Simple But Not Easy

For a number of years, there has been an alarming concern in the Aikido community: there were no beginners.  It was as if people were not interested.  As existing practitioners continue to drop out because of age and other reasons, the population was not replenished with new blood.  It amounts to an existential crisis for many dojos.

Since the end of 2021, however, as if the universe announced it is Aikido Open Season, we have welcomed an unprecedented influx of new people.  Among them, were a teenager and his father.

Normally we do not take students that young, but, after a long conversation with the father, we decided to give it a try.  The pair first came to watch class.  Then, they took a class together.  They both watched class attentively and worked hard to imitate what was shown.  

After class, I asked the kid how it went.  "It was great.  I really had fun." He gave me a big smile as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.  "It's amazing that it looks so simple when you are watching.  You think it should be easy, right?  But then, when you get up and try to do it, it is actually very difficult!  I didn't expect that.  It is intriguing.  I like it."  

"It is more difficult than it seems and I like it"?!  I like this kid already.  

Many adults who came to try class found that out about Aikido, too.  Yet, most got too frustrated and never came back.  I talked to a few of them and they admitted that they were not quite ready to accept that they were so not good at something, and they would rather find something easier.  Even those visitors who practiced Aikido before kept saying to me how long it had been since they last trained, and what other activities they are good at, etc, etc,  . . . as if they need to justify their performance in class.  

So far, the new kid's response has been, "Wow, that was hard!  Can we do it again?  I want to try again."  As I gazed into the eyes of this wonderful young person, I cannot help wondering if he is just so super special, or that we, the adults, were all once like him, but that openness and optimism just vanished, somehow . . . 

Before I let the new kid go home, given his excitement, enthusiasm and his age, I have to remind him what the rules are.  

"Outside of class, you may not try it on your friends or your mother.  Even if your friends find out you are taking Aikido, they think it is so cool that they ask you to show them your moves, you may not do so -- no matter how careful, slow or gentle you think you can go about with it.  If they are curious and interested, tell them to come to the dojo to see it or try it for themselves.  Aikido is at its best when you are very relaxed and not being intentional.  People who are not trained may not be able to handle it and can get seriously hurt.  We do not train people to go out there to hurt people -- intentionally or not.  It is my responsibility to keep people safe.  If you do anything along that line, we cannot have you here.  You may not come again."  

The kid seemed a little intimidated by my severe demeanor.  Yet, he nodded his head, "Mm.  I understand."  

I extended my hand to him with the pinky out.  He promptly wrapped his pinky around mine and shook it.

Despite the fact that we were all wearing face masks, I could see the big smile on the father's face.  "Thank you," he said gently.

Given what has been in the news about young people going around to do things in self-righteous ways and hurt people, and how their parents enable and support such dangerous actions, this father and child combo makes me feel that there is still hope.