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[elementsaikido]

“Pardon Me...”

They say acceptance sets you free. And there’s plenty of experience here to say that it will at least set you on that path. But one thing it will never fucking do is take away this insatiable desire that I experience in my whole system to get back to touch—back to affirmative, physical input. 

Katate-dori, ryokata-dori, a hand shake, an arm around the shoulder, or god forbid...a hug. Jesus H. Christ, I feel it from head to toe. I wanna “accidentally” bump into people at Home Depot just so I can feel it. “Pardon me,” I’d say. “I was just trying to reach that pneumatic hammer drill.” I wanna get poured into a vat of half-naked, freshly showered people and dance together like we’re merging liquids. Which is strange, because I don’t like crowds at all. I feel the need to suck it up here, though. Get that hit of input and head straight for the ladder out. By the way, you know the “H” stands for “Harold,” right? It’s how Jesus honored his Jewish roots before he became a white Border Patrol agent in Texas. Ironic, since 30% of the people he busts are named for him.

Back to acceptance... Sure, I can accept the conditions. And when I can’t, I can accept that I don’t accept the conditions. Huh? But the feeling itself—that sensation that craves the sensation of affirmative contact is never really satisfied these days. Working through the distance of a jo is interesting and fun, but it’s still just like a pacifier. It’s fine until the baby gets hungry and discovers that no fucking milk is coming from this thing. 

I’ll live with it. Frankly, during these pandemic times, in these “united” states, I’m just happy to still have a house that hasn’t burned down, and a nice bunch of people who still wanna train however we can. I’m blessed in this way. I do wonder, though, if other people experience this at all. For me it’s almost constant. Maybe it’s because of all the years (34 now, I think) of working with and through relational contact. Or maybe it’s because as a young adult, through the physicality of being an uke or nage, I finally learned how to relate to people. Maybe it was sustaining me this whole time. Or maybe it’s something far more psychologically ominous. 

I don’t actually give a damn why. For me, contact is fundamental—not just to the art of Aikido, but also to being human. I’m sure at some point things will change and we’ll once again be able to explore, practice, and live through contact. For now, though, try not to judge me when I say that this consequence of the pandemic is turning out to be one the bitchier ones. 

[elementsaikido]

It’s About The Creative Impulse

I consider our classes to be reasonably covid-safe under current conditions. We are outdoors, masked, and working the uke-nage relationship through a jo. We rarely touch, but we are not always at least 6 feet apart from each other. And that last piece has been enough for many people to avoid live training. So, Saturday we had a class designated as a “social-distance” session so that a few more people would feel safer about it. 

It was nice to see a few more faces (if half the face counts). It was nice to feel the grass under my feet and nice to move in the open, breezy shade. It was nice to teach a class with more than 8 people there for the first time in a while. And it was nice to present a few Dan certificates that were earned in a previous life. It was just...nice. In all the niceness nicely being nice, though, a couple of observations came to me.

We don’t wear uniforms. There are no indications of rank. There is no shomen, no picture of O-Sensei, no cultural reminders anywhere that point uniquely to the art of aikido. For now, under the circumstances, I like it that way. The lack of cultural symbology does change the feeling of things, though, for better or worse, depending on what you value. I’m still discovering how that’s gonna play out at the community level, and I’ve already decided that I’m okay with wherever it lands us, so long as the art’s principles, work, and teacher-student relationship remains honored. 

How this changes the feeling of training is difficult to describe, but I’ll try by exaggerating it slightly. Imagine you’ve been working in a structured corporate setting for years. There’s a dress code, titles and roles, pictures of beloved old-white-guy founders hanging in the halls, etc. Anyway, the economy tanks, Old White Guy, Inc. doesn’t get bailed out and loses its building because they didn’t contribute to the President’s re-election campaign, and now they meet and do business in the local community parks...in their pajamas. Grace, the middle-aged administrator who’s actual face no one has ever seen under all the makeup, and who happens to also be the Radar O’Reilly of the company starts showing up at the park late and in her bathrobe. Every day she sits on the grass under a tree, adjusts her rack, and says, “Tsup?” Fifteen minutes later she remembers that she’s there for a reason. That feels different, doesn’t it? Does it matter? I don’t know yet.

