dojo expansion and dojo spirit - aikido institute davis

Awase Winter / Spring 2011

Newsletter / Aikido Institute Davis

Aikido Institute Davis

638 Cantrill Drive, Suite B, Davis, CA 95616

530-297-1215 www.aikidodavis.com

Awase is the newsletter of the

Aikido Institute of Davis, a dojo where you

can learn the arts of Aikido and Tai Chi.

The Awase newsletter is published twice

yearly, usually in spring and fall.

Please visit our website at

AikidoDavis.com for information on

membership & class times.

To Act or Not to Act

by Hoa Newens, Sensei

In reviewing my past writings to choose a topic

for this essay I noted a seeming contradiction

that should be clarified. In writing as well as in

teaching I have always recommended that

students set training goals and constantly work

toward those goals. At other times, mostly in Tai

Chi classes, I have on several occasions advised

students to let go, be mindless (Mu-shin) or

practice non-doing (Wu-wei).

How can one strive hard for a goal and also let

go? This is the paradox that I will attempt to

explain in this essay.

The standard formula for success is: set goals,

work on them daily, check results and adjust as

necessary. Persevere in your effort and you will

achieve. This is a rational process that is easy to

understand, at least for people raised in western

society.

In a different context, there is the theory that we

should let nature take its course and refrain from

doing too much lest we interfere with the natural

order and cause more harm than good. This is

the simplified expression of the concept of Wu-

wei which lies at the core of Taoism. Lao Tsu

states that the sage ―helps the ten thousand

things find their own nature, but refrains from

action‖. Chapters 63 and 64 of the Tao Te Ching

(translated by Gia Fu Feng) explain this concept

best and are reproduced at the end of this essay.

Wu means ―not‖ and Wei means ―act‖ or ―do‖.

Wu-wei means ―not doing‖. It does not mean

doing nothing at all or being apathetic or lazy.

The true meaning can only be made clear by a

review of Taoist philosophy. The purpose of a

Taoist (a true Taoist would dismiss having any

July 2011 Awase Winter / Spring 2011

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purposes or goals) is to live in harmony with the

Tao, which is the invisible force and wisdom

that pervades the universe.

A fundamental premise is that the Tao is

complete and total. Nothing can be added to it

since it already includes everything. No amount

of action or disturbances within it would create

any significant change since the Tao contains

self-balancing mechanisms that sustains its

whole existence in perpetuity. It appears that

there is nothing that a human being or any sub-

set of the Tao can do that would disturb the Tao.

An underlying principle of the Tao is that it

exists for the benefit of its entire constituency.

Any sub-optimization represents an imbalance

which sets in motion mechanisms that restore

order and balance. For example, an imbalance

emerges when a constituent stands out and

consciously work for its self-interest. This

constituent would use its own free will to pull

away from the general flow of the Tao and

consciously create its own concentric flow that

gather energy around it to build itself. Such

action would instantly generate within the all-

encompassing Tao a counter flow which resists

the concentration of energy and prevents the

build-up around this emerging consciousness.

In this manner, as soon as a conscious bit of the

Tao attracts energy and creates a new life, the

process of decay is set off automatically. As

soon as an opinion is voiced the opposite

opinion is born. The instant something is created

it is bound for destruction. Thus, glass is waiting

to be broken, promise is meant to be broken,

beauty is latent in the simplest thing, and joy

contains the seed of sorrow.

Therefore, the man of Tao wonders, what is the

point of striving? The moment you make a

move, you encounter the opposite move.

Especially, knowing that the Tao is taking care

of all things, why bother doing anything at all?

An answer for the man of Tao is to move

without moving or do without doing. How is that

possible?

―Doing‖ creates the opposite action only when

the ―doing‖ is allowed to cause an impact. If the

―doing‖ does not cause an impact, then there is

no counter-action. When a pebble falls into the

placid water of a pond it creates ripples on the

surface because the mass of water resists the

mass of the pebble. One way to reduce the

resistance is for the pebble to take the shape of a

long needle instead of the normal round shape.

The needle would cause fewer ripples because

its shape is aligned with the force that controls

both the needle and the water, that is, gravity.

This example is a simplistic illustration of how

alignment with an underlying force of nature

helps to reduce the impact of an action. In

general, an action that is aligned with the flow of

Tao creates the least impact.

How to align with the Tao?

If the Tao is all-encompassing and we are born

from the Tao our inborn nature is already in tune

with the Tao. What could disrupt this

attunement? When our consciousness, which

was originally at-one with the Tao, evolves and

mistakenly assumes an individual identity apart

from other creatures of the Tao, it runs the risk

of taking off on its own, separately from the

flock.

This individual consciousness will start building

its own self by making certain choices and

engaging in certain actions. As it continues to

aggrandize with the results of choices and

actions it will further differentiate from its

original nature. Hindu and Buddhist traditions

refer to this process as building Karma. As this

soul gets further away from the Tao the law of

Karma, which is the self-balancing mechanism

mentioned earlier, comes into play and ensures

that this Karma is worked out in the future

earthly existences of this soul, until it is totally

erased.

Based on this understanding, the key to align

with the Tao lies in preventing the build-up of

the soul into a separate entity. During its

existence on earth the soul inevitably passes

through various experiences. The only way to


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prevent those experiences from impacting the

soul is to find a way to not let them stick. The

way to make the soul impervious to its

experiences is to use non-attachment.

