Aikido Reminders to Self

This is a list I have been adding to ever since I started aikido. It’s idiosyncratic. You’re eavesdropping on my mind, and I might not be able to explain what I mean by a particular line. But what are blogs for? If other aikidoka have such reminder lists, please post or link!

every time

• obtain and re-obtain a signal – relax/pay attention until you get one
• continuous breathing
• upright posture, comfortably standing, centered
• retain sword posture and extension/readiness
• imagine center in motion, often below ground, as on tightrope
• imagine circular saw with gyroscope at its center
• zanshin 360 (observe, interpret, relax, be attentive, see without looking)
• whole body/mind ready
• when time to act, no mind
• when finished, leave nothing behind
• ready to guard your center
• ready to move center in any direction
• blending, you disappear, then assert, like water undermining earth
• if you know the technique well, add ki flow, i.e., smoothness of motion, fluidity, natural reaction and compensation for uke’s micromovements

rising from the mat

• should be centered, easy, solid architecture, quick, with zanshin

simple sequence
zanshin – ma’ai – invite/hiss – blend, shift, blend, shift, … – break balance – keep off balance to ground – pin – release – zanshin

first contact

• unless it is a block, should be soft and stealthy, matching speed and rotation with the attack, contacting and hijacking uke’s momentum more than half way through its natural movement, when it is too late for uke to effectively resist
• first contact can be entering–with assertion of space via arm/ki/hara/atemi

atemi

• focus briefly and intently on the target of atemi – so that warning bells go off in uke’s mind
• occasionally go slow and actually hit uke if uke is not responding (are you not convincing or is uke not paying attention?)
• with rapid small shifts, find paths of no resistance and start coaxing toward ground
• try blend with vector, then shift it perpendicular along z-x plane, then downward along y-?, etc., in wave motion
• working backward from anticipated kazushi point, intend to resist along uke’s strong axis so that uke unconsciously feels and resists, then curve vector while gradually intensifying ‘push’ to spiral into kazushi point.
• ghost atemi: you can give off an atemi without actually initiating an attack (uke will stiffen or change posture slightly as reaction); play with how much of a feint it takes

balance-taking

• occupy the good angles
• incremental variable-speed conveyor belt carrying away uke’s balance
• turn hips in direction you want to channel uke’s momentum
• let hips lead your movements
• guide uke to kazushi points
• weight is dynamic, with multiple centers, vectors, rotations
• your weight can come down via uke
• rear kazushi points are generally more effective
• incorporate ki-flow (willow/water)

pins

• knee should come down to mat with inner shoulder
• heels together, up on toes
• wrap and control at elbow
• capture hand palm up in crook of elbow
• pressure and torque can be applied in either direction along path from shoulder to head (rotational perpendicular to that axis and generally with a feeling of into the ground)
• across and uptown is usually good
• think of what you are going to do next to set up the next attack/response

after pin

• move laterally into uke’s blind spot
• initiate the next attack/response; no downtime

physicality

• arms whiplike energy (dynamic tension, but with no tension)
• hands relaxed but awake
• grip like magnetic glue, not vise, starting with pinky
• wrists and forearms like 20′ sword/searchlights
• shoulders relaxed
• cat-like, but a big cat

ukemi

• punch/strike straight with first two knuckles
• keep eyes on nage amap, even when falling/rolling
• prolong the relationship
• bend
• use nage for support in slow ukemi
• ready to protect from / avoid atemi
• bend head toward nage in shiho nage
• turn head away in irimi nage
• tuck inner leg under
• how to fall softer
• relax as much as possible into pins
• follow nage with your center, staying upright
• attack intelligently — you are practicing your strikes and ability to seize opportunity

jiyu waza

• take time with each throw
• keep moving
• keep observing attackers
• keep all attackers in view AMAP
• throw each uke at attackers
• protect attackers
• pick and attack attackers
• split attackers
• learn direction of throw that follows from each technique, starting with the atemi

ma’ai

• forced commit (if uke tries to creep forward gets attacked)
• subvert uke’s next obvious move, and the next, and the next
• jam up uke’s fighting mechanism
• prevent uke’s natural rotation
• augment uke’s natural rotation
• reestablish presence in blind spot, just within or outside of uke’s peripheral vision

principles

• keep center
• relax and smile genuinely
• continuous 360 awareness
• rotation on multiple axes
• force begets force
• elbows in and down
• invite with open palm
• occasionally do the unpredicted and observe reactions
• snake hand
• one scoop
• if too fast, ratchet back the speed and seek more details
• half speed is close to the maximum you need for daily training
• move as if holding katana, or a medicine ball, or a pack
• move as if wearing a skirt
• lose the ego
• it’s a practice, not a contest, not a performance
• keep your attention constantly moving, internally and externally

my approach

• pragmatic
• simplified
• direct and crisp
• out of the blue – no tells
• anything could happen
• highly targeted atemi
• without ornament
• based on natural analogs (climbing, drinking, catching)

the best students are thieves

Razors in Fog

“A millimeter can determine who lives and who dies,” one of my teachers points out every so often.

