"I Didn't Throw You. You Fell Down."
This memorable encounter happened many years ago. I was probably a sankyu (blue belt).
Mike and I were still living in Hong Kong. We decided to spend a long weekend in Tokyo. Practicing at Aikido Hombu Dojo was an indispensable part of the program. As usual, we got up early to attend the 6:30am class. The current Doshu was still Waka Sensei. He taught the early morning session on behalf of his father.
We were all lined up sitting in seiza (Japanese traditional style of sitting) waiting for class to start. Someone was sticking out like a sore thumb. A middle age man was not sitting. He was on his hands and knees. "Am I the only person who noticed?" I looked around: Nobody else seemed to be paying attention to him.
Practice started. People paired up. The gentleman turned to bow to me. I bowed back and got up. It took a long time for him to stand up. It took even longer time for him to move over to a spot where we could practice. A baby just learning to walk could move faster than him. "Oh my God! He cannot even walk! How are we going to practice?' I kicked myself for not being more careful when I sat down on the mat. I tried to be discreet and not show any disdain for my handicapped parter for the hour . . .
The gentleman struggled very hard to move himself, but he never lost his smile. Since he was wearing a hakama and I didn't, I proceeded to attack him by grabbing his wrist.
He stood there to look at me with a smile and did nothing. I smiled back and waited for him to do his technique. It felt like an eternity had gone by while we were standing there. Still, he did nothing. I was a little confused. "Have I missed anything? Did I do anything wrong? What is going on?" I decided that maybe I should hold harder to indicate to my partner that I was ready.
The gentleman continued to stand there holding his hand out towards me. His smile had not changed a bit. One moment, I felt that I was pushing at his center really strong. The next moment, suddenly, I felt like all my strength was leaching out of my body. I was losing my composure bit by bit. I was falling down!
It was a surreal experience. My partner was standing in seemingly the same exact posture like before. Somehow, the integrity of my structure just vaporized into thin air. Like watching a car crash in super slow-mo, the world started tilting little by little in front of my eyes. The mat got closer and closer to my face, until I could not hold myself up anymore and I fell flat on the ground. No matter what, I could not resist it. It was a disgustingly helpless feeling.
Mr Smiley bent over, supporting himself with his hands on his knees, "Are you okay? I didn't throw you. You fell down! Get up. Let's try again."
As you probably guessed, the same thing happened again. "Did you eat breakfast? Maybe you need to use two hands!" At this point, I was very sure he made me fall down. I just didn't know how. I held him down real good with both hands in my strongest, stable stance. I am happy to report that all that extra effort paid off by extending my upright time by a couple seconds.
"How do you like it?" Mr Smiley chuckled. I picked myself up and, with a humbled look in my eyes, bowed to Mr Smiley, "No, I don't like it at all. Please teach me."
"Oh, okay. But it is now your turn," Mr Smiley held my wrist gently. I thought I was going to do the technique Waka Sensei showed. However, I soon realized that, somehow, I could not move my arm. Before I knew it, I was falling down like I did when I was uke. I looked up only to find Mr Smiley laughing happily. He must find the whole thing entertaining.
I have no recollection of what Waka Sensei taught that morning because, for the rest of the class, all I got to do was to try to fall down less quickly, regardless of the role I was in.
When practice was over, I met Mr Smiley in the lobby again. He was talking to Mike. I stood there politely to listen in, holding my hands in front of body. Mr Smiley turned to smile at me. He put an index finger lightly over the back of my hand as he continued to chat. I was not paying much attention to it until I wanted to shift my position.
I could not move my feet.
"Oh, he is doing that thing to me again!" I thought I would move my hand away to escape him, but, somehow, there was no way I could shake away his finger! He was only touching me super lightly, but I was stuck in place.
Eventually, I begged at him like a pitiful puppy, "Please . . . let me go." Mr Smiley smiled a big smile at me, "Oh! Excuse me . . ." He lifted his finger; I was freed. I stepped two giant steps away from him.
We later came to find out that Mr Smiley had been going to Hombu 6:30am class every single day for thirty five years rain or shine. He also had his own dojo in Tokyo. I have encountered a lot of Aikido practitioners. I have never met anybody else who does what he did to me.
Mr Smiley's real name is Inakoshi. If you go to Hombu Dojo, please try to seek him out. Inakoshi Sensei has since had his knee surgery. If you find an older man sitting on a small folding stool when everybody is sitting in seiza, you know it is him.