Non-attachment is the central practice of many

religions as well as mystical traditions. For

example, in the Bhagavad-Gita, Lord Krishna

admonishes the warrior Arjuna as follows:

Be intent on action, not on the fruit of

action; avoid attraction to the fruits and

attachment to inaction!

Perform actions, firm in discipline,

relinquishing attachment; be impartial to

failure and success – this equanimity is

called discipline.

. . .

Wise men disciplined by understanding

relinquish the fruit born of action; freed

from these bonds of rebirth, they reach a

place beyond decay.

Non-attachment to the fruit of our action allows

the soul to retain its original purity and keeps it

in tune with the divine. This is also a basic

aspiration of all Christians, which is reflected in

the Lord’s Prayer: . . ―Thy will be done on earth

as it is in heaven” . . .

This is the resolution of the paradox described at

the beginning of this essay. The way to reconcile

intentional action with the contradiction of non-

doing is through the practice of non-attachment.

In this practice, one lives totally in the moment,

concentrating fully on the task at hand but caring

not about the result of one‘s action. Many will

recognize this as a Zen practice. An excellent

illustration is the practice of Kyudo, sometime

referred to as Zen archery, in which the archer

takes meticulous effort to prepare the release of

the arrow toward the target but has no concern

for the eventual impact of the arrow.

With non-attachment one discovers that action

becomes effortless yet magically effective, as if

one‘s body is infused with a superior

intelligence that guides every action. One is

indeed allowing the Tao to substitute for one‘s

self. This is Wu-wei, acting without action.

The difficulty in applying this concept comes

from our rational training. The effectiveness

imperative requires that there be a clear purpose

for every action; each action must contribute

toward a goal. The efficiency imperative posits

that resources are scarce and requires that we

choose the least costly alternative; in other

words, we should strive to get the most impact

out of each resource. To a rational person it

makes no sense to act for no specific purpose

and for no reward of some sort, even remote.

This is the limitation of rational behavior, which

is based on egocentricity and scarcity. It fails to

recognize the possibility of the existence of an

all-encompassing entity which provides

abundantly for its constituency, such as the Tao.

Applying the Wu-wei principle to our martial art

training, we should set training goals and engage

in serious training toward these goals. We take

on this activity with no reservation and with full

concentration. However, we do not hold

expectations as to the results of this training, in

terms of self-satisfaction, achievement or

recognition. We engage in this action as a gift to

the spirit.

Set goals, do your best, but then don‘t do too

much or expect anything in return; leave room

for the Tao do its work.

The above discussion concentrates only on one

aspect of Wu-wei to examine how it can be

applied to our daily activity. We have not

touched on another important and esoteric aspect

of Wu-wei which centers on the practice of

returning to the source. Wu-wei, or non-doing, is

itself a practice to return to our original state, the

state before action arises. This state is pregnant

with all potential for creation and activity.

Advanced martial artists practice meditation at

the Wu-chi point (the void or no-energy point) to

reach this state and create martial techniques at

will. Due to lack of time, instead of writing

about it, I invite the reader to peruse the


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following excerpts from the Tao Te Ching to get

a glimpse of this practice.

Excerpts of Tao Te Ching, by Lao-Tzu

(Translation by Gia-Fu-Feng)

Chapter 63

Practice non-action.

Work without doing.

Taste the tasteless.

Magnify the small, increase the few.

Reward bitterness with care.

See simplicity in the complicated.

Achieve greatness in little things.

In the universe the difficult things are

done as if they are easy.

In the universe great acts are made up of

small deeds.

The sage does not attempt anything very

big,

And thus achieves greatness.

Easy promises make for little trust.

Taking things lightly results in great

difficulty.

Because the sage always confronts

difficulties,

He never experiences them.

Chapter 64

Peace is easily maintained;

Trouble is easily overcome before it

starts.

The brittle is easily shattered;

The small is easily scattered.

Deal with it before it happens.

Set things in order before there is

confusion.

A tree as great as a man's embrace

springs up from a small shoot;

A terrace nine stories high begins with a

pile of earth;

A journey of a thousand miles starts

under one's feet.

He who acts defeats his own purpose;

He who grasps loses.

The sage does not act, and so is not

defeated.

He does not grasp and therefore does not

lose.

People usually fail when they are on the

verge of success.

So give as much care to the end as to the

beginning;

Then there will be no failure.

Therefore the sage seeks freedom from

desire.

He does not collect precious things.

He learns not to hold on to ideas.

He brings men back to what they have

lost.

He help the ten thousand things find their

own nature,

But refrains from action.

Dojo Students at Bolinas Beach

Practicing 1000 Strikes


5

Active Peace

by Yerig Wangpo

Having been a monk for one year, I can say I've

experienced what passive, renunciative peace is

like, and it has worked for me up to a certain

degree. But since entering the dojo in May I

have experienced happiness on a new level,

being in constant interaction with others with a

new approach to peace and harmony. The focus

on being fully aware of mind and body while in

movement and in contact with others has

brought a deeper sense of fulfillment and

understanding of nonviolence for me. I've

always taken part in martial arts, but mostly with

the intention of "self-defense" in union with

spiritual practice, but the shaping of flow

between two beings as in Aikido has certainly

added a new level of awareness for my training

in finding spiritual awakening. The roundedness

and body mechanics found in Aikido has given

me a new discipline to adhere to than the active

avoidance of any worldly engagement of

monastic life, in that it feels it is actually shaping

me in feeling more grounded connected to other

beings harmoniously, and to that I am deeply

appreciative.

