My cousin, who runs a karate school in San Jose, California, says that
the one who controls the distance in an encounter is the one who
controls the situation. One of the shihan of the Japan Aikido
Association, when asked about how, using aikido, to deal with a karate
practitioner, replied simply, "Maai."
We've all heard similar statements and all have been admonished during
training to be aware of the maai, often translated as combative
engagement distance, but perhaps more accurately rendered "combative
interval." When I first heard the word in a Tomiki aikido dojo in the
U.S., I thought it referred to a simple spatial relationship-the
distance at which I could, in a single movement, reach an opponent
with my attack. Conversely, I also discovered, it was the distance at
which an attacker could reach me!
What I didn't quite get at first was the extent to which this was not
one, but two, sometimes vastly different, distances. When my then
training partner, Meik Skoss, casually remarked, over coffee and
donuts after jukendo (bayonet Way) training one morning, "Of course,
you know that my maai in relation to you, will always be different
from yours to me-even though the distance between us is constant," I
nodded, and pretended to have the foggiest notion of what he was
talking about. It became clearer soon after when I met my friend Bill,
who is over six feet tall, in the company of his girlfriend, who is
five foot nothing. If the two of them were to stand side-by-side
facing me, at (Bill's) arms length away, I would be fully within
Bill's maai, and just outside of his girlfriend's. They would both be
in my maai. If Bill took one step back, he might very well be out of
my maai, yet I would still be within his. These differences are
naturally based on the length of each individual's arms and legs. Two
more elements, speed and timing (hyoshi) can also affect the effective
combative interval. What it all adds up to, is judging the constantly
changing maai, different for each individual and each type of attack,
is incredibly complicated. And of course, our teachers tell us, we
must learn to make this evaluation virtually subconsciously and
instantaneously.
One major benefit arising from training simultaneously, at least for a
time, in a number of different weapons systems, is a certain mental
flexibility regarding maai, which I believe takes longer to develop to
an equal level when studying only taijutsu. For example, in aikido
each encounter is utterly different, because each individual's body is
unique, and we must make a series of minute adjustments to take utmost
advantage of the maai and make it work. This is virtually impossible
for the beginning student to grasp, and many systems have implemented
a more basic, static style of training, so that students can get the
hang of techniques before being confronted with the full complexities
of maai. Training in a weapons system, however, introduces a weapon,
which is generally of a uniform length. My naginata is the same length
as Meik's naginata, and while differences in reach and ability to
cover distance still matter, they matter less and are easier to
isolate. The compensations one must make are clearer to see when
training with various partners because of the constant of the weapon.
Studying in several different weapons systems then, gives one the
chance to work on different maai, as defined by the length of each
weapon. More importantly, it teaches flexibility and
awareness. Earlier this year, I began going to jo training immediately
after practicing Toda-ha Buko-ryu naginata. At first, when I began to
use the jo, I would find my hand sliding off the end-I wanted more
jo-and I would drop one end of my weapon. I quickly decided this was a
bad idea, and rather than relying on a physical memory, or lapsing
into habit, I began to turn on a constant maai monitor-before doing
any technique, I would mentally check the length of my weapon. When I
started to learn tanken (short sword) after several years of juken
training, my thrusting attack was simply too shallow. My body knew
quite well how to do a thrust-but only with a weapon the length of a
bayonet.
These days I train in empty-handed techniques, and with tanto, tanken,
tachi, jo, juken, naginata, and yari, and I can switch between the
various maai (which are really all the same, but that's another story
for the future, when I figure it out) with a reasonable degree of
accuracy and efficiency. As a result, I feel much more comfortable and
confident in dealing with the ever changing maai of taijutsu.
Diane Skoss
Koryu Books
Copyright 1994, Diane Skoss. All rights reserved.
First printed in Aikido Journal.