David's Story
LEARNING THE WAY OF HARMONY
By David Johndrow
This year I turned 41. A few days before my birthday, I tested for my black-belt in Aikido. Now, reflecting on my long and sometimes difficult road to this point, I feel that although I am a little bit closer to understanding the essence of this wonderful art, I mostly feel like I have always felt¾that I have a long way to go toward any type of mastery. In fact, I am still trying to understand even its most basic aspects. That is not to say that I haven’t benefited from Aikido training. It has definitely changed my life and made me a better person. Aikido training has extended to all aspects of my life and has helped me to achieve a certain balance of thought and action. In fact, my struggle to grasp its meaning and application represents my continued quest for self -improvement (or as the founder called it “agatsu” or “self-victory”).
The inherent difficulty of Aikido, I think, reflects its depth as a martial art and a philosophical system. One thing that has been a constant in all of my years of training is the shifting perception of the very definitions of Aikido. This used to be a source of great frustration for me. It seemed that everyone had a different idea about what was “right” and what was “wrong,” Like most practitioners, I was looking at Aikido as a problem to be solved. My first few years, I was looking to learn the “best” way to do techniques: that is, techniques that “worked” to control, and usually cause pain to, an attacker. Ideas about love and harmony were high ideals best left to the founder who was thought to be super-human. I was viewing Aikido mostly in physical terms. Now I know that there is much more to training than learning the best way to bend someone’s wrist. To train at a higher level requires one to change ones attitudes and perceptions as well. It is humbling to realise that the nature of Aikido is infinite and that training enables one to reach into the very deepest parts of one’s self .
When I first saw Aikido, something went off inside of me and I knew I found what I had been looking for for a long time¾a practice that involved physical movement and also had a spiritual and philosophical aspect as well. I had long been interested in spiritual ideas and had been practicing meditation as a way to self-improvement. As a member of a flotation tank club, I was using sensory deprivation to try and free my mind from distractions. Despite its calming effects, I was still feeling unenergetic and unsatisfied. At about this time there was an article I read about Bio-energetics that said that it was impossible to change behaviors and feelings by just dealing with the mind. It went on to state that these patterns were habits that are locked in the body. This made immediate sense to me and so I went for some sessions. Right away it was clear to me that I had been neglecting my physical self and I needed to do something about it. First, I started doing yoga, then I signed up for a summer Tai-chi course. While I enjoyed these practices and felt great benefit, somehow they didn’t seem enough. Then, one day as I was browsing in a bookstore, I saw a videotape showing an Aikido demonstration. I was fascinated. It seemed to have everything I was looking for: the practice was with a partner, but there was no sparring. The movement was fluid and graceful, but very coordinated and powerful. The speaker talked about resolving conflict through blending and centeredness. Within a week I found a school and was signed up. Right away, it had an effect on me. For the first time ever my body felt really alive. I felt more connected to the world, my perceptions were expanded and sharpened, and I felt more confident and relaxed. It seemed I had a natural ability and was doing well.
Then, after a few years, I started to loose my confidence. It seemed like practice always contained an element of competition (when Aikido is supposed to be free of competition). Everyone was always resisting everyone’s technique to see if it “worked.” This tended to make practice very stiff and painful. People were alway struggling with each other with a very “me vs. him” mind-set. This seemed to go against all of the higher ideals that the founder talked about. Still, I stuck it out.
In 1992, I was offered the chance to go to Tokyo for four months to teach English. This meant that I could study Aikido at the World Headquarters. This turned out to be a turning point for me. Right away the training was very difficult and I didn’t make many friends. I usually got stuck with the people that no one wanted to train with, and I would be pummeled for an hour (at Hombu Dojo you usually don’t switch partners). Usually, the most violent people were the least friendly. Sometimes, I was so personally ignored by my partner that I felt like a workout bag. When I did receive instruction, it was almost always that I was too stiff and was using too much of my upper body. Why hadn’t anyone told me this before? Was this stiffness the result of so much resistance training? Occasionally, I trained with someone who was truly amazing. Often, I couldn’t grasp what they were doing, but I felt they were affecting my energy and balance effortlessly; and with no muscle strength and no pain! They seemed soft and yet, at the same time, impenetrable. Not coincidentally, they were also usually nice people. Harmony, balance, non-competitiveness-now, I began to understand. All of the ideas that I had read about really did mean something. Because Hombu Dojo contained all of the extreme types of people and practice, I was able to see which way I wanted to go.
When I got home, I finally decided to leave my old school and commit to training with some friends, one of whom was a san-dan with extensive training in Japan, with whom I had been training on the side. What I didn’t forsee was the difficulty I would have changing all of my old habits, both mental and physical. I practically had to start over to unlearn my previous attitudes and methods. Relaxation and softness were the biggest obstacles and required an act of faith on my part to learn. Once I began to feel the power of actually connecting with my partner and blending with her movement, I never missed my old style of training. Now, I try to train with an open mind, trusting what my teacher is saying without judging it to be “correct”or “effective.” I’m trying to view Aikido training as an ongoing process with no end goal.
So, as a shodan, I feel as if I have grasped, not the meaning of Aikido, but the proper way to practice at the most fundamental level. Now, every class feels like a totally new experience, a new opportunity for growth and change. Also, it’s a lot more fun. It’s true what I always heard teachers say about getting a black-belt; that it is really just the beginning.