Aikido rap

This be my flow from learning Aikido,

should you want to know this is how I sow the

seeds of virtue

to tame the inner beast

martial philosophy, way of peace

envision a future where aggression has ceased

flow between beings at the very least

rounded and unbound

sink into the earth

grounded and unwound

A tsunami finds its birth

Toppling an antagonist

Attackers line up single file

Throwing out their fists

As the end up in a pile

Now they aren't so pissed

leaving even them with a smile

As you help to assist

each uke to the mat all the while

Yerig and Other Dojo Students at

Bolinas Gasshuku, June 2011


6

Geoffrey Performs “Musashi” Beach

Defense at Bolinas Gasshuku

Getting Help

by Martin Dubcovsky

When I am in the middle of class, focused on the

practice at hand, it is easy to forget that my

practice extends far beyond the edges of the mat.

Of course that includes doing suburi, watching

aikido videos, and reading aikido books. But

beyond that there are myriad activities that form

part of my daily practice. Everything from what

I eat, and how I sit at work, to who I spend my

time with has an effect on my practice.

Everything I do, think, and feel is part of my

practice.

If I make poor dietary choices, I feel less

energetic, and am unable to enjoy class. When I

disregard my posture throughout my workday,

the circulation in my body is negatively affected

and I may fall ill and be unable to practice for a

long time. If I surround myself with contentious

people, then I must spend energy to keep those

relationships civil and productive, and all that

effort is diverted away from aikido.

Negative actions, thoughts, and feelings lessen

my practice. But the inverse is also true. I can

arrange my daily life to improve my practice and

set up the support structures I need in order to

continue practicing aikido. It is therefore,

establishing a good support system is just as

important as coming to the dojo.

For me, the hardest aspects of this is getting the

people I care about to respect and value my

practice. This is primarily difficult because all of

the people I interact with outside of the dojo

have no background in aikido, most have no

martial arts experience, and some have never

practiced any art of any sort. To them spending

so much time on a hobby just seems silly. And

when I try to explain to them the benefits of

regular practice, I can feel that I am not reaching

them.

The good news is though that is does get better

with time. Although they may not know what

aikido is, or what it's even good for, people do

understand dedication, and they certainly

appreciate hard work. The longer I maintain my

practice, the easier it gets for people to accept

and appreciate my commitment.

Moreover, it is even easier to get the support of

people we see everyday. My girlfriend lovingly

supports my aikido addiction. It isn't just

because she knows that aikido is important to me

(she does), but because she knows that she also

derives benefit from my practice. Even though

the nightly practices cut into our brief chances to

spend time together, she would much rather be

around me when I've had a chance to train.

I hope to be practicing aikido for a very long

time, and without the tremendous support of

people like my girlfriend that just would not be

possible.

Thank you, GG!


7

Aikido

by Kori Farrell

The nature of the ocean

is not to reject the raindrop when it falls,

but to accept it fully,

without resistance,

back into the greater whole.

Kori and Brian at Bolinas Gasshuku

Catching the Wave!

by Marion Donehower

In February 2011 Bruce and I went to Hawaii to

see the Doshu. The event took place in

Honolulu, which was very exciting for me since

I had lived in Honolulu thirty years ago. At that

time I had just come from Germany to find the

perfect Tai Chi teacher. In Germany there were

mysterious stories going around about legendary

Tai Chi and Aikido teachers in Hawaii. So this

was great for me to reconnect thirty-three years

later again. It felt like closing a circle.

Seeing the Doshu was important to me in order

to see first hand how the arts of ki have

developed in the last decades. The Doshu, as the

leader of Hombu dojo, the world headquarters in

Tokyo, still represents aikido to the world. And

the lineage coming down from Osensei to his

grandson the Doshu and his great grandson

(Waka Sensei), who served as the Doshu‘s uke,

is not only very important to the tradition but to

me. How would a modern leader of aikido

compare to Osensei? Could he keep up the

tradition of aikido or water it down? Had aikido

a good representation in the world?

The answers to my questions came at the end of

the seminar, which was held in a joyous and

light Aloha mood with a lot of mature aikidoka

around. The very last days the Doshu gave a

long demonstration of aikido. He presented not

just his personal achievement but also the spirit

of aikido. I liked the way the Doshu came on the

mat. I think beginnings are very important. The

Doshu is small and slender, gray haired, and

about sixty years old. He looked like he had

never seen a gym. In a typical Japanese way, he

was understated and simple. All three hundred to

four hundred people in the audience were quiet.

It was very wonderful to have this moment of

stillness. The Doshu moved around on the large

mat and took good advantage of the space

around him. He moved with large and small

circles in a soft and very relaxed manner -- not

too fast, and savoring the movements. It was

Hombu aikido with its natural beauty. He

brought no personal achievements or agendas to

his demonstration. And there were no frills or

thrills in his aikido. I think that he brought out

the essence of aikido in an almost meditative,

calm, and happy way. Seeing him, I felt happy to

be part of aikido. His demonstration showed also

that aikido has nothing to do with healthy,

sporty, able bodies, but a lot with inner strength

and purification, which is the result of years of

diligent practice.