From a teaching perspective, a certain amount of freedom (within the confines of covid-reasonable training) has found its way to me. In the absence of all the aikido symbology and reminders of tradition, I’ve been more willing than usual to experiment, play with ideas, and see, without preparation, where a practice will lead to. This is the part of the work that seems to sustain me, so for now, I’ve determined that’s what is most important—the creative impulse. How we can explore that is limited right now, but the impulse itself has no limitations. I’m hanging on to that for the time being. Without it, Aikido might as well remain at the same address that Old White Guy, Inc. used to occupy, and I’d probably go off the deep end of despair. Enough for today.

[elementsaikido]

Two Things

No one knows what’s next, and the unpredictable, irregular nature of life these days has really highlighted it. Makes me wonder why I even bother with the idea of “next” anymore. But there it is, because it turns out that choice is a thing. 

Events happen, and rather suddenly, something fundamental or taken for granted isn’t the same anymore. The floor drops from underneath you and leaves a WTF in your system for days, weeks, months. And there it is...still. What’s next?

When that happens and there really isn’t any history, precedent, or road map to speak of, you are in the land of The-only-two-fucking-things-you-can-do-about-anything...

Your best, most informed effort, and Trust. 

I am relearning this at a new level, which after a substantial period of dread and despair, has opened a door to continuing the work of Aiki in a way that moves forward. I don’t think I’d want to keep teaching if I always felt that it was just to hold on, survive, keep the status quo stable enough for “some day.” To be honest, that’s what some of the dread was about. This is a matter of purpose. And pandemic or not, I don’t feel done yet. 

So what does my best, most informed effort mean? It means taking some inventory. Checking on why the hell I’m still here, doing this, and what I want from it. It means assessing what I actually have going for me, and what supports me. It means being clear and honest about what I’m willing (and not willing) to let go of in order to move myself, the art, and the community forward. It means all that, and then just doing it wholeheartedly.

And what does Trust mean? I don’t know exactly. But it seems to have something to do with the “middle way” of intention and allowing. There is where and how you extend your energy, and there’s the acceptance of the course it runs as it’s running. It’s the courage to remain aligned with intention, the pragmatic opposite of fear, and the willingness to build the airplane while you’re flying it! It’s not based on nothing. I remember hearing a clip from the current Pope, whatever his name is. I’m paraphrasing, but while talking about prayer, he said something to the effect, “First you pray, then you do something about it. That’s how prayer works.” He may be one of those funny-hat-wearing cult figures, but he seems to know something about Trust as far as I’m concerned. I’m not a prayer person myself, but its purpose seems to be to cultivate trust.

Think I’ll leave it on that slightly irreverent note and revisit this more completely another day. There’s a lot of personal details to fill in, and much to chew on still.

[elementsaikido]

About This Blog

I’ll be frank. We’re here because of Covid-19. I wouldn’t be doing this if everything was “normal” and the dojo as our physical home was still in our immediate future. It’s not. But things are as they are, and putting aside the fact that the country has an infantile fuck-twit calling shots that have resulted in the end of a whole lot more than aikido dojos, I am learning to live with reality as it is.

Even before the national non-response to the pandemic, I sometimes wondered what Aikido would be like if we took it out of the dojo and practiced in parks and in natural settings--free of the usual containment, ideal conditions, cultural symbols, etc. Inevitably, the part of my brain that identifies with tradition begins to throb. Nonetheless, here I am now, because there seems to be a force in the universe that wants me to explore an approach to aikido that is not just practiced outdoors, but also informed and inspired by nature itself. And that’s what I’m gonna do.

I guess this blog is a kind of journal of the process. A dojo community moving forward, literally without walls. And my process as an aikido teacher pioneering a new way under new circumstances. Maybe you’ll be part of it.

I haven’t done much writing since I wrote my crazy little book 5 or so years ago. The inspiration to express in words just hasn’t been there. I do write down ideas still, but they rarely get developed into more words. I get an idea, I run it through the system, and I write down the basics.  It’s a simple salad with a little bit of Dave-ness for dressing. The dressing is never served on the side, so if a little grit, tongue-and-cheek, and foul language isn’t your thing, I’m sorry in advance. Actually, I’m not sorry, but I do wish you were able to appreciate it. Expect blog entries here to be short (it will never outlast the most regular of bowel movements), to the point (unless it isn’t), and with some fun attitude. Commitment on your part is low here. It’s not a Ken Wilber book. I do hope, though, that it makes you think, see, feel, and smile a little more as I discover what the hell I am doing in this largely uncharted territory week to week.