"Narrow Road to the Deep North"

Hey everyone. Sorry for the long delay. Things are crazy with trying to get things ready for my return to Ithaca. I don't know when things will die down, especially with Grad school apps coming up! But I feel I am finally on my way to resuming posting for the next three weeks or so to finish up detailing my experiences in Japan. Today's entry will focus on my experiences with Aikido. On Sunday I am planning on talking about my Home Stay family, and then I will follow with an entry on my last days in AIU, then in Japan, and finally two posts about adjusting back to the US and finally what I learned from my experiences. I will try to update Every Sunday and Wednesday if I can, and should be all done by mid-September. Thank you for your patience.

Aikido

One of my extra curricular activities while at AIU was aikido. Aikido is a martial arts form indigenous to Japan, developed in the last 200 years under its founder Ueshiba Morihei. See this wikipedia page for some basic information on the sport. I wanted to spend some time talking about aikido because it’s a really cool martial arts and it offers an interesting look into Japanese culture.

I am not sure exactly when or how I came to learn of aikido. It was sometime around my high school years when I was learning about Japan as an on and off hobby. What really attracted me to aikido initially was its principle of using an opponent’s force against him/herself. As the years went on and my world views have been developing, I now find its strong emphasis on non-confrontational self-defense to be very attractive, and its life philosophies timeless. It’s an art that is the most peaceful of the ones I have seen, which is not to say it doesn’t cause pain.

Aikido’s name is comprised of three kanji characters which mean “harmony” “spirit” and “way,” and can be roughly translated to “the way of harmonious spirit.” Its techniques comprise mostly joint locks, pressure points, and off-balancing techniques meant to temporarily disable an opponent with minimal harm and violence. There are no offensive techniques (or at least very, very few) and most of the skills you learn are how to respond to various attacks. Towards the end of his life, Ueshiba-sensei (Ō-sensei in Japanese, which means Honorable Teacher) began emphasizing a life philosophy that emphasized connecting and harmonizing with your opponent so that a fight doesn’t even begin. Different schools of aikido focus on different aspects of the technique, though I personally believe an organic synthesis of both paths is probably the most powerful. Traditionally, aikido is non-confrontational and does not encourage unnecessary competition; therefore there was initially a lot of negativity towards the idea of participating in tournaments and other martial arts sports competitions. In the past few years, however, it is becoming more and more common to see aikido students participate in tournaments, or even seeing an aikido specific tournament. There is still a lot of debate around how involved aikido should be with these competitions.

Aikido, though focusing on hand-to-hand techniques, also has techniques for the staff (jō) and wooden sword (bokken, or bokuto in native Japanese, not to be confused with the bamboo practice swords used in kendo called shinhai). Most of the hand-to-hand techniques are derived from sword techniques, so it is common practice to teach students aikido sword techniques if only to help solidify an understanding of the hand-to-hand techniques. In the US, belts are given to students to denote levels of mastery, though this is not common in Japan. Sometimes in Japan, after a certain level of mastery is attained, lower level students are awarded hakama, which are wide pants worn over the practice outfit (usually a judō outfit). A black hakama is awarded to the student once s/he reaches “black belt” proficiency, which usually involves five levels of introductory mastery. Once you reach “black belt” there are many different upper levels of mastery (dan), all the way up to 10^th (I think).

The AIU aikido program is headed by Kobayashi-sensei (sensei roughly translates to “teacher”) who is a 3^rd dan black belt who trains at a local dojo (practice hall) in Akita city. Practices were held every Tuesday and Thursday from 6:30pm to 9:30pm. I came to the first practice and fell in love with it, keeping up with it all semester. I eventually bought myself a judo uniform for practices, as well as a wooden sword (bokken) and staff (jō) both for practice and as keepsakes.

When I attended the first few aikido practice sessions, I quickly learned that it was definitely unique among the martial arts. The practices were held in the auditorium, so first mats were set up on the floor for the actual practice. A chair with a picture of Ō-sensei was set up at the front of the practice area. Before practice began (and after changing, of course) we first swept the practice area with small brooms, followed by wiping down mats with a damp cloth. Before formal practice began, the more experienced students (called senpai) led us in stretches, most importantly wrist exercises. After that, we then practiced “roll” techniques. In aikido, there are very few attacks, and the ones that do exist are there mainly to help learn how to respond to them. The defender will then practice the technique in question, which always results in the attacker being pushed off balance, thrown, or forced to the ground. It is important for the attacker to know the proper way to roll and fall so that injuries are minimized, which is why we were starting with rolling techniques first.

