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<blogEntry id="3668">
	<title><![CDATA[My Aikido journey: The Beginning.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[Well, its been a while since I made an entry on my blog. I thought since I had a couple of spare moments that I'd write a bit here. 

It might be interesting to some of you to know a little of my Aikido history. Here's a brief account: 

I started Aikido when I was twenty one. I had, from the time I was eight years old and watched my first "Kungfu" episode on t.v.,  wanted to practice a martial art. David Carradine punching and kicking his way to justice resonated powerfully with me (though even now I couldn't say why, exactly). My parents, unfortunately, were against my learning a martial art and refused to allow me to practice. They thought such training would foster certain attitudes and ideas in me that would not be positive. So, it wasn't until I was in university, away from home, that I was finally able to satisfy my dream of practicing a martial art. 

Aikido wasn't my even on my radar when I began to think seriously about my martial path. My mind was filled with Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan, Chuck Norris, Benny Urquidez, Bill Wallace and Sho Kosugi, Toshiro Mifune and Tomisaburo Wakayama (star of Lone Wolf and Cub). It was only when I stumbled upon an Aikido text by Maruyama sensei of the Ki no Kenkyukai in a local bookstore that my interest in this art was ignited. Although the pictures in the manual weren't terribly helpful and the writing rather overly esoteric at points, I still felt keenly drawn to the general idea of Aikido it expressed. The circularity of the techniques, the principles of relaxation, center, breath and extension of ki, and the idea of being in harmony with an attacker all greatly piqued my interest. 

I began to look for a dojo in Saskatoon but couldn't find one during my first year of studies. Early in my second year, however, I came across an ad for an Aikido dojo practicing on campus. Man, was I excited! I watched a class itching all the while just to jump right in and try it out. I couldn't sign up fast enough and begin my study of Aikido.

I was/am a fairly coordinated guy; I was pretty adept at most sports and assumed I could depend on this in my practice of Aikido. While I don't remember much of my early days of training, I do remember initially having a bugger of a time doing rolls. I also recall having a dickens of a time remembering what I had just seen the teacher demonstrate. I don't know how many times my sensei would do a technique, explain it, and then, when we had split up into pairs for practice, have to come over to me and show me again what he had just demonstrated. Aikido was so complicated! There was so much to do all at once! This was a whole other world from the comparatively simple maneuvers of basketball or football. 

I was highly motivated to do well at Aikido - this was, after all, a long held dream I was fulfilling! So, I would go home after each practice and spend about an hour, eyes closed, going slowly over the movements we had studied in practice, performing them again and again, paying attention to my balance, and footwork, and breathing. I would also come regularly forty minutes or so before class and practice rolling. I would do hundreds of rolls, front and back, determined to be as smooth and round as my teacher was. I gotta' tell ya' it was a little bit of heaven to finally be learning something of what Kwai Chang Caine might have known.  

More later. :D]]></body>
	<date>10-17-2009</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3470">
	<title><![CDATA[The Curse is broken!]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[Ha hah! The Ikkyu Curse has finally been broken! I now have two Ikkyu-ranked students in my dojo! Took bloody long enough! (No fault of my students, of course) I have come very close in the past to having students ranked to this level, but one of them contracted a heart infection that ended up requiring five open heart surgeries to remedy and the other fell in love and moved to the States. The nerve of these guys, eh? :D  What happened to these two produced the "Ikkyu Curse": A half-joking, half-serious, superstitious idea that attempting to obtain the rank of Ikkyu in my dojo would be prevented by injury or some significant life change. Well, nuts to that! Jamie and Jeremy have just put that superstition finally and permanently to rest. 

Since turning forty (I'm forty-one now) my body has begun to complain about my past hard use of it. I used to powerlift and did a lot of slam-bang Aikido practice when I was younger. I herniated a disc (L5-S1) in my early thirties and damaged my left shoulder rotator tendons pretty badly five years ago. I also sustained a mid-spine injury (just below my shoulder blades) from a heavy squat gone awry when I was in my early twenties. Until recently, this old injury hasn't bothered me a bit. Now, however, its giving me some grief. 

I mention all this because I had to take ukemi for Jeremy's Ikkyu test. I have taken pains to maintain as much limberness as possible, but, regardless, my ukemi is not what it once was. Prior to his test, Jeremy and I worked together trying to take the slack out of his technique. I let him throw me pretty vigorously for most of the morning. By the time the test was to occur, I was starting to run out of gas and my body was protesting all the break falls I was taking. Jeremy was pumped for his test and threw strongly during it. I was doing okay, though. At one point, however, he was attempting to do morotedori koshinage and I just "brain farted." I couldn't think how to take ukemi for the technique. My shoulder was killing me and my back was protesting loudly and I just blanked on the form of the fall. Twice he attempted the koshinage and twice I just froze up! Ah! I felt like such an idiot! And poor Jeremy was thinking it was all his fault. Ugh! What a mess! I finally did a sort of jump over Jeremy and ignominiously fell on the floor. The rest of the test I was able to take ukemi okay, but I finished feeling tired, sore, and quite embarrassed.  

Oh, what I would give for the indestructible body of my twenties! This getting old thing sucks! :uch: 

In the end, however, I am very delighted to have Jamie and Jeremy attain Ikkyu. I'm happy to have contributed - aches and pains and all - to their success. Hopefully, I'll be able to continue to contribute in the same way to their pursuit of shodan! 

