosive energy. The careful attention to kokyu-ho exercises was
something I had not encountered before.
In Ryushinkan, too, the techniques had to 'work' and the attacks had
to be fully committed. I remember one memorable practice with a
visiting instructor. The instructor was not an aikido instructor, but
the legendary karate expert Hiroshi Kanazawa. Kanazawa Sensei, also a
graduate of Takudai, had been asked to teach us how to kick and punch
properly, because our efforts were so woefully inadequate. I have
never been in any other aikido dojo where a visiting instructor has
come to teach proper ways to attack.
The second noteworthy feature of Ryushinkan training at the time was
the attention paid to weapons. The series of volumes by Morihiro Saito
entitled Traditional Aikido had begun to appear and Kanetsuka Sensei
spent much time going through the ken and jo suburi, awase and
kumitachi/kumijo kata shown in the first two volumes. K Chiba had
spent some time in Iwama as a deshi and so weapons had been a major
feature of training in the Chiswick dojo, but the training was a blend
of various elements, not all from Iwama. However, Kanetsuka Sensei
single-mindedly focused on aiki-ken and aiki-jo. Near the dojo
entrance there was an old tyre set in a concrete block to form a
modern makiwara and we would often practise suburi training during the
second evening class. The first class usually followed a fairly rigid
pattern of exercises like funa-kougi, after which the usual routine
was zagi katame waza, followed by kokyu-ho training and other basics,
but the second class was usually given over to oyo-waza and/or weapons
training. The suburi training was not done to increase stamina, by the
way, though it actually did this. Great emphasis was placed on the
start of the movement (from one's tanden, though one had to make the
attempt to visualize this), the correctness of the swing, and the
focus of all one's power (not physical strength) at the point where
the bokken hit the tyre and beyond.
The third factor was the influence of zen training and the aikido of
M. Sekiya. Sekiya Sensei was K Chiba's father-in-law and he and his
wife spent a year in the UK. They lived in Kanetsuka Sensei's house
and some students in the Ryushinkan Dojo would spend time looking
after them. Mr Sekiya had retired from a job with Japan Airlines and
had known O Sensei in the latter's later years. He had also practiced
with a famous teacher called Seigo Yamaguchi and had a knowledge of
traditional Japanese sword work, which he taught in the dojo. Since
Sekiya Sensei was retired, there was an age gap of some 35-40 years
between himself and some of the young bloods in the dojo and we often
tried to catch him unawares. His aikido was completely different from
that of Kanetsuka Sensei and this presented a paradox: how could it be
so different and yet work just as effectively.
Mr Fukuda, the headmaster of the Japanese School in London was a Zen
master (Soto Zen) and he led za-zen practice in the dojo before
morning class on Saturdays. The session lasted 90 minutes, including a
short break for walking round the dojo, and ended with a discourse in
Japanese and the chanting of a sutra. Sitting correctly for the
allotted time without moving was the main purpose of practice, but I
also practiced breath control. After za-zen, we would usually do
weapon training and the combination was very satisfying. One or two
students in the dojo practiced zen elsewhere and saw aikido as the
'moving' part of their meditation training. Other students practiced
tai-chi and did aikido for the purpose of making cultural and other
comparisons. I myself never did this. For me aikido training was more
than enough and I practiced za-zen only as a supplememt to aikido and
as an aid to the grasp of some of the principles I alluded to
above. Since I knew Sekiya Sensei, I also started eating genmai and
tofu, learned how to make miso-shiru and learned about the yin-yang
balance, both in food and in life generally.
The dojo became a closely knit group and the individual joys and
sorrows, trials and tribulations that occur in daily training, were
largely shared. Kanetsuka Sensei also invited other Japanese shihans
resident outside Japan to come and teach at training seminars and so I
had the opportunity to meet some famous names like Morihiro Saito,
Nobuyoshi Tamura, Yoshimitsu Yamada, and Katsuaki Asai and to connect
these famous names wih real people. The seminar taught by Saito Sensei
was memorable for me because I had a chance to practice with him: to
try to throw him (unsuccessfully, but I think this was intentional)
and to take ukemi from him. Even now, 30 years later, I have never
forgotten what he taught me in those ten minutes or so.
During one such seminar I was suddenly told without any warning that I
had to take a shodan grading test that same afternoon. I was in a mad
panic for the next few hours as I tried to remember the grading
syllabus. I was one of three who took the test and do not remember
very much of what happened. Anyhow, we all passed, but we were firmly
told that in Japanese martial arts culture, receiving the first dan
diploma and putting on a black belt & hakama meant that we had
now-just-started proper training. The nine years I had spent as a
white belt were the hors d'oeuvre, not the main meal.
Over the years I have found that this view of the first dan is not
universally held. Some see it as the culmination of years of training
as a white belt and as an indication that the years of training as a
white belt enable one to teach the art. I think this view is
mistaken. For a start two separate issues have been run
together. There are merits and demerits in teaching aikido as a white
belted student and in some cases there is no alternative, if training
is to continue. However, this issue is a separate issue from that of
whether obtaining first dan is a kind of entitlement to teach
aikido. I myself did indeed begin teaching in the Ryushinkan Dojo
after obtaining first dan, but only under Kanetsuka Sensei's
direction. I was conscious that we were also being taught how to teach
correctly, for he sometimes had the young yudansha teach class while
he himself took part as a student. However, when I came to Japan and
became a member of the Hiroshima City Dojo, I stopped teaching aikido
altogether and it was not till I obtained fifth dan that I started
again.
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