The dojo is a riot of glare and shadow. Morning sunlight blasts through the wide open warehouse door, an empty promise of heat in the chill air. A gaggle of middle-aged jedi, we strike at each other with wooden swords called bokkens, our cold feet shuffling across frigid mats. Our teacher’s words give meaning to the practice, letting us know that swordsmanship is not about flourish or going through the motions. It is exacting. In a real fight steel flies faster than thought.

Her words bespeak our own fates and the fates of countless others. Seen through the lens of time, our motions are palimpsests of lessons learned in dojos and on battlefields centuries ago, endlessly repeated and varied. Thousands, perhaps millions of people have died due to mistakes in sword technique, and their surviving comrades have sometimes noted the mistakes and incorporated them into their art. This advice has been passed down by teachers who train their students to do things this way, not that way. The past is remembered and yet mutated by the inherent failures of transmission.

Sometimes we cannot grasp the meaning of the advice. Why should it be this way? Mimicking the motion feels robotic and empty. Other times you feel that you see the kinesthetic meaning instantly, and the advice passes into your personal repertoire without effort. Ironically, you may be stepping in a certain manner or holding the bokken in a certain way for entirely the wrong reasons. The teacher cannot know. She sees you doing it “right” or “wrong” and reacts accordingly. That is her role.

Does anyone do it “right”? I don’t think so. That is why it is an art. At best our teacher can help us to internalize her own high standards.

Rightness in an art is subjective, and pure transmission of technique is impossible. Whether we are hopeless dilettantes or dedicated, long-suffering students of an art, we are never perfect. A recent study of how the body learns motion showed that the brain simply does not store the full motion. Our minds and bodies improvise our movements every single time. It is actually impossible for a human being to repeat a motion in exactly the same manner.

It gets better though. Your eyes do not transmit actual images to your brain. Rather, they send a kind of multi-channel sketch, sort of the way an image can be separated into red, green, and blue,, except that there are more than ten channels with complex interactions between the different signals. The brain reads shorthand and from these signals, then imagines reality. Our other senses probably work in similar ways. The data directly from reality is compressed and abbreviated to optimize its transmission along the nerves. Then, like a game of telephone, your brain weaves a story. The philosopher Daniel Dennett suggests that you might not even be capable of voluntary actions, but that your massively parallel brain tells a sequential story of your actions right after you perform them.

Whether we have free will or are essentially a herd of so many zombies, lots of significant things in life do come down to minutes, millimeters, or other small, unforgiving increments. This is the nightmare of the neurotic. Every action counts, every decision could have irrevocable consequences. There are a number of moments, daily for some people (soldiers, politicians, surgeons, police officers), that carry razor-like significance. Of course, in our cushioned modern world, this is usually not the case for the individual, which makes those moments even more difficult to spot.

A few months ago I missed one and have been living with the consequences. The fallout has been truly educational, though I have not enjoyed the lessons. It has taken months to pull things back together. I do believe that the lessons of basic ukemi and jiyu waza practice helped keep me sane during that time, but ultimately these are just a set of strategies. Under actual “attack,” you don’t have time to think. You just do. Curiously, this has not been an occasion for regrets or much self-recrimination. When I play back the sequence of events, I cannot see how things might have unfolded differently. We were dealing with a new baby and were thoroughly distracted. Yet it did come down to minute differences in timing. A few millimeters of bad luck, essentially.

So, imprecise, involuntary, possible-zombie denizens of our easy, mediated world, learn to pay attention. Little things do count.

The cold sunlight stabs my eyes, hiding my partner’s bokken. I have to reach out with all my senses. He carries out the prescribed attack, the and crack of wood and sense of martial balance at play feels absolutely real and crisp. I know that what my brain has put together is not real, but I’ll embrace it anyway. Somewhere, very very close, all of this did happen. For real.

got a signal?

Ask yourself this question often.

If you don’t have a signal,

If you’re not communicating,

If you don’t give and take,

If the ambassadors have been recalled,

If you don’t make eye contact,

If the damn thing’s not plugged in,

If you don’t take a chance,

… ain’t nuthin’ good gonna happen.