Stretches

Back roll (seated position)

Forward roll

"Samurai walk"

This was an interesting experience for me, but I found that I picked up the technique pretty rapidly, although to this day rolling backwards is awkward. I felt very “ninja” after I started getting it down. There is also a “samurai” style of walking where the knees are kept bent and you walk in a sitting position (seiza) across the mat. This form of walking is favored in the dojo so that you convey respect to your sensei even while moving across the mats. After warming up, practice began, usually around 7:00pm. We first sat in the formal Japanese style called seiza which consisted of folding your feet beneath you and sitting on your ankles. This was very comfortable for your back and spine, but absolutely killer for your knees and ankles; after some time your feet and legs would fall asleep. We sat in a line at the back of the mats facing the picture of Ō-sensei with Kobayashi sensei seated between us and the picture, also facing the picture. Kobayashi sensei would first call the beginning of class and we sat silently in seiza meditating for about fifteen seconds. We then performed a Shinto rite of honoring the dead by putting our hands in a prayer position, extending it to the picture of Ō-sensei, bowing to the ground and placing our hands in a triangle flat on the ground for one second or so, coming up and doing it again, coming up again, clapping twice in unison, and then bowing a third time, this time holding our position near the floor in silent prayer until Kobayashi sensei said arigatō gozaimashita (a phrase conveying thanks for a service performed in the past, in this case thanking Ō-sensei for his teachings) and we replied with our own arigatō gozaimashita, and then sat back up. At this point one of the senpai would be called up to help demonstrate the technique that we would first practice.

Ueshiba Morihei, founder of Aikido.
Referred to as O-sensei by aikido students,
meaning "Honorable Teacher" or "Great Teacher."

The student would begin on the right, sensei on the left, and the picture of Ō-sensei in the background. Before beginning the technique, sensei and the senpai would do a seated bow to each other and say onegaishimasu (literally “I beg of you” often used to respectfully ask for a service from someone, in this case it is used to convey one’s respect for the practice partner, and to “beg of him/her” to likewise treat one with respect during the practice). We would all likewise bow in unison and say onegaishimasu. Sensei would then perform the technique with the senpai twice in real time, then a few times more slowly and explaining the mechanics of the technique, then once more in real time. The two would then do a seated bow to each other once more, saying arigatō gozaimashita to each other, and we all followed suit. We then paired ourselves up, usually a junior student with a senior student (senpai). Once deciding on the pair we always began by doing a seated bow and saying onegaishimasu, and when sensei stopped us to move on to a new technique, we would bow again and thank each other saying arigatō gozaimasu.

As you can see, there is some level of formality to the practice, and with a strong Shinto undercurrent. However, these structures really stem from the intrinsic desire to respect one’s practice partner and ultimately one’s opponent. During the practice, the partner who receives the technique (uke) begins by attacking his partner (nage or “thrower”) who then applies an aikido technique to neutralize the attack. After a few practices the two switch roles. Aikido’s training is encompassed in both the uke and nage roles. The nage obviously learns the aikido technique and also how to anticipate and blend the partner’s actions. The uke learns to relax during uncomfortable and off-balanced positions, as well as how to safely roll, parry, and respond in this disadvantaged position. In all instances, the safety of the partner is of utmost consideration, and signals are used to alert the partner when a technique has been completed so that injury is minimized. (Most aikido joint locks, if applied with even medium force, can cause immense pain or even break wrists, so it is important to start slow and pay attention to your uke partner’s reaction. There are also pressure point practices as well).

I absolutely fell in love with aikido. What I loved most was its careful consideration of the opponent’s safety, and the ability to control aggression without extreme violence. I enjoyed the little formalities of bowing and respecting one’s partner because it made the practice much more group oriented, with the two working as a team rather than as individuals. Perhaps I am waxing poetic at this point, but there is definitely a certain level of compassion and respect imbued within the art.