Gambatte Okudasai!  :D]]></body>
	<date>03-24-2009</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3425">
	<title><![CDATA[Have a seat.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[At the end of class tonight I had my students practice evading shomenuchi from multiple attackers (3 this time). I wanted them to work mainly on evasion and body movement rather than on applying a particular technique. This is pretty straightforward stuff and didn't require having any skill with Aikido techniques, so I let even the new student (first time tonight) have a go at it. He was ducking and dodging as new people do and getting hit quite a lot. At one point, the action passed by where I was sitting in seiza. In an attempt to avoid getting hit, the new guy lunged and ducked sideways so sharply that he completely lost balance and ended up sitting on me! Ha! I saw him coming and got my arms up so that he came to rest on them almost as though he were sitting in a chair. Still sitting on my arms, he looked around at me in surprise and then, abruptly, stood up. We all had a good chuckle. I've been bopped and poked, smacked and wrenched doing Aikido, but I've never had anyone sit on me before!     

Since we had a couple of new people in the dojo, I was, once again, teaching katate-tori shihonage. I was thinking about how many times I've actually taught this technique and, roughly estimating, realized that it was over a thousand times. I have to be careful, consequently, not to become robotic about how I teach this technique. I tried to remember what it was like for me when I first tried to do shihonage. Recalling the excitement and fascination I had with it so many years ago really helped to keep me enthused about teaching it once more.  

Anywhooo...hopefully next time I blog I'll have something more profound to share -- or not. :D]]></body>
	<date>01-28-2009</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3424">
	<title><![CDATA[Odd beginning]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[I had a bit of a strange thing happen at practice tonight. A young fellow showed up to check out a class. Nothing strange about this, of course. It was what happened between myself and this young man after class that was, well, odd. When the class was concluded, I approached the young fellow and asked him if he had any questions or concerns. To my surprise he responded by saying, "Well, I don't want to correct the sensei after my first class but..." I kept a smile on my face, but I was thinking, "This guy's got a lot of nerve! If he offers a correction on my Aikido technique things are gonna' get ugly!" He continued, "...your pronunciation was wrong. Its 'shichi' and 'kyu,' not 'shi' and 'ku.' He was referring to my pronunciation of '4' and '9' in japanese. I wasn't sure whether to be irritated or amused. I went with amused. "Well, I don't really fuss about it," I said, "I'm a Canadian, not japanese, and not too concerned about how well I pronounce japanese terms." The young fellow grinned, made some conciliatory noises and moved the conversation to a different topic.

I'm still a little baffled by this young man's criticism. I mean, what a way to introduce yourself to someone - especially a martial arts teacher from whom you wish to learn! My shihan would have thought such a fellow extremely rude and flatly refused to teach him. Ah, well. I'll see how things go. An odd beginning, though, don't you think? Sheesh.]]></body>
	<date>01-26-2009</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3423">
	<title><![CDATA[Taking root.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[I have a new student at the dojo who has come from a fair amount of training in striking arts. I think he said he'd done kung fu, boxing, and karate. Anyhow, watching him move reminds me once again  of the benefits of learning a martial art that focuses on building a solid base. He has light, fast hands and a bounciness to his movement that one would expect from a striker, but virtually no root. The thing is, although he can strike quickly, his striking has no deep power. I can see clearly that his punching power originates from the shoulder and tricep. He has a complete disconnect from his hips, which astonishes me since he claims to have quite a bit of martial training. This guy is not unique, however. I had an Isshin Ryu karate instructor practice with me for a time who told me he had never been shown how to punch from the hip until he came to my dojo.

Speaking of hips and root and power, I've been thinking about, and experimenting with, how to transfer loads through my body. This, I believe, is key to having a solid base and becoming immoveable. I used to think that one gripped the ground somehow with mental intent, bent the knees, widened the stance and physically resisted an attacker's force, but no longer. As I ponder and attempt to employ the principle of tensegrity within myself, fine-tune body posture, transfer and bear loads efficiently, and learn to get out of my own way physically, I am beginning to feel more "rooted." I have fiddled with some Feldenkrais stuff in this process, too. The net result, so far, has been worth the effort.  

The new student I mentioned earlier provided me with an opportunity to see the benefits of my dabbling. He was performing kaiten nage on me and had me bent over, head and arm controlled, and just ready to throw. In spite of my position, I felt no loss of balance sufficient to make me fall, so I just stood in place and waited for him to make me fall. He began to shove my head and arm repeatedly and even bumped me sharply with his hip but could not take my balance. Now, some of the problem he was having was with the form of his technique, the way he was pushing me, but most of it was the result of the difference between his base and my own. I was a little surprised (and, I must admit, pleased) to feel so distinctly the lightness of his center and the comparative heaviness of my own.

I shall continue to experiment and, hopefully, develop a truly immoveable base. I'll let you all know how its going and what I discover. At the moment, I've been loading my structure with rubber tubing and standing in the basic chi kung posture. Interesting...very interesting...]]></body>
	<date>01-25-2009</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3369">
	<title><![CDATA[Poop or get off the pot.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[I have had the opportunity - many times - over the years to field inquiries about practice at my dojo. Generally, they are the same sorts of inquiries: How much? How often can I practice? Do I need a gi in order to start training? And so on. Usually, the inquiries are brief, to the point, and involve only one or two exchanges. 

Frequently, a potential student will make initial inquiries, establish a time at which they intend to come to the dojo, and then not show up. Okay. Happens a lot. No big deal. But then there is a new e-mail from the absent, wanna-be aikidoka; one that apologizes for not coming and expresses a deep desire to want to show up for practice soon. Time passes and this would-be student still doesn't appear. In his place, however, another e-mail appears. It contains more apologies and new proclamations of intent to train. Nonetheless, he remains absent. 

