Hello and thank you for visiting AikiWeb, the
world's most active online Aikido community! This site is home to
over 22,000 aikido practitioners from around the world and covers a
wide range of aikido topics including techniques, philosophy, history,
humor, beginner issues, the marketplace, and more.
If you wish to join in the discussions or use the other advanced
features available, you will need to register first. Registration is
absolutely free and takes only a few minutes to complete so sign up today!
I've had a bit of a scare recently. I will not be fine (who among us will be, really?), but I'm a lot better off than I feared.
The past week was difficult. I had just started outlining a twenty-year plan for my life and career from 47 to 67. I'd ordered a stack of interesting books, and made a list of mentors to talk to. There were things to learn, possibilities to investigate... Exciting stuff.
Then I stumbled onto what sounded like some very bad news during a routine physical. Suddenly the future didn't look like it was going to be much fun. I don't scare easily, but I've never been so afraid.
It was like being in a hurricane, struck by new information and realizations like 2x4s hurled in the wind. In that hurricane, Aikido was the deeply-rooted tree I was clinging to. Friday night's class (see my previous post about it) could not have come at a better time or been more perfect. (How does Sensei do that?) Everything I've learned about meditation, breathing, staying present, being in my body, moving in, keeping my center... It all came into play. On Monday, when I should have been up in the mountains training my horse, I arranged for him to be turned out to play, and went to the dojo instead. Clinging to my sturdy tree. Another two classes last night kept me grounded.
Today I got test results that added up to very good news. More tests ahead, and ongoing management. But I was already doing that.
Aikido is probably the best thing I could have been doing for
I've really been enjoying training lately, even though I have been at the dojo somewhat less to make time to work with Rainy, my horse. I look forward to classes like a kid on Christmas morning. I'm having fun with Rainy, and we're progressing well, but I miss Aikido on the days I don't go.
The connections and similarities between Aikido and horsemanship go much deeper than I had expected. That will be the subject of my next column for "The Mirror" on AikiWeb, in June. I'm constantly making wonderful discoveries in that area, and hearing virtually the same words from my horsemanship teacher and Sensei. There have been a few jaw-dropping moments with each where all I could think was "did I really just hear them say that?"
For most of this spring, summer, and probably fall I am in a really wonderful place with respect to dojo life. I'm not close to testing (my next exam will be for 4th kyu), and I'm not advanced enough to mentor others. I don't have any seminars coming up. Nothing in particular is expected of me. I feel like bread dough that's been left in a warm, quiet place to rise. The ingredients are all there, and well mixed. There's nothing to do but let them expand and mature. Just train.
I can almost feel the synapses in my brain making new connections, as the discrete skills and pieces of information I've accumulated over the past year weave themselves together. Recently, after being off the mat for a few weeks with a minor muscle strain I felt like I'd bee
I am celebrating the completion of my first year in Aikido by staying home and fighting off a cold. I really wanted to be on the mat tonight. Instead I have the opportunity to practice writing with only half my brain engaged. My apologies if I ramble.
It's hard to believe it's already been a year, but it also seems like a lifetime. In some ways, it has been a lifetime. I am not the same person I was when I first stepped onto the mat.
It would be impossible to overstate my gratitude and admiration for my teacher, Dave Goldberg Sensei. He passes on the touch of the founder through his technique, speaks our dojo community into existence, and embodies a safe space for discovery and transformation. He demonstrates that one can be vulnerable and strong, gentle and effective, trusting, allowing, patient, generous... These have been more powerful lessons than any exercise or technique I've learned.
I have trained 155 days. I've participated in seminars and workshops. There was a dojo retreat, picnic, exam days, lunches, and parties. I've learned a little about Japanese culture and language, martial ethics and history, and met the most wonderful people. I reached my goal of losing 40 pounds, and on the whole am much healthier (the present cold notwithstanding) and stronger. I've developed some discipline in other areas where I had been, frankly, a slob about things. I still have a long way to go.
I've tested for 6th and 5th kyu. Whoever said your first test is the hardest