Let It Go

A student came to me, kinda out of the blue, to talk about how the Japanese names of Aikido techniques confused him.  I was a little perplexed and wondered what might have prompted the subject.  It turned out, he was trying to explain to me why he could not deliver the attacks we named when we asked him to help with another student's test many days ago.  

Indeed, it was a bit of an issue during the test when his partner was trying to perform a certain technique from a particular attack, but he kept doing a different attack.  However, given this student is just returning to Aikido after a very long hiatus, it was understandable.  This is not the first time we encounter this kind of situation and it definitely won't be the last.  We clearly coped.  The test was over, but, apparently, not to him.

During a different class, I used a more experienced student for uke.  Repeatedly, he did not do the right attacks.  He could not tell from which side he should come to hold my wrist.  Moreover, he struggled tremendously with his ukemi.  I was a little surprised, but who knows what might be going on with him that day?  To help make it easier, instead of having both hands out, I held out only one hand so as to limit his choices.  It worked.  Class went on.

A week later, he came to me, "I am sorry about my attacks.  I was not sure which wrist to grab.  It was different from what we usually do.  I think I was really confused."  It took me a while to realize what he was referring to.  Then I thought, "Wow!  So, this has been on his mind all this time?"

I once read an old story about a Buddhist master monk traveling on foot with an apprentice boy monk.   

As the pair came to a river, they saw a beautiful young lady standing by the river bank looking all worried.  "Dear Lady, are you trying to cross the river?" the monk asked.  The young lady nodded, "Yes, but the water is so deep.  I don't think I can get across by myself."  "We need to get to the other side, too.  If you wish, I do not mind carrying you over so you do not get wet." the monk kindly offered.  

The monk took off his garb and handed it to the boy monk.  He, then, scooped up the young lady with his arms and forded across the river.  The water was, indeed, quite deep and the flow was strong.  The scared young lady wrapped herself around the monk tightly.  

The monk got quite wet, but they managed to all get across safely.  On the other side of the river, the monk put the lady down.  They politely said goodbye to each other and went on their separate ways.  The master and the boy monk continued on their journey. 

After walking quietly for hours, eventually, the boy monk could not hold it anymore, "Master, haven't we Buddhist monks taken a vow of celibacy?"

"Yes, we have," said the master.  

The boy monk asked again, "So, we are not supposed to touch women, right?"

"Indeed." replied the master.

The boy monk was noticeably troubled.  "Um, well,  . . .  If that is the case, then, why did you hold the beautiful lady without you shirt on?  And she pressed her body so tightly against yours . . .  "

The master stopped to turn to look at the boy monk, "As a Buddhist monk, I was just trying to help people.  I already put the lady down long ago.  Why are you still carrying her?"

Reflection after class is good, but a class is only a class.  In our Aikido life time of practice, a class/ a test, is nothing more than a drop of water in the ocean.  Aikido is about letting go.  Learn your lesson and move on.  You don't want to carry the young lady in your arms forever, no matter how beautiful she might be.