Before seeing the Doshu we had two days of

intense practice. I took my courage and practiced

with a lot of aikidoka whom I thought were from


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Japan and perhaps from Hombu dojo. I was

lucky that I ended up in a little corner with a lot

of space around me so that I could move freely.

After several hours of intense training I pushed

through my exhaustion and my huffing and

puffing. Afterwards the practice became very

soft, flowing, and connecting.

Bruce and I felt so good in Honolulu that we

went a second time. This time to celebrate our

thirtieth anniversary. We hiked a lot and had

plenty of time to listen to the ocean, experience

its rhythms and moods, and observe the animals

and the surfers. The sound of waves and the

sight of fresh sparkly air was invigorating. I felt

all restored when we came home. So the next

day when we were home and went to the dojo on

Saturday, the Aloha spirit and the blue and white

waves of Hawaii were still with me. And of

course I saw a lot of aikido friends from the

dojo. This morning I felt that the aikido was a bit

more relaxed, flowing, and focused for me. I

was contemplating the blue waves and trying not

to space out. I was thinking about how

wonderful and calming it is to look at the blue

waves and sky. But then I was thinking that

aikido is even more fun than the ocean because

in aikido you are not outside the wave, you

become the wave.

Doshu

STRAIGHTEN UP

by Mark Henrickson

I am no slouch when it comes to slouching. I am

an accomplished, life-long sloucher.

Some babies are born breach. I was born slouch.

My first, toddling steps were with stooped

shoulders. I hunched my way through primary

school, sloped my way through secondary. I

attended Cal on a full-ride slouching

scholarship. Afterward, I considered turning

pro; choosing instead, though, to retain my

amateur status. I hold world records in several

categories. My many awards droop upon my

mantle. It is universally assumed that I will

enter the slouching hall of fame in Withering

Heights, Sagskatchewan, on the first ballot in

my first year of eligibility.

I sit slouched, stand stooped, eat bent, drink

drooped, read reclined, jog sloped, watch lolled,

drive slumped. I have always figured I would

slouch right on into my grave.

Then I began Aikido. After one year of training,

I find that I might have to convert to the Church

of Slouch, Reformed.

The point of Aikido, it seems to my beginner

eyes, is to maintain one‘s own balance while

upsetting that of your opponent. Since an erect

posture is key to maintaining balance, one must

stay erect throughout an entire Aikido move.

One must have an erect carriage when receiving

uke, maintain said carriage when redirecting

uke, and preserve it still when throwing or

pinning uke. But how can I possibly maintain

good posture for an entire Aikido move if I

never have good posture at any other time in my

life?

Do I really think I‘m gonna slouch on in to the

dojo, slump on in to my gi, loll through warm-

ups and then stand stock straight during a


9

technique before slumping back down upon the

line to receive instruction before magically

snapping to another straight backed execution of

irimi nage? It‘s not gonna happen.

If I‘m going to perform anything even slightly

resembling Aikido, then I am going to have to

straighten up. So I made myself a mental note to

improve my posture. At first, I would notice a

few times a day that I was slouching, and I

would do my best to straighten up. Then I began

catching myself a dozen times a day, then two

dozen. Yesterday, I caught myself in poor

posture at least fifty times. The increase in

catching myself out is not due to worsening

posture, but to increased awareness. I am

remembering more and more.

I still haven‘t figured out how to do certain

things. How do I wash my hands at a low sink?

How do I reach the steering wheel while holding

my shoulders back? How do I reach down and

pick up a scrap of paper off my classroom floor?

Do I bend my legs? Do I bend at the waist? Or

do I just slouch on over and pick the thing up for

crying out loud?

I haven‘t worked everything out yet, but I think

my posture is improving. I am hoping that this

improvement translates to better Aikido. But

even if it doesn‘t, even if I quit Aikido due to

injury, or apathy, or busyness, I am hoping that

my improved posture remains. Perhaps I can

live a happier healthier life--maybe even delay

my entry into the hall of fame by a few years.

I need some help. After 46 years of perfecting

my slouch, I‘m going to need years of practice to

change my ingrained habit. So if you see me

slumping around the dojo, please remind me to

straighten up. Tell me to ―put my head on

straight‖ or to ―wear the crown of life‖, as Bruce

Sempei is fond of preaching. And if you have

any advice for that steering wheel or scrap of

paper on my classroom floor, I‘m all ears.

On the Mat at Bolinas

Curiosity: Peace and Blending

by Kori Farrell

When I first began to work with a jo in partner

practice, I blocked with abandon. My partner

would tsuki, and I would whack his jo off to the

side, thinking only, “He is going to strike at me

and I have to block!” To me, a strike was a

strike and a block was a block—they both

happened quickly and with force, ended with a

loud smacking sound, and made me want to

close my eyes and brace for impact.

As I have continued to practice, I‘ve discovered

something that has changed the way I experience

conflict:

Curiosity.

Curiosity made me want to keep my eyes open. I

began to notice that other people training around

me could parry a strike with just a small

movement. They could stand tall and move

quickly, their shoulders relaxed and their eyes

clear and focused. How did they do it? I wanted

to know. And further more, I wanted to discover

how to do the same.

Curiosity allows us to be present. We want an

answer, so we look around, expand our

awareness, focus our thoughts, and engage in

our experience. Curiosity allows us to be open. It

allows us to surrender ego for the sake of

discovering what is. If I realize, for example,

that a strike is not a uniform action that can be


10

responded to the same way each time it happens,

then I become interested in each individual

attack. Instead of noticing, my partner is now

striking, I ask, exactly how is she striking this

time? In order to answer my question, I must pay

very close attention. I must follow the strike as it

occurs and take note of its unique character.