I've often tried to make sense of such people. Probably, I shouldn't bother. It just seems so odd to me, though, to go through such a lot of apologizing and promising for nothing. Usually, people come to watch a class, realize they don't want to do it, lie to my face about how they thought what they'd seen was "neat" or "impressive," even ask how to join, and I never see them again. I don't much care for the polite lying, but I do prefer this approach to the protracted one I've described above.

Anyway, can I encourage anyone who is reading this and considering joining a dojo to [I]not[/I] make overtures toward a dojo until you are certain you can and will follow through (should the dojo be what you're looking for)? On behalf of all dojo instructors, I thank you for doing so. Oh, and if you should find the dojo not to your liking, please don't lie and say it is. Its usually the poorest liars who do this, so its easy to tell. Thanks.]]></body>
	<date>10-26-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3360">
	<title><![CDATA[What you don't know can hurt you.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[The first time I tried randori I was just third kyu. For some of you that may seem a bit early for randori; for others of you it may seem a little late. In any case, the first time I tried to do randori I had only the sketchiest idea of what it involved. What I had grasped of the concept and practice intrigued me and I was hell-bent to give it a try. 

I showed up to practice one day not long after discovering randori and found that I was the senior person on the mats. It fell to me to "lead" the class, which I did, straight into randori. I think part of me was itching to see if my Aikido actually worked, so I didn't put much in the way of restrictions on how randori played out. Basically, as I understood it at the time, randori was more or less a sparring match. The attackers attacked as they liked, and the defender defended with Aikido technique until he could no longer do so. Remember now, I was only third kyu and had never done anything like this before. Unfortunately, my fellow students had fairly extensive training in other martial arts like tae kwon do, karate, and kick-boxing. Consequently, I got a royal beating. I fractured a couple of molars (It took two bottles of 222's and a week and a half for the pain from my molars to subside), developed some lovely bruises on my ribs, and lumps on my face. To add insult to injury, I never managed to actually throw anyone!

I learned alot from the experience, however. There's nothing like this sort of a reality check to make one consider carefully what one is doing. Fortunately, I've gone on to refine my approach to randori and now I hardly ever get smacked in the face. Yay!

Gambatte okudasai!]]></body>
	<date>10-09-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3358">
	<title><![CDATA[The power of  mild.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[Lisa is another one of my most dedicated students. She's been around for awhile now fairly consistently. She works hard and enjoys her time on the mats - mostly. 

Lisa's not got what I would call a robust frame. In fact, she's rather...slender. Lisa's not short, though, and has, actually, surprisingly long arms, which reach out and "touch" you during atemi practice with an extension one does not quite expect.  

Lisa's unnaturally flexible (as far as I'm concerned) and relaxed. I'm not sure she could be tense if she tried. This lack of tension makes her alot of fun to throw, however. I can toss her with a fair amount of power and she just kinda' bends like a sapling in the wind and absorbs it.

Lisa's a really mild person, which is her only shortcoming on the mats. She is timid and careful when she should be strong and assertive (in the performance of technique, I mean). I don't know how many times I've heard an unnecessary apology escape her lips during training. In fact, Lisa is so mild - even when she punches at me - that I sometimes get hit by her. I just don't perceive any threat in her attack and so sometimes when her arm very peaceably stretches out and puts her fist ever so kindly in my eye I find myself surprised (and feeling just a little betrayed ;) ).]]></body>
	<date>10-08-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3354">
	<title><![CDATA[Ki master - yeah, right.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[I'm going to be very opinionated in this blog entry. 

I just watched a high-ranked aikido teacher (8th dan, I believe) doing some no-touch "throwing" on YouTube. Naturally, I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. The students were flinging themselves in massive, flipping arcs through the air in response to small waving motions from the sensei. I would've laughed at this demonstration if it didn't make Aikido look so bad. 

I watched a vid clip on YouTube of a "ki master" doing similar things with his students.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tib2Urowsdc

This guy would wave his arms around and his students would leap through the air, or they'd jerk and writhe on the ground in response to the smallest movement from their teacher. I later saw the same "ki master" in another vid clip knocked on his butt and humiliated by a young kick boxer. This "ki master" lasted about a minute (if that) before his little fantasy world of ki mastery was brought to a humiliating end. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7jf3Gc2a0_8

I think this needs to happen to some of the senior Aikido teachers I see representing the art in the same way as this "ki master." I think having a few of the big names in Aikido actually prove their Aikido works (or not) against a genuine challenge would be extremely good for the art. Much of the nonsense that has found its way into Aikido would be removed by this vigorous "process of elimination."

(For those of you who have seen clips of Osensei doing no-touch throws, I would urge you to make a close comparison between what he does and what idiots like the above "ki master" are doing. More than this, though, Osensei defeated a number of serious challengers and proved that what he was doing was not the empty foolishness of some Aikido shihan today.)]]></body>
	<date>09-30-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3228">
	<title><![CDATA[Advice to Aikido newbies]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[I had my students working on close-quarter striking and defense last night. Here's some of what I told my students:

1. Whether you're attacking or defending, plan ahead (or, at least, don't get attached to what you're doing). 

I've noticed that a student who is brand new to randori will focus entirely upon what they are doing at the moment. By this, I mean, that every action totally absorbs the student's attention until it is completed. If attackers are attacking en masse, one doesn't have the  time to observe the full result of one's actions. One must meet the attack, join with it, lead it, and then let it go. This all has to happen  seamlessly and quickly without attachment to the end result. The more concerned one is about how one's defensive action has affected the attacker, the less attention they are able to give to the next oncoming attacker. In this condition one is rapidly overcome. 

