Rethinking Right
“You are wrong. I am constantly losing my balance. My skill lies in my ability to regain it.” — O Sensei
If I never lose my balance physically, emotionally, or spiritually, then I am probably not fully engaging with life.
Growth comes from experiencing things differently. And when I truly allow that to happen, I am no longer standing in the comfort of the familiar.
I sometimes think in Aikido either everything is henka waza or nothing is. Henka waza is usually understood as changing from one technique to another when the first technique does not work. But for there to be a “change,” there first has to be an intention to do a specific technique.
If technique instead emerges from relationship, then perhaps there was never really a failed technique to begin with, only a continuing response to what is happening.
That response requires constant adjustment from center. In the case of O Sensei, those adjustments may have been microscopic because he could feel imbalance immediately and respond before it became large.
So maybe what we are really training is the ability to feel the need to adjust and change rather than the need to perform a correct technique. It is the willingness to notice my balance waning and return to center.
Done correctly, uke is not my opponent but my teacher.
If I can shift from needing to be right, which is a fixed desire, to being in the moment and responding to what is, then uke, whether in life or in Aikido, is no longer making me wrong. They are helping me make needed adjustments
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Scott, whenever I read one of your comments on substack, I simply allow my mind to free-associate; it's as though I take a deep-dive into that vast ocean, and as I plummet further and further into its depths, I am actually entering into the depths of my subconScott, whenever I read one of your comments on substack, I simply allow my mind to free-associate; it's as though I take a deep-dive into that vast ocean, and as I plummet further and further into its depths, I am actually entering into the depths of my subconscoious. When I emerge, I receive a dominant thought. Because of my immersion in the Jewish tradition, customarily, I draw on some compelling notion, all through the process of free-association a la Freud.
But this time, upon reading your comments, after my "deep dive", I did not emerge with some compelling thought from the Jewish tradition, but rather from another tradition to which I have been exposed during my considerably long adult life, the philosophical tradition. In that case, I find myself reaching back to the philosophers of ancient Greece, to name just a few: Protagoras, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle.
Oh, and I mustn't forget one of my favorites, Diogenes of Sinop, the founder of the Cynic school that flourished during the first quarter of the fourth century BCE. He is reputed to have walked through the streets of Athens with a lantern in broad daylight, and if any of his fellow Athenians should ask what he was up to, he would respond, "I'm searching for an honest man." One more point about Diogenes. He lived in extreme poverty either in a large pipe, perhaps used for irrigation, or in some other oversized container; some suggest a large jar. He wished to demonstrate that virtue and independence from societal constraints were the keys to a good life.
But, alas, Scott, I did not emerge with one of the great ideas of the ancient Greek philosophical tradition. But I drew on one of the great innovative philosophers of the modern age, this time from the early twentieth century. The French philosopher, Henri Bergson, in 1907 coined the philosophical concept, Élan vital, best translated as "vital force." It refers to the continuously operating innate creative force within all living beings, which manifests itself through evolution, growth and adaptation.
Perhaps, Scott, you will begin to see the connection with the concepts you referred to in your practice of Aikido. Let me pull out from your present commentary a few phrases. How about this one:
"Growth comes from experiencing things differently. And when I truly allow that to happen, I am no longer standing in the comfort of the familiar."
Oops! Pardon me for slipping back to another ancient Greek philosopher. Heraclitus, (c. 535–475 BCE). His most noteworthy saying is "You cannot step into the same river twice." He meant by this that both the river and the person stepping into it are ever-changing. The water is constantly flowing while the person is continuously evolving. Change, for Heraclitus, is a fundamental principle of the universe. Whether we understand this principle in the practice of Aikido or in the living of life, absorbing that principle enables, at every moment of our lives, to prepare ourselves for change and away from the "familiar."
Let's take another of your comments, Scott: "If technique instead emerges from relationship, then perhaps there was never really a failed technique to begin with, only a continuing response to what is happening."
To my mind, Scott, concentrating on technique is akin to seeing each change as discrete moments in time, when, to use your words, "a continuing response to what is happening," that is, is changing constantly. It is no longer regarded as discrete, but a fluid movement, whether in Aikido or in Life.
Both practices, Aikido and living a life, require our constant and undivided attention.
Sounds exhausting, doesn't it? Well, that's why, in both cases, we need to take a rest. Away from the mat, in one case; sleep, in the other.
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I love Henka Waza! You just inspired me to work on that in class tonight. Thank you!