As a result of this process, I am able to respond

based not on what my idea of a strike is, but on

the reality of a particular moment and its unique

circumstances. If we are here, interested,

following, feeling, then we are already

blending… the next step is uniting our bodies

with that focus, and positioning ourselves

accordingly (―Okay, so how do we do that?”

might be the next question).

***

Last month I joined many of you in Bolinas for

the Gasshuku at Geoff‘s home. On the morning

of the final day we rose early, began class with

standing meditation, and then walked together

with our weapons down to the beach. There we

stood in a circle and counted off one thousand

bokken strikes. Later, after breakfast and before

the next class, I went and sat for a bit by myself.

I thought about the day before, hours of training

in the sun, trying to understand with my body

how the Aikido I am practicing at the dojo in

Santa Cruz and the Aikido I practice with you in

Davis are the same. I thought of the morning so

far, of the people I had trained with, of the day

ahead. I felt my breathing slow and everything

settle towards the ground. All of a sudden, and

quite unexpectedly, I realized the answer to a

question I have been asking myself over and

over for the last two years.

―Why am I practicing Aikido?‖

Ultimately the answer comes back to curiosity. I

realized in that moment that I am practicing

Aikido because it is helping me answer one of

the driving questions in my life: peace. What is

peace?

When I ask, “what is peace?” I find an answer

in training.

It is peace I find on the mat during focused

practice with other people. It is peace I find in

the physical and energetic lines of the techniques

that we practice. It is peace I find in my life as I

continue to work with myself, to listen, to accept

myself, to push myself. It is peace I find in my

body as I work over and over to understand

something kinesthetically as well as

intellectually. And it is quiet peace, through

strength, clarity, and compassion, that I see in

those teachers and students who have dedicated

their lives to Aikido.

When I realized this, I saw that the fear, self-

consciousness, embarrassment, and ego that

often rise and cloud my head while training can

be let go! If I know what I am here to ultimately

understand, and if it is more important to me to

learn than to be ―right‖, then I need not waste

energy feeling frustrated, proud, or ashamed.

***

I am certain that the more questions we ask, the

more open we will be to receive insights when

they come. And an important thing to realize is

that we are all capable of asking questions, we

are all capable of seeking answers, and we each

have it in us somewhere to accept our innate

capacity for growth and learning.

Aikidoka at Bolinas


11

Tom and Joe, Bolinas

OUCH !

Injuries in Aikido, Part 2

by Bruce Donehower

In April 2007 I wrote an article for the Awase

entitled ―Injuries in Aikido.‖ I remember

thinking at the time that I wrote it: ―I want to say

something that will be helpful to folks on the

mat who want to avoid or heal injuries (external

and internal) during practice.‖ I naively thought:

if they read my little article, maybe they won‘t

get injured.

Four years later as I got ready to put together

this newsletter, I was browsing my old files and

I saw this article from 2007. I started thinking

about the subject again and I realized that

recently and in the past I have known a whole lot

of people who have been injured doing aikido,

some of those injuries minor, some of them

middling, and some of them life-altering and

dramatic, requiring EMTs, etc. Then I began to

reflect on my own current and past status and I

realized: ―Omigod! During the years I‘ve been

doing aikido I‘ve had aches and pains of one sort

or another and injuries of varying degrees of

bothersomeness almost all the time –

constantly!‖ In fact, over the years I‘ve gotten to

the point of recognizing that just when I have the

feeling: ―Ah, this feels good! I think all the

cylinders are firing!‖ – these moments generally

proceed some new episode of aches and pains.

Basically, I‘m in a constant process of recovery

from aikido practice all the time.

Is this discouraging? Well, it hasn‘t been, really

– strange to say. One might think that if I stood

back and thought objectively like an adult about

this process I would say to myself: ―gee, this is

goofy. Why do I persist in an activity that makes

me feel sore and sometimes hobbles me up for

extended periods? Is this age-appropriate?‖

Every aikidoka has to come to his or her own

answer to this question. For me, aikido

movement satisfies an innate craving of my

physical/spiritual nature in a way that almost NO

other activity (sailing, running, Tai Chi, hiking

… finish the list yourself, and be creative!) does

in quite the same way. I‘m not sure why, but

that‘s my situation. Osensei theorized that the

aikido movements are in harmony with the

archetypal spiritual energies of the universe – so

maybe that‘s the reason, I don‘t know. However,

when I teach a beginner course I sometimes like

to ask the students: why are you doing this

instead of snow boarding, playing golf, or some

other physical activity that you enjoy and get a

high from? If they say, quite understandably:

because we like it; then I say: Why? I never

want to hear an answer beyond this point

(actually I am afraid someone will start talking

about self-defense or physical fitness, and quite

frankly I don‘t want to go there) – however, I

DO want to make sure they think about why

they are investing time and energy into aikido so

that when the obstacles and hard times and

injuries and bruised egos show up they have

something spiritual in reserve to call upon.

Because, my friends, the injuries do surely show

up -- even if you‘re the most careful uke in the

business.