Likewise, when one is defending at close-quarters against, and counter-attacking with, strikes, one must not choose one's next move [I]after[/I] the present one is complete. One must, in the midst of deflecting one blow, be choosing and delivering the counter-attack. Actually, one can, to a certain degree, anticipate and even order how one's opponent defends. In so doing one can, in a sense, force one's opponent to open up for an attack (in Aikido we'd say "lead" rather than "force"). But one must multi-task, defending and attacking together, without strong interest in the result of any single action.

2. Move the body, not just the arms.

Students who are new to close-quarters work tend to rely almost entirely upon their arms to defend themselves. This is usually at the expense of a moving body. I don't mean moving in the sense that the legs carry the body forward, or backward, or side to side. What I actually mean is that, while in place, the torso, legs and neck flex, and bend, and twist. Avoiding a blow this way is much simpler and faster and often puts one in a much better position to counter attack than stepping permits. 

This tactic holds true (though in a somewhat different way) in randori, as well. Early on in randori training I get students simply to avoid shomenuchi, or tsuki, or yokomenuchi. Instinctively, they will almost always begin to deflect or block strikes with their arms. And as soon as they do this, their movement around the mats decreases. Usually, this creates a kind of feedback loop where because the student is using their arms to defend, they move around less, and because they are moving around less, they must use their arms to defend more. Inevitably this cycle ends in the student being overwhelmed. (Don't misunderstand me, though, its perfectly fine to use one's arms to defend - just not at the expense of a moving body.)    

3. Follow the energy in its retreat.

In Aikido we typically try to use oncoming attacking energy to throw or lock and pin. If anything, we attempt to exaggerate the attacker's action or add to its energy. This is possible when the attacks are longer in their form and the attacker's center is entirely committed to the attack. When a shorter boxing-style attack is mounted this style of defense becomes extremely difficult. In such a circumstance, "riding" the attacker's arm or leg as it withdraws after its attack can be very useful. Just as there is energy moving out as the attack is given, there is energy in the withdrawal of that attack. This retreating energy can be exaggerated or added to, as well, and used to jam, or interrupt the attacker's rhythm and attacking initiative. If one follows at the right angle, one can move safely right through the attacker's center and throw.   

Of course, I've by no means "arrived" as far as my understanding of these things and my ability to execute them is concerned. I'm getting closer all the time, though (and so are my students).  :)]]></body>
	<date>06-13-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3223">
	<title><![CDATA[Enter the Dragon]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[No, this ain't about Bruce Lee. Its about my senior female student, Jamie. First time I spoke to Jamie it was over the phone. She was inquiring about practice and I told her it was just a bunch of sweaty guys with whom she'd be training. Didn't phase her one bit. Without missing a beat she said, "So when can I start?" Its been sorta' like that with Jamie ever since.

Jamie's on the small side, but is absolutely determined not to let that be a disadvantage. Like Jeremy, she's a perfectionist and gets frustrated fairly easily. Its been a concern to me to see that her drive for excellence sometimes makes her very unhappy, but if she trains right I'm sure balance will come to her in this area, too.  Lately, I've felt her moving with a solidity and strength that one would not expect from someone her size. Its very gratifying as a teacher to see this happening.  

Jamie's usually wearing her hair in a ponytail during practice, which she uses to whip her attackers in the face. She [I]says[/I] this happens purely by accident. Uh huh, riiiight.;) Imagine our concern when she shows up with her hair in [I]two[/I] ponytails! (I'll have to say something if she starts tying little bits of stone or glass to the ends of them...) 

Jamie really enjoys randori. If she gets the new video clips ready sometime soon (ahem, cough, cough) you can see her do her thing. During demos we get quite a reaction from the crowd when this little filipino woman starts planting people into the mat. She turns into this bouncing, spinning blur tossing people right and left and whipping them in the face with a black tail of hair. Quite something to watch, I can tell you.

Jamie's got this annoying habit of being organized and detailed about everything and wanting clearer explanations than I might initially give her. Its rather perturbing to have her say, "I didn't understand that at all" or, "Didn't you just say to do it another way?"      Yeesh, do I have to explain everything?! Apparently, yes. 

I am very glad to have Jamie in the dojo. She's a first-rate senior student and looks really sexy in a gi. (Don't get your knickers in a twist about that last comment -- I can talk that way about my wife, if I like.)]]></body>
	<date>06-09-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3207">
	<title><![CDATA[Taking balance.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[So I had my students work on balance last night. We did a few rooting exercises and then spent the remainder of the night studying how a person can be made to lose their balance. I just had one of a pair stand, feet square, knees slightly bent and working in place to keep balanced. The other of the pair could do anything they liked to make their partner lose balance - but only with a single point of contact and with no abrupt force. We moved on to balance-taking with two points of contact and then three. Finally, I allowed the one being unbalanced to step about to maintain balance. We worked slowly, studying how to find that off-balancing angle or action that prevented any corrective steps or body shifts or that used these corrective steps or shifts to further bind the person and take their balance. 

This practice was totally principle-oriented. I showed my students no particular technique whereby they could take their partner's balance and urged them to resist using actual aikido technique to do so. I asked them to be very creative about how they applied the principles of balance-taking. I think my students were both fascinated and frustrated by this challenge. Often, they would be moving along the right line, but at not quite the right angle. If their initial effort didn't induce their partner to lose balance, though, they would simply stop the action entirely and start again. I had to encourage them to feel out their action thoroughly and see if small shifts in its direction could change the outcome. To their surprise, they found that fundamentally their choice of tactic was usually sound -- it just needed a little fine-tuning.

