It's A Lot Like Dancing

Recently, at a seminar, I ran into a beginner I have not seen for years.  She tells me about difficulties she is encountering in learning Aikido.  She is upset about her slow progress.  "I can't remember the sequences.  I have a hard time learning techniques," she says in a very discouraged voice.

I was astonished when she told me that it has been six years since I met her.  I remember her being a total beginner.  Although she was often lost during practice, I was very impressed that she came to a strange dojo for a seminar all by herself.

"Even though I did not get to pair up with you, I saw you earlier.  You have improved!  You have made much progress." I try to send some words of encouragement her way.  "Really?  I feel like I am still so bad at it."  She is not convinced.

"You look at yourself from the inside, but we -- your teachers, your fellow students see you from the outside.  From this different perspective, we see things you don't.  Just trust me that you are actually doing quite well."  I see signs that her frown is beginning to dissipate.  "You know, I was a horrible beginner.  I could not even remember what the attack was once the demo was over.  I continued to be that way even after I got my black belt.  I have a student who is even more extreme than me: it took him five years to finally get his a 5th kyu . . ."

"What?  That's a little extreme, isn't it?" she utters.  "Well, maybe.  But it is what it takes for this guy.  Guess what?  He is totally happy with it because he is doing things he likes to do at the pace he can.  Everybody is on their own path at their own pace.  There is not much one can do to change it."  I shrug my shoulders.

"I just wish it doesn't take me that long to learn everything . . ." She looks dejected.  

"Aikido is simple but not easy.  If it is too easy, maybe it would not be as intriguing and interesting.  If the process is too fast, perhaps there would not be enough time for us to reflect on ourselves and draw insights from our practice.  Spiritual growth is just as important as one's physical abilities.  Honestly, I don't think you are missing anything."

"Really?  You think?" She finally gives me a smile.  "Yeah, I truly do.  Just look at me, the terrible beginner.  It took me a long time to become what I am now.  I am not very good at it yet, but I learn to do a few things.  There is hope in me.  So, there must be a lot of hope in you."  I pat her on the shoulder.  The young lady cracks up and pats me back on the shoulder, "Oh, you know more than a few things!"

"Have you heard of a teacher named Terry Dobson?  He wrote a book called It's A Lot Like Dancing.  Aikido is like dancing  . . .  in more than one way.  How often do you dance just in order to get to the end of it?  Most of us dance for the entire process.  Every moment of the process is just as important and precious.  The practice of Aikido is for self improvement.  It is self actualization.  Not only the triumphant moments help us learn about ourselves and improve ourselves.  Even the frustrating and discouraging experiences, struggles we have to work through are meant to help us grow into stronger people.  There is really no reason to rush."

Her eyes are all red.  "Do me a favor: please stop kicking yourself.  You may not have progressed as quickly as you like, but you have not given up.  You are still here.  You should give yourself plenty of credit for keep showing up.  It is already a major achievement.  My teacher, the late Kenneth Cottier Sensei used to say that everybody can get a black belt, as long as you keep practicing.  I am sure you will get there."

I had a great practice at the seminar.  And I got to top it off with a big, warm hug.  It really made my day.  I was grateful.