12

In closing, here is a quote from Wendy Palmer

Sensei that I found very very helpful when I had

a knee injury that lasted eighteen months and

hobbled me up incessantly and caused me

endless Hamlet-like monologues of ―To Be or

Not To Be.‖ I hope Sensei Palmer doesn‘t mind

me sharing it with you.

―The first time I injured my knee, I tore

some cartilage and ligaments but not

terribly badly. I used every waking

moment and many methods to heal my

knee – bodywork, visualizations, salves,

and massage. I was obsessed in my

efforts because my favorite teacher was

arriving to teach a seminar in two weeks

and I was quite fixated on training during

that seminar. My knee improved swiftly

although it was far from healed when my

teacher arrived. My ego attachment to

training and having him throw me

overrode my sensibility. While training

with my teacher during the seminar, I re-

injured my knee. This second time, my

knee was injured very badly. This injury

stopped me.

―In retrospect I can see that the Universe

had been tapping me gently, saying:

―slow down.‖. . . My desire for approval

and control was a seductive enticement

to train during the seminar even with a

severely injured knee. By training I

thought I would be ―better,‖ I would be

approved of, and then I would be in

control. Ah, the mind obsessed with

desire and attachment is a worthy

opponent indeed! The second injury was

a message so loud and strong I had to

hear it: ―Stop! Stop doing! Stop even

trying to heal yourself! Stop efforting

altogether! Just be. Be here. Be injured.

Be open. And be vulnerable.

―My ego was aghast. Fear flared. My

identity felt shaky. If I am not able to roll

and fall, spin and jump around, then who

am I?‖

That‘s all the quote I am going to share in this

brief article, but I recommend that you check out

the rest of what Sensei Palmer said in her most

excellent book The Intuitive Body on pages 131

and forward. It‘s a good read! (I think there‘s a

copy in the library.)

Oh, and by the way… apropos the dojo library…

if you have overdue library books, BRING

THEM BACK (if you‘re done with them)!

Group Photo at Tahoe Gasshuku

Musings

by Fourteen Aikido Students on 28th of

May, 2011 (Gasshuku)

In a cabin at Tahoe, California

When I enter AID I feel the energy from Sensei

and from my fellow students and Sempai.

Striking wood by sharp point strung through

watching wish, a clear wrought view.

My soul wanders, never lost, on the path we

made together.

Aikido has inspired me to train as much as

possible.


13

AID has been a life changing part of my life and

my commute.

We enter the Dojo one by one and come together

in a single family, sharing a single language,

forming a sacred space that brings the whole

universe into harmony.

Dojo. Place of enlightenment. Where love,

laughter, toil and friendship join under the

guidance of a compassionate teacher.

One person, through a life of dedication and

inquiry inspires so many each day.

In the middle of crisis, you grab me and I‘m

home.

The art of peace brings me joy and strength.

The spring breeze blows through the Dojo. What

a gift this school is – a kind teacher, so many

good people.

I cannot verbalize what it means for me. Aikido

and the Dojo. You are moving, you are part of a

big stream. You will realize what it means for

you when connection would be lost. Don‘t try to

reflect, be connected.

As fishes swimming / in the deep, so in practice

/ are we in Aiki.

The Dojo relaxes my mind, rejuvenates my body

and inspires my spirit.

Tahoe Cabin Photos


14

Self-Criticism: The Teacher Within

by Kori Farrell

I am a very accomplished and insistent self-

critic. I‘m sure most of us are. However, I have

begun to realize that criticism in general is so

often paired with an expression of disapproval

that we forget how utterly important it can be to

the learning process. Because we learn to

associate criticism with judgment, it is easy to

perceive criticism as judgment. Because

judgment is so emotionally charged, we may get

caught up in it and forget the value of what the

critic has to say--this is true of both outside

criticisms and those that arise within our own

heads.

Often when we try to do something new

(especially if it is something we want to do

well), we will make an attempt and then

immediately feel, “wow, that really sucked” or,

“no, that wasn’t right.” (Both meaning, “that

attempt did not mirror my goal. Therefore, it

was bad.‖) If the conversation ends there, then

we can easily feel failure. We can get stuck.

When we try again and still don‘t ‗get it right‘,

our beliefs in our inadequacy intensify. When

this happens, it is because we are busy judging

ourselves, in labeling right and wrong and the

consequences of each. But what about that new

thing we were trying to learn?

When asked, ―what happened? Why didn’t that

attempt mirror my goal?” our critical mind

usually has an answer: “My shoulders tensed up.

I lost my balance. I went right instead of left. I

didn’t keep both hands on the jo. I didn’t move

off the line. I used too much force. My arms

weren’t connected to my hips. I was thinking too

hard. I wasn’t focused enough… etc.”

Ok, so it is easy to identify these things as faults-

-ways in which we have failed. But what if

instead of reprimanding ourselves for not

―getting it right‖, we take a step back and realize

how clever we are? Because by noticing the

ways in which we are not measuring up to our

own standards, we are in fact identifying the

refinements that need to be made in order for us

to embody them. In this light, self-criticism

becomes an immensely valuable tool!

***

This July, Mary Heiny Sensei taught at the

Aikido of Santa Cruz summer retreat. During

one of her classes, she gave these instructions:

“I want you each to think about a problem you

encountered as nage during the last technique.

What was difficult for you? Were there any

sticking points? Tell your partner what you

noticed… Ok. Now, do the technique again, and

make the problem disappear.”