I think some of my students would prefer to have the answers handed to them, neatly packaged in a technique. But a technique can be practiced and appear to be "working" even if the underlying principles aren't understood. This kind of technical training creates illusions about martial effectiveness, however, which I am eager to prevent in my students.]]></body>
	<date>05-10-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3198">
	<title><![CDATA[Ebb and flow.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[Attendance has been ebbing these days rather than flowing. The upside of this is that I can give much more concentrated attention to the few who show up, which I [I]think[/I] they appreciate. The downside is that it kinda' takes the wind out of my sails to have been running a dojo for so long and still find myself clawing and scraping for students. 

Speaking of which, I have had some very odd would-be students at my dojo. One fellow, for example, showed up, watched a class and then began to query me enthusiastically about training. After I had answered his many questions, he then says, "Oh, actually, I should tell you that I've had torn retinas and can't bump my head or jar my body. If I do, they might tear again and then I'd be blind." I remember staring at him and thinking, "Well what in the world are you doing here?!" I mean, really, does a fingerless person take up typing? Does a blind person take up photography? Needless to say, the fellow never joined the dojo. 

This keeps happening, though. I've had people with bad backs observe class and then explain that they'd like to train but they can't twist their torso, or bend their back, and falling is absolutely out of the question. I wonder if these same folk think deaf people should tune pianos?  

There are also those people who ask, "What if I can only train once  a week or maybe only a couple of times a month? Is that okay?" I always tell them "Sure, if you don't mind seeing people who start years after you, but who train three or four times a week, outrank you within a year or so. Oh, and the fee is still $60.00 a month no matter how little you train." Remarks like these usually dissuade the half-hearted and the too-busy prospective students, which suits me fine since it frees me from having a dojo full of perennial newbies. 

Do I sound a little cranky? Meh, maybe I need more time in the sunshine...]]></body>
	<date>04-30-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3187">
	<title><![CDATA[Monday night musings.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[Well, we had a visitor from another CAF dojo in Saskatoon show up for practice last night. It was interesting to see how this yudansha was doing his aikido. It was, in some respects, rather different than the way I do things. We were practicing yokomenuchi shihonage (omote and ura) last night so my observations are only about this technique. I usually begin the cut down at the end of shihonage with hands, head, hips and feet all in a line -- just as when holding and cutting with a sword. This fellow, though, using only one hand, would bring uke's hand over his head and with a strong, casting-forward action, cut uke's arm down to the mat. Didn't really see any sword-like cutting motion at all in his form, so I'm not sure about the rationale behind this style of execution of shihonage...

The visitor had been a professional coach for many years and I think it was hard for him not to fall into that role with my students. A couple of times when I was offering instruction to one of my students (with whom he was working), he chimed in and offered his own advice! Raised my eyebrows, I can tell you. He wasn't going overboard with the shadow teaching thing, and I didn't want to embarrass him, so I waited until the end of class to privately encourage him not to assume an unappointed teaching role in someone else's dojo. He's a very decent fellow and didn't get all up-in-arms when I explained to him why I didn't appreciate shadow teaching in my dojo. He recognized the validity of what I was saying and apologized.  

It really surprises me how often other visiting yudansha feel free to shadow teach. I would never offer any instruction to anyone in a dojo I was visiting unless explicitly given such freedom to do so by the dojo instructor. Its just proper etiquette, isn't it? I certainly think so.]]></body>
	<date>04-15-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3185">
	<title><![CDATA[Some exercises you might wanna' try sometime.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[It was a regular Tuesday night practice -- again. We worked through a series of two-man exercises emphasizing relaxation, soft contact, energy connection, and taking uke's center by moving through it. We didn't have our mats available to us, so we didn't do any vigorous classical Aikido throwing. 

Here's a few of the exercises that we did:

1. Facing each other squarely, uke, with only one hand, pushes nage 3 times. Nage, without moving backward, slips the pushes with body movement and placement and moves through uke's center. No hands allowed on nage's part. Gotta' stay really relaxed in the upper body and work the angles on this one!

2. Same as before only this time as nage slips the pushes he/she must strike uke. Nage is still moving through uke's center. Lots of timing work, multi-tasking, and striking at angles with this one. Often, attempting to strike uke causes tension in nage, which makes slipping the pushes more difficult. A big part of the challenge of this exercise is to stay relaxed even when delivering a strike.   

3. This time uke is actually striking nage from any angle (slowly, at first). Nage may use hands to strike, or to trap uke's striking arm, and legs to trip or sweep uke's legs. Nage must not retreat. 

I often give the following instructions to my students:

We are not fighting. We are learning how to fight. There is a significant difference. When you are working with your partner, you are not trying to make your partner fail; you are trying to help your partner succeed. If your partner makes a mistake, throw the same punch again until your partner correctly counters it. Go at a speed that challenges him/her, but allows for success. This is how training differs from fighting: you are working together to improve, not trying to defeat one another.

I have to say something like this at least once during every Tuesday class we do. Striking sure gets the guys riled up.]]></body>
	<date>04-09-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3183">
	<title><![CDATA[Horn blower.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[So, Jeremy, along with Jamie, is my senior-most student. He's a professional trombone player for the Winnipeg Air Command Band (which is part of the military). He does a fair amount of jazz playing, too. Jeremy is a tall fellow (about 6'3"), but not a big one (he's just under 200lbs.). He's in his early thirties, and nearing his black belt rank, which means he's eager to fling and fly in practice. 

I think Jeremy is something of a perfectionist, which probably stands him in good stead as a musician. As a martial artist, however, his perfectionism seems to make him relatively easily frustrated. Mind you, he used to get frustrated at the drop of hat when he started with me; he's considerably milder now. These days, when he gets upset, his face flushes red, his brow furrows and he purses his lips tightly (which you really notice on a guy who plays the trombone for a living), but there isn't the muttered cursing and angry slapping of his thighs like there once was. 