Mike and I were still living in Hong Kong. We decided to spend a long weekend in Tokyo. Practicing at Aikido Hombu Dojo was an indispensable part of the program. As usual, we got up early to attend the 6:30am class. The current Doshu was still Waka Sensei. He taught the early morning session on behalf of his father.
We were all lined up sitting in seiza (Japanese traditional style of sitting) waiting for class to start. Someone was sticking out like a sore thumb. A middle age man was not sitting. He was on his hands and knees. "Am I the only person who noticed?" I looked around: Nobody else seemed to be paying attention to him.
Practice started. People paired up. The gentleman turned to bow to me. I bowed back and got up. It took a long time for him to stand up. It took even longer time for him to move over to a spot where we could practice. A baby just learning to walk could move faster than him. "Oh my God! He cannot even walk! How are we going to practice?' I kicked myself for not being more careful when I sat down on the mat. I tried to be discreet and not show any disdain for my handicapped parter for the hour . . .
The gentleman struggled very hard to move himself, but he never lost his smile. Since he was wearing a hakama and I didn't, I proceeded to attack him by grabbing his wrist.
He stood there to look at me with a smile and did nothing. I smiled back and waited for him to do his technique. It felt like an eternity had gone by while we were standing there. Still, he did nothing. I was a little confused. "Have I missed anything? Did I do anything wrong? What is going on?" I decided that maybe I should hold harder to indicate to my partner that I was ready.
The gentleman continued to stand there holding his hand out towards me. His smile had not changed a bit. One moment, I felt that I was pushing at his center really strong. The next moment, suddenly, I felt like all my strength was leaching out of my body. I was losing my composure bit by bit. I was falling down!
It was a surreal experience. My partner was standing in seemingly the same exact posture like before. Somehow, the integrity of my structure just vaporized into thin air. Like watching a car crash in super slow-mo, the world started tilting little by little in front of my eyes. The mat got closer and closer to my face, until I could not hold myself up anymore and I fell flat on the ground. No matter what, I could not resist it. It was a disgustingly helpless feeling.
Mr Smiley bent over, supporting himself with his hands on his knees, "Are you okay? I didn't throw you. You fell down! Get up. Let's try again."
As you probably guessed, the same thing happened again. "Did you eat breakfast? Maybe you need to use two hands!" At this point, I was very sure he made me fall down. I just didn't know how. I held him down real good with both hands in my strongest, stable stance. I am happy to report that all that extra effort paid off by extending my upright time by a couple seconds.
"How do you like it?" Mr Smiley chuckled. I picked myself up and, with a humbled look in my eyes, bowed to Mr Smiley, "No, I don't like it at all. Please teach me."
"Oh, okay. But it is now your turn," Mr Smiley held my wrist gently. I thought I was going to do the technique Waka Sensei showed. However, I soon realized that, somehow, I could not move my arm. Before I knew it, I was falling down like I did when I was uke. I looked up only to find Mr Smiley laughing happily. He must find the whole thing entertaining.
I have no recollection of what Waka Sensei taught that morning because, for the rest of the class, all I got to do was to try to fall down less quickly, regardless of the role I was in.
When practice was over, I met Mr Smiley in the lobby again. He was talking to Mike. I stood there politely to listen in, holding my hands in front of body. Mr Smiley turned to smile at me. He put an index finger lightly over the back of my hand as he continued to chat. I was not paying much attention to it until I wanted to shift my position.
I could not move my feet.
"Oh, he is doing that thing to me again!" I thought I would move my hand away to escape him, but, somehow, there was no way I could shake away his finger! He was only touching me super lightly, but I was stuck in place.
Eventually, I begged at him like a pitiful puppy, "Please . . . let me go." Mr Smiley smiled a big smile at me, "Oh! Excuse me . . ." He lifted his finger; I was freed. I stepped two giant steps away from him.
We later came to find out that Mr Smiley had been going to Hombu 6:30am class every single day for thirty five years rain or shine. He also had his own dojo in Tokyo. I have encountered a lot of Aikido practitioners. I have never met anybody else who does what he did to me.
Mr Smiley's real name is Inakoshi. If you go to Hombu Dojo, please try to seek him out. Inakoshi Sensei has since had his knee surgery. If you find an older man sitting on a small folding stool when everybody is sitting in seiza, you know it is him.
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