There were about six or seven students at almost every aikido practice, and about three or four of us came each practice while others rotated in when they could fit it into their schedule. Most of the students were girls, some Japanese, some international students from China and Singapore. Almost none of them were over my shoulder in height. This gave them an advantage in some techniques but a serious disadvantage in others, but ensured really good practice. Fortunately for me, there was one other international student who came to practice regularly. His name was Leo, he was from Austria, 22 years old, and he and I became good friends over the semester (he was also in my Japanese language class). He was about my height and about the same build, so we were a perfect match for each other. We had a lot of fun together. As we grew more comfortable with each other, we also started to get a bit more competitive. Normally this would be frowned upon in aikido, but we were competitive in a very positive way that enhanced rather than detracted from the practice. When we were uke we would try to make it as hard as possible for the other to perform the technique, which then forced us to really learn the technique as the nage partner. We never let our competitiveness cloud our focus on each other’s safety, though, so while we were trying our best to make it difficult for the other, we also did our best to closely watch to make sure we didn’t hurt each other unnecessarily. It was really good practice, and a lot of fun.

Leo Ladenhauf of Austria.

The coolest experience with aikido was when I had the opportunity to visit Kobayashi-sensei’s dojo in Akita city for a regular practice and for a proficiency test (I didn’t actually take the test) one Sunday morning. The first time I went was during a session devoted exclusively for proficiency tests. I was going mainly to watch and so I could learn where the dojo was located. I went with a Japanese AIU student (Shō) who was going for her third level of proficiency (she was also the leader for the AIU Aikido club). The dojo was about a half hour’s walk from the Akita city train station. The dojo was a small wooden house, Japanese style, with a sign out front (which I couldn’t read, of course). Kobayashi-sensei met us out front and walked us in. There was a wooden sliding door with the top part cut into a grid pattern so you could see inside. We entered a small foyer area where we could remove our shoes and leave them in little cubbies. So far, very Japanese. There was another set of sliding doors that opened onto the main dojo area. The space occupied most of the first floor of the house, completely open in space with tatami (woven straw used in traditional rooms and homes) mats with a thick plastic-type cover over them to give the floor a smooth texture. There was a thin strip of wooden floor between the door and the tatami mat that ran horizontal to us, allowing you to walk to the changing rooms, bathroom and stairs without having to step onto the tatami. On the far side of the room the wall was divided into three different sections, the left-most consisting of a beautiful hanging scroll with calligraphy and flower arrangement, the center one devoted to Ō-sensei with a small shrine dedicated to him on a high shelf, and more calligraphy (and rules) hanging on the center wall. On the top of the wall were many pictures of the former masters of the dojo down to the present. On the far left there was a rack with wooden practice weapons.

Dojo interior.

Shrine to O-sensei, Morihei Ueshiba.

As we stepped out of the entrance foyer we kneeled down and performed the same small ceremony that we do to begin aikido practice, honoring Ō-sensei with bows and claps of the hands. Kobayashi-sensei went to a nearby room reserved for senpai (in this case, black belts) to change into his practice outfit while Shō, being the only girl in the dojo, was shown to an upstairs room to change. There were already many students, both young (high school age) and old (upper twenties) all dressed in white judō uniforms. They were stretching and warming up, occasionally trying not to be obvious about their interest in me. Additionally, one by one six different black belt students arrived as well, their black hakama marking their proficiency, and their ages ranging from what seemed to be the upper twenties all the way into middle age. So far, it was all men, including the students, aside from Shō who by this point had returned dressed and was trying to get over her shyness so that she could warm up. Once again, my poor Japanese skills really frustrated me, but I did my best to be respectful.

The black belt students (senpai or elder student).
Kobayashi sensei is pictured on the right with a jo (staff).

Finally, an older gentleman, maybe in his upper forties, also dressed in black hakama stepped out of a small raised office to the side of the dojo practice area, came into the room and sat in seiza style. By the way that he sat and watched us, as well as the way that the senpai acted around him, I took him to be the master of the dojo. I noticed him eying me every now and then, but it was always a welcoming, curious and somewhat bemused expression in his eyes, and when our eyes met at one point I gave him a small bow which seemed to go over very well. I felt much more at ease. Finally, he called the beginning of practice. All of the beginning students (I sat at the very bottom of the line) lined up at the back of the mats facing the shrine to Ō-sensei while the black belts (I will refer to them as senpai from now on) sat on the right wall. We went through the normal rituals, and then the master spoke some words. He asked me to introduce myself (all in Japanese mind you) and I quickly and nervously announced my name and that I was an international student at AIU from America. We then sat in seiza as each student one by one performed his test.

The master of the dojo sat in one corner with a small laminated list of the techniques to be tested. The student in question would come up with his practice partner (uke) using the “samurai walk” to move to the center of the mats. They both would then honor Ō-sensei by remaining in a seated