Jeremy's coming along very well as an aikidoka. He'll make a very competent black belt. When he uses his length well, his technique feels like he might throw you right out of the dojo! 

The one unfortunate thing about his having to train at my dojo is that everyone he's working with is shorter. Jeremy already unconsciously shrinks himself in his movements, and when he's practicing with someone like Jamie, who is only a little over five feet tall, he sometimes has to condense himself so much that, as I watch him, I find myself thinking about imploding stars and quantum singularities.

If Jim and Gary are salt to the dojo, Jeremy is pepper. He works very hard and in doing so imparts energy to the whole dojo. Students like Jeremy are vital to keeping a healthy vigor and edge to training. I'm very glad he's with us.]]></body>
	<date>04-08-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3182">
	<title><![CDATA[The Irishman.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[I wrote a bit about Jim, the oldest member of my dojo, in my last entry, so I thought I'd continue with the introductions by writing about Gary, the second oldest member of the dojo. 

First off, Gary is Irish. This means, of course, he has a very ready and very witty sense of humour (Jim has a sense of humor, too, but its dry as a box of soda crackers). It also means he's gregarious, has a bit of a temper (tho' of the passive-aggressive sort), and has a very independent mind. Gary's always thinking things through, asking questions and making observations. He likes the "why" of things, as well as the "how."

Gary has the amusing habit of talking his way through the performance of a technique. He often works through technique muttering, "So now I want to do this...and then go like this... and then..." Of course, when he's doing this he's moving at a speed that allows it. When things go faster, he makes up for being unable to say anything with some really remarkable faces. His very mobile Irish features make for some astonishing facial configurations!

Practicing with Gary is always enjoyable. He works hard, studies what he's doing, but still manages to have some fun, too. Who cares that he sweats more than a sauna full of football players. :D]]></body>
	<date>04-06-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3180">
	<title><![CDATA[Introductions]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[I have an interesting bunch of people with whom I train. I've taught Aikido to folks from all walks of life: welders, security guards, doctors, business men, students, musicians (a lot of these), soldiers, policemen, housewives, general labourers, etc. etc. Presently, I teach Aikido to a fairly diverse group ranging from a sixty-something Phd. in clinical psychology to a twenty-year-old auto-glass installer. 

Jim, the retired-teacher-turned-clinical-psychologist is the oldest member of my dojo. He began his study of Aikido with an independent dojo - a sort of off-shoot of Ki Aikido. He trained there for a dozen years (I think) and reached the rank of nidan. Unfortunately, the dojo shrank to nothing and Jim found himself looking elsewhere to train. Eventually, Jim found my dojo and began to train with me. He's been with me for a number of years now (Five or six? I'm not sure...) and has been nothing but a boon to the dojo.

The transition from what Jim knew as Aikido to what I was teaching was...significant. Let's just say my style of Aikido was more "gritty." Anyway, Jim has stuck with me, endured the re-orientation of his Aikido, and is now a core member of my dojo. He's never quite lost the Ki Aikido-ish way of moving - a hopping, swinging, weight-underside style of action - but I don't really expect him to.

One of the things about Jim that stands out in my mind is his habit of dropping to his knees when he's put off balance. I mean, he drops [I]straight[/I] down. Not forward and down, or back and down, but right, straight, down like he's been clotheslined. This means that sometimes he falls directly onto nage's toes. In fact - and this is why I mention it - he dropped onto [I]my[/I] toes once so hard he caused blood to splurt from my big toenail. It made a bit of a mess on the mats. A week later he did it again - to the same toe! My toe turned dark purple for a few days and my nail fell off. Ouch! 

In spite of being sixty, Jim still takes breakfalls. Pretty darn impressive, if you ask me - especially in view of the fact that Jim is a fairly big guy. I hope I can do the same when I'm his age. 

'Working with Jim requires that you move with him, not against him. Imposing technique on Jim is very, very difficult. This is good, I think, because, of course, technique ideally should not be imposed. Throwing Jim requires a slower pace and a gentle, subtle energy which only flows from a gentle, peaceful mind. Practicing with him, then, means training with an open, harmonious attitude, which is, as you might expect, a very pleasant experience -- except, of course, for the toe crushing thing.  

Well, that's all for now.]]></body>
	<date>04-05-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3175">
	<title><![CDATA[Non-verbal communication.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[Nothing much to comment on regarding class. The usual sort of practice: Suwari waza (shomenuchi nikyo), tachi waza (shomenuchi irminage) and little zesty sprinkling of jiyu waza to finish things off. 

Its fun for me to occasionally demonstrate directly to new students what is possible if they'll persist with training. The newbie, Jeret, was doing his usual katatetori shihonage (which he's been doing each night since he started a couple of weeks ago) and looking a little bored. So, I interrupted his practice and had him grab me katatetori as strongly as he could. He was a little tentative at first, but after some urging from me he began to grab my wrist very aggressively. I did with him the same technique he's been practicing the last few weeks. Of course, I've had a bit more practice at it, so I did it a little differently than he does. I gave him a soft version of shihonage and the look of surprise and bemusement on his face as he fell to the floor made me grin. By the time I was finished throwing him he was breathing hard, but with a big smile on his face. Most importantly, he didn't look bored when he returned to his practice of katatetori shihonage. ;) 

Well, they say brevity is a sign of genius, so, for now, I'll write no more. 