Everyone in the class chuckled at how

delightfully simple she made it sound. And yet,

the exercise that followed was incredibly

profound.

Most of the time, it is easy to identify our

problems--we are very practiced at this. But then

we get stuck, as if the problems are a heavy rock

we are forced to carry. When Mary Heiny told

us to ―make the problem disappear,‖ it was as if

she was saying, “oh, so you are carrying that

heavy rock and you need to put it down in order

to move? Well then, put it down.”

If it is this simple, then why don‘t we simply

make the changes we need to make whenever we

see them? And also, why do we judge ourselves

each time we try and don‘t quite get there?

Somehow there is a resistance to making the

changes we identify as necessary in moving

toward our goals. Maybe it is a fear of failure.

Or perhaps, instead, it is a fear of success—a

fear of embracing our own growth,

expansiveness, and ability. A fear of actually

getting where we want to go. We know what it is

like to be where we are. Perhaps it seems safer

to be stuck, to keep our goals at a distance and

effectively thwart our own attempts to reach

them.

If we put down the heavy rock, what could we

complain about? Besides, we know how to carry

that rock… what if we don‘t know how not to


15

carry it? Better, surely, to make excuses to keep

holding on.

This is where judgment comes into play.

Judgment doesn‘t just make us feel bad. Often, it

actually provides us with an excuse to stay

exactly where we are. When judgment

accompanies our self criticisms, it helps

convince us: that we are incapable/inadequate,

that the change we want is too difficult to make,

that we must struggle excessively before we can

achieve the change, that perhaps we are wrong

and the change should not be pursued, that

because we are not already enlightened we will

never be… the list goes on). Judgment distracts

us from what ultimately we know is necessary:

fulfilling the next level of our potential.

***

“You will never learn to do any endeavor

properly unless you are willing to give yourself

time. I think you are accustomed to having

everything come easily to you, but this is not the

way of life or the martial arts.” --Bong Soo Han

It is true that most changes, whether we resist

them or not, take time and practice to

accomplish. In Mary Heiny‘s class, she

eventually progressed to having each person do

the technique eight times in a row. “Keep

refining yourself until the problem is solved.

Each time, make it smoother.” Move, Compare,

critique, change. Move, compare, critique,

change. Over and over and over again. With

persistence and awareness comes progress that

the critical mind can see.

Dissolving resistance and judgment makes the

process easier, just like putting down that heavy

stone makes it easier to move. It is important to

see that letting go of these things is itself a

change that requires willingness and practice. If

we can identify those moments of resistance and

judgment, we can practice letting them go. We

can also practice identifying and dissolving any

patterns of self-deprecation that cling to the

voice of self-criticism, and begin to listen to the

teacher inside us.

Rob and Guy at Tahoe Gasshuku

Toby at Tahoe

Tahoe Demonstration


16

Chef Guy Performs Kitchen Waza

Tahoe Gasshuku

Mealtime!

Eugene at Tahoe

Aiki-Jo Seminar at Central Park

by Martin Dubcovsky

On the slightly overcast Saturday morning of

April the 23rd, 2011, we gathered at Central

Park in anticipation of full day's workshop. The

seminar, which ran from 9am to 4pm, was

scheduled to cover the core of the Aiki-Jo

curriculum: jo suburi, jo kata, jo awase, and

kumi-jo.

To get started on the right track we spent the

first half of the morning going over the twenty jo

suburi. The suburi are the most important

practice. A solid foundation of suburi helps to

make the rest of the jo curriculum much easier to

follow, and more enjoyable to practice. Without

a good base of suburi, the more dynamic jo

practices loose their substance, and become

empty practices.

After a quick break we moved on from the

suburi, to work on the 31 jo kata. As sensei

pointed out, we must not shelve the kata just as

soon as we learn the form. Much like with

suburi, the kata require constant drilling. The

kata add context to the suburi and are a way to

practice the transitions between techniques.

Before breaking for lunch we covered the jo

awase, the most basic partner practices. The

awase are brief exchanges which express the

quintessential aspects of partnered practice. In

truth there is hardly anything basic at all about

the awase. Suddenly there is so much more to

worry about: timing, distance, alignment!

After feasting on sandwiches and fruit (thank

you Phoebe!) we got right back to work. The

afternoon went by in quick order. With 10 kumi-

jo to cover, and only a couple of hours left in the

day, there was hardly a second to spare. Sensei

managed to keep us on track, though, and we

were able to go over each of the forms and a

handful of henka for each.


17

In all it was a very full, and very fun day. We

enjoyed good weather, an energizing practice,

and wonderful company. Special thanks to all of

our of town visitors, especially Peter and Gina

who made the very long drive from Reno to join

us!

Kent at Tahoe Gasshuku

Guy and Rob in the Snow

Thoughts About Osensei

by Bruce Donehower

As Marion noted in her article for this issue of

the Awase, in February she and I went to Hawaii

to participate in the 50th

Anniversary Celebration

of Osensei‘s visit to the islands -- his first and

only trip to spread aikido outside Japan.

Although aikido originated in Japan and has its

origins in the traditional Japanese martial arts,

there is little doubt, when you read Osensei‘s

words, that he envisioned aikido as a movement

discipline distinctively different from the

traditional martial arts and that he envisioned

aikido as a contribution to promote peace in the

worldwide community and to encourage the

spiritual development of humanity. Of course,

when you read the aikido blogs you soon

become aware of the continuing ongoing

discussion: What is aikido? Is it a martial art?

