When Less Is More

It is Tuesday weapons night.  Takeguchi Sensei has us do jo-tori (responses to attempts of seizure of one's wooden staff).  At this round, we are doing the equivalent of shihonage when the uke (attacker) is holding onto my jo.  I can sort of do it, but there is something I always find awkward.  Something I do disrupts the flow of movement.  What do I do?  What is it?

After struggling for almost half an evening, suddenly some light bulb goes off in my head!

For those of you who do not practice Aikido, if you can picture this in your head: I am standing there holding a long stick in front of me with both hands, and my partner is standing in front of me gripping onto the other end of my stick also with both hands.  I am supposed to keep my end of the stick in front of me as I move through the center point between my partner and me.  During this process, the stick spins in space, as my partner and I trade positions.  Because of this switch, the attacker will end up arching backwards and falls.

As the name of the technique goes, "Shihonage" literally means "Four Direction Throw", you can pretty much throw any direction.   It really depends on the direction you choose to take as you go through the center.  So, the question is: Which direction should I go?

For the longest time, just like a typical human being, I tried to find some pattern to follow and use something as reference.  Between me and my partner, there was nothing but a stick.  I guess that was how I chose to follow the plane of the line as I moved.  Sensei never told me to follow that line, but I did -- for many years.  I had virtually unlimited choices in front of me, but I chose to walk a certain awkward way for many years.  Why?  Just because that was where the stick was for a brief moment.

When I finally understand that, when Sensei said, "You push off your back foot and step forward", he meant exactly that, I could not help laughing.  There is nothing tangible or visible to guide you.  YOU are your own guide.  YOU are your own reference because I should be able to rely on my senses to simply step forward in the most comfortable and stable manner.  Guess what?  I chose to ignore my own feelings and had been an uncomfortable contortionist for years and kept doing it.  Can't help wondering what else I have been doing in my life that is along the same lines!

"Rigidity in movement comes from rigidity of the mind," said Endo Sensei at one of his seminars.  His words felt like a big, fat slap stick, to my thick, hard head.  Indeed, it explained a lot of why I was doing what I was doing in his class and beyond.

I shared the story with fellow Aikido students at the new year practice.  They asked the same questions I did:  Why is my mind so rigid?  What do I do to get rid of the rigidity of my mind?

A lot of times, to become better, we think we need to be more this and more that.  More, more, more. The more the better.  In this case, however, perhaps we should try something different and be less: less willful, less insistent, less presumptuous . . .






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