God bless.]]></body>
	<date>03-29-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3173">
	<title><![CDATA[Wednesday night shuffle.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[It was just the older guys and the newbie tonight. So, instead of a night of thrashing and pounding I slowed things way down and had my students practice a series of opening tai sabaki against yokomenuchi for the entire class. I think the older guys appreciated this brief respite from the usual vigor of practice. I think they also liked the depth to which I went in explaining the mechanics of the various sabaki -- except maybe the new guy, Jeret. At one point, he asked, "Can I punch him now?" with such a note of hopefulness in his voice that I chuckled a bit. I think he felt some of the fun of practice was gone when no one was being hit or flung to the mat.              

I've noticed that people have their own particular practice habits on the mat. For instance, last night after each time I interrupted the older guys to explain something, they always resumed their practice with more or less the same exchange:

"Um...whose turn is it?"
"Yours, I think." 
"Really? I thought it was your turn now."
"Hmmm...maybe...No, I think you've got a couple of reps left." 
"Oh, okay. Did we do the left side last?"
"Yeah, er, no, it was the right."
"Right? The right side?"
"Yeah." 
"Right, then. Okay."
"What?"
"Eh?"

And so on.

They also had this strange "stance dance" that appeared to be part of their lets-resume-practice ritual. They'd both get into gyaku-hanmi and simultaneously realize they ought to be in ai-hanmi. So, they'd both switch stances and find themselves again in gyaku-hanmi. Then they'd switch a third time, but one would realize mid-switch that if he didn't stop his switch he'd be in the wrong hanmi again, so he'd suddenly do this riverdance-like foot change and reverse his stance. I'm not sure why, but this seemed to trigger off a few moments of rapid foot switching on the part of both guys that looked sorta' like someone was shooting the ground at their feet with a six-gun. Finally, after several moments, they'd get themselves arranged and practice would begin again. Whatever gets you going, I guess.:D 

Anyway...

Take 'er easy!]]></body>
	<date>03-27-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3170">
	<title><![CDATA[Some more punching and pushing.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[I recently saw a video clip on YouTube of Royce Gracie challenging a Hapkido teacher to a match. Three times Royce took the teacher to the ground and made him tap out. Very instructive. Royce just moved directly into the Hapkido guy as quickly as he could to nullify his striking ability and then dropped him to the floor. The clip reminded me of the value of not retreating in a straight line (which is what the Hapkido teacher did), the problem with needing to get distance in order to strike, and the necessity of having stopping power in every single blow. It also reinforced in my thinking the absolute necessity of having as solid a root as possible. 

With these thoughts in mind I began Tuesday night practice. I've had my students practice rooting and moving energy through their body on a fairly regular basis, but the pushing involved in this kind of practice wasn't explosive and repeated like it was last night. The goal was to hold one's place against repeated hard shoves (10 in a row) first against the upper torso and then at the waist. I allowed my students to slip the pushes with shoulder rolling and hip turning and/or directly receive the energy from the push and move it through their body into the floor. I even suggested to some of my students to try returning the energy to the one pushing, but this didn't go so well. Instead of actually receiving the energy, these students began to preemptively push back against their partner's energy. Anyway, it was good to experience a more aggressive, pulsing energy while maintaining root.

Moved on to striking after about ten minutes of shoving and rooting. Worked on heavy hitting on pads, which is focused on developing penetrating power in strikes. Visualization and intention are really important in this type of hitting, but I'm not sure how many of my students were understanding this. I know Jamie and Jeremy have some idea of how to hit heavy, but the rest, I think, are still preoccupied with movement mechanics. 

The real trick is to be able to hit fast [I]and[/I] deep. Often, when a strike is delivered fast, there is a certain amount of muscular tension especially in the arm and shoulder that interferes with strike penetration. The relaxation that fosters a heavy hit has to continue at high speed, which is not easily done. This is true in so many aspects of the martial arts, though, isn't it?  

After knuckles were sufficiently skinned, I asked my students to  practice rapid-fire deflecting and blocking and then deflecting and following in a strike with one hand to counter-strike (this has a sort of sticky hand quality to it). I ask my students to actually hit each other (you'll fight like you train), but slowly if they want to hit deeply and shallowly if they want to strike fast. Sometimes they get this backwards...:crazy:             

Well, that's another class come and gone. Practice, practice, practice... :D]]></body>
	<date>03-26-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3164">
	<title><![CDATA[Wednesday night doings.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[Class tonight involved the usual suspects. Except for a very keen newbie, there were only core students in attendance. 

We were back on the tatami tonight (as opposed to Tuesday nights when we have to practice in a space to which we cannot bring our mats), so back to classical aikido techniques. Did the usual warm-up stuff and then some hanmi-handachi waza. Katatetori kaitenage (uchi tenkan) was the order of the day. Everyone seemed to be working without too much difficulty. Lisa tended to raise her gripped arm almost completely extended above her head while going under uke's arm. At full length, raising her arm this way allowed uke to stand up straight and maintain balance, which of course wasn't any good. I only mentioned to her that her form was off and she self-corrected without any specific advice from me. Very good.

Jamie was feeling miserable with a stomach complaint, so she was having one of those grit your teeth and train days. Near the end of class she finally had to sit out. She was feeling really tired too, but still trained anyway. She's a great senior student to have in the dojo.  

Jeremy's at that place in his training where he's feeling out the boundaries of his power in technique. Lots of "ooomph!" in how he does things on the mat -- sometimes too much for the older guys like Jim and Gary. Its interesting to watch as Jeremy tries to impose his power on them and they, in turn, attempt to slow him down. So far, I haven't had to intervene directly, but I have mentioned to Jeremy that he ought to work within what he's given energy-wise from his uke. I think he's still on the "I gotta' whip everyone to the mat" line of thinking, though. He's a smart guy; he'll figure it out. 