Does it work? Which style works best? Are the

stories about Osensei mostly hype and

mythology? How do we best study aikido -- as a

spiritual discipline (whatever that means), as an

art, or as a series of techniques (far more easily

systematized and teachable)? Everyone will

have to sort these questions out for him or

herself, of course. Osensei left some markers

behind, such as the collection of aphorisms and

poetic expressions contained in The Art of

Peace, collected and translated by John Stevens

-- but these are ―expressions from the

mountaintop,‖ so to speak, and the many people

who view the mountain will view that mountain

in different ways.

In considering what to write for this newsletter

issue, therefore, I decided to share a personal

observation that I made at the Hawaii

celebration that was helpful to me in sorting out

these paradoxes (provisionally). When I entered

the McKinley High School basketball

gymnasium where the event was held (and

where Osensei did a demo fifty years ago), my

eye went immediately to a large portrait of

Osensei prominent at the shomen. We‘ve all


18

seen several of these, I‘m sure. Osensei was a

very photogenic individual, particularly in the

last years of his life. But I feel that he also had a

sense of high purpose when he allowed his

photograph to be taken (or when he was filmed).

If he truly believed as the inspired Founder that

aikido had a special mission in the world for the

development of peace and spiritual insight (as I

think he did), then it is likely that when he posed

for his picture he attempted to impress this

attitude into the portrait so that others would be

influenced or drawn to the art. This is one

reason, I believe, that it is important to have a

picture of Osensei in the dojo and to place

Osensei‘s picture front and foremost on any item

advertizing aikido to the world. Osensei joined

his lifestream to aikido; thus, anyone who

connects with aikido should connect first and

foremost with Osensei and ―wrestle‖ with his

vision, no matter how paradoxical Osensei‘s

visionary pronouncements or presentations may

seem to be.

During the demonstrations that concluded the

seminar in Hawaii, I noted something that

reinforced this subjective opinion. All the

demonstrations occurred in front of the large

picture of Osensei that I mentioned, but in

addition they occurred in front of the grandson

(the current Doshu) and great grandson of

Osensei -- the lineage that Marion spoke of in

her essay. Of course, all the demonstrations were

in celebration of Osensei‘s contribution to the

world; however, some demonstrations seemed

more on the order of Dan demonstrations while

others seemed more to be offerings to Osensei.

Opinions will vary on this to be sure -- watching

aikido is like watching any other performing art

-- different people see different things and value

different things in the performance.

While all the demonstrations were excellent and

inspiring, I had a special feeling when I watched

the Doshu. His techniques were all standard

repertoire; they were just plain aikido. What

seemed to make this demo special for me,

however, was the transparency of the gesture --

by this I mean: it was just plain aikido, and

nothing more. It seemed to me that the Doshu

wasn‘t adding anything extra or extraneous or

personal -- and therefore my mind didn‘t tend to

go to questions such as the ones we hear

rehearsed in the blogs. Those questions only

arise when the attention shifts elsewhere -- not

that the mind shouldn‘t shift or not that it won‘t.

We certainly need to ask questions! After

watching the Doshu and participating in several

classes taught by him, I was reminded of the

saying: ―Everyday life is our practice.‖ This

seemed to make more sense to me after my

experience in Hawaii at the seminar, and it gave

me a new way to think about my training. I also

was reminded of a quote in the Art of Peace.

Progress comes

To those who

Train and train;

Reliance on secret techniques

Will get you nowhere.

Anyway, it was heartening to see that after fifty

years of change in the world (and that‘s a lot of

proverbial water under the bridge!), Osensei‘s

inspiration for peace and human progress is alive

and well.

Mahalo!

Bolinas Shomen


19

Sensei at Gasshuku

Sensei Goto Throws Geoff at Gasshuku

Many Thanks to Photographers

Guy and Kent for the Pictures in

the Newsleter!

GATEWAY TO AIKIDO

A new introductory “Beginner Class”

starts in September 2011.

This eight-week special introductory class is

designed for new students who want to

sample what Aikido has to offer. Check dojo

website for details. The dojo sponsors a quarterly eight-week

beginner class entitled ―Gateway to Aikido‖

intended to provide a focused and intensive

overview/introduction to the practice and

philosophy of aikido. Participants in this eight-

week course receive a one-on-one close attention

from instructors and more experienced students.

The classes are chatty and informative;

additionally, at the end of six of those eight

weeks the students may join other dojo classes at

their discretion to sample what those classes are

like. Altogether, it is a very economical and

enjoyable way to become acquainted with the

dojo and aikido.

The next ―Gateway to Aikido‖ eight-week

beginner class begins in late September. Watch

the website for dates.


20

A note about the newsletter: The AWASE

newsletter is currently published twice a year in

spring and fall (approximately). All submissions

are welcome! Very little editing is done.

Authors should take care to edit, copy-edit,

proofread, and make their own stylistic

corrections. However, formatting mistakes are

generally the unfortunate goofs of your editor,

who may be confused from time to time.

Sumimasen!!

Reminder: Please let Sensei know if

and when you will miss classes for an

extended period of time.

Pay Your Dues!

Dues are due at the beginning of the

month and help keep the dojo running.

Please pay on time or use automatic

payments from your bank. Thanks!

dojo expansion and dojo spirit - aikido institute davis

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