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This poem and others are available in my books, Nothing Works: Meditations on Aikido, Buddhism, the Tao, Zen, and other inconsequential things....and, Nothing Special, and Nothing Matters..., available thru Amazon.com, in print and Kindle editions and Barnes & Noble websites.....Also available as an e-book via Smashwords.com. Try this link: www.nothing-works.com for the full array of options.
When I practice Aikido
I can't help but think
Of Venn diagrams
(You, too, right?!)
Of nage and uke
Disparate circles - merging
The set of me (nage)
Intersecting with set (uke)
N ∩ U -
The overlapping regions depicting
A set of possible outcomes
I automatically drop down
To Euler diagrams
Eliminating non-relevant options
Allowing me to choose
A fitting technique and outcome -
Ah, if only I were so elegant!
Duration, with no sense of time
I sit, and sit, just sit
Thoughts gone, feelings gone
Even pain gone
Duration
Transition back to real time
Is obvious, is now
But, where I have been
How I got back
Is still to me, a mystery
Night air pours through the open window
I lie in bed waiting for the moon to rise
And shower me in silver illumination
This is our time, when you will come to me
Aiki never resists
Yet is always victorious
It speaks about a harmonious joining
Of spirit and energies
Perhaps of directed intent
Of a strong Kiai!
It speaks of internal power
Of integrated, whole body force
Ah, aiki, so elusive…
Perhaps that is its ultimate meaning
Of fitting together all these definitions
Such that adaptation is true aiki Aiki-do -- The Way of Adaptation?
Perhaps…
Any talent at all
Is a gift to treasure
But, to be tactless
His greatest gift was
Just showing up
He tried, he tried hard
He improved, but improved
Without any real potential
He wasn't going to be a star
And, he knew it
Still, where was the bar set?
He was friendly, obeyed the rules
And showed up, was always there
Each class was painful
Was a deep physical and
Psychological struggle
But, he persevered
He showed up
Years later, when he taught
His own struggle and patience
He bestowed on his students
He became one of the dojos
Very best instructors
Even now, the best lesson he teaches
Is just: show up!
With bell sounds gone
No left one to maintain the old traditions
River stones set in the tokonoma
Slowly covering in dust
Achieving silent perfection on their own
Cold air from broken windows stir
The weeds growing in the tatami edges
Over the years I remember most
The silence of bells
When, finally, everyone left
04-07-2018 02:10 PM 