We did katamenuchi shihonage for standing practice. It took a bit of explaining, but they all managed to work out how to pass properly under uke's gripping arm while performing shihonage with uke's striking arm. Once that was accomplished, everyone seemed to move fairly well through the technique. 

Did a little tsuki kokyunage at the end of class followed by some 3-attacker randori and that was all she wrote. The randori is always fascinating to watch. At first, new guys take a combative attitude toward randori. They think they have to throw everybody, which usually means eventually they get static and are overwhelmed. As soon as they start wrestling with an uke, its all over. The ladies take a very different - and I think superior - approach to randori. They don't get hung up on downing everyone but instead are thinking more of avoidance. This attitude typically means that they last longer in randori (provided, of course, they are observing the other basic strategies for randori). Its quite amusing to me to see how baffled the new guys who try randori for the first time are when, after all their struggling and wrestling they have been quickly overcome, they see Jamie, who is all of 100lbs. control the same uke quite handily without ever getting swarmed. They don't understand at all, of course, that it is primarily attitude that makes the difference. 

Oookay. That's enough blathering for now. 

Ciao.]]></body>
	<date>03-19-2008</date>
</blogEntry>

<blogEntry id="3163">
	<title><![CDATA[Tuesday night punching and pushing.]]></title>
	<body><![CDATA[Last night we were upstairs in the gymnasium - without our mats - and so we worked on the usual sorts of things that don't require a soft surface to land on. We swung, and twirled, and flipped our jo staffs around for a bit and then moved on to empty-hand practice. 

I thought my students (and I) could benefit from some striking-focused practice so I began the class by running them through punches from full extension, then half extension, and then punches over mere inches.

Of course, before I got them smacking their fists into things I ran them through a series of exercises designed to help them feel some connection between their legs and hips and arms and increase flexibility in the shoulders and upper torso. Some were better at connecting, relaxing and flexing than others. It is still surprising to me to see how apparently unnatural it is for people (or my students, at least) to be loose through their upper torso. Most of my students have considerable amounts of tension through their shoulders and chest of which I believe they are mostly unaware. Even when I point out their tension, they are still often unable to release it. This isn't to say that they aren't improving -- they are, but there is still some way to go yet. I should say that my students really are a game bunch. The exercises I have them do to develop flexibility through the upper body are strange both in appearance and feel yet none of them balk at attempting them. You should see, though, the faces some of them make as they contort their bodies and strain to relax! Quite a show, I can tell you! 

The punching practice was...interesting. The best striker in the class is Jamie. She's had some boxing training, which is evident in the way she delivers her punches. The rest of my students vary across a wide spectrum of ability. Some are stiff and jerky; others are too noodly; still others are just trying to work out the correct mechanics of the movement. Most commonly, students were over-rotating, telegraphing, and shifting weight side to side as they twisted their hips to punch. As time passes, though, there is less and less of this that I see. The strikes I was encouraging my students to do last night were not the karate-style, reverse-punch type, nor the boxing-style jabs, crosses, hooks, etc. (though we do practice these at times), nor are they yokomenuchi, shomenuchi, tsuki, but a more sinuous, relaxed whip-like punch that has almost no shoulder involvement (as far as power generation is concerned) at all. I prefer to practice these kinds of punches more than the others because they require greater upper-body flexibility and relaxation and rely more on the transference of energy from the feet and legs and hips up to the hands. They can be a real bugger to do well, though. 

I moved my students into paired practice after they had punched off the first few layers of skin from their knuckles. I had the attacker slowly throw punches from every angle. While evading, the defender strikes the attacking arm, [I]squarely[/I] hitting it anywhere along its surface. The speed of this practice is wonderfully self-regulating. When a student gets going too fast, an equally fast punch on their bicep, tricep or wrist has a strong braking effect on the next strike they make: A fast, well-placed blow on the biceps hurts like the dickens! 

Once their arms were nicely tenderized, I got my students working on slowly evading (not blocking or deflecting with arms) a straight push from their partner and following the pushing arm in as it retreated. They were to do this with three consecutive pushes at which point they should have moved in and through their partners center with their own taking their balance. Really, it was possible to move into the center of the one who was pushing after just one push, but I wanted my students to be focused more on moving with their partners energy than anything else. Moving with three pushes before taking the center emphasized this part of the practice. To further challenge the one being pushed, I asked that he/she not step back in order to accomplish their goal. 

After a time, I added a layer to this paired exchange by allowing pushes from any angle and soft arm deflections from the one being pushed. The final stage (we'd have gone further if we'd had more time) involved the "pushee" (as opposed to the pusher) moving as in earlier exchanges but now also striking. Ideally, strikes were to be done simultaneously with the evasion and from a variety of angles to a wide range of targets. 

The class seemed to go well. Lots of smiles and a few laughs. Nobody got hurt (except for the odd bruised bicep). I gave my students a chance at the end of class to share what they were discovering in practice and it was very encouraging to me hear their insights. Gary remarked on how it felt to him like he was completing a sort of "circle of energy" when he would turn inside a push and strike. Others mentioned how much of a difference it made to their actions to think of being calm, relaxed and [I]assertive[/I] rather than calm, relaxed and passive. Not being able to retreat in the pushing exercises encouraged this distinction for them.  

Anyway, there's a day in the life of Open Sky Aikikai. Until later -- gambatte okudasai!]]></body>
	<date>03-19-2008</date>
</blogEntry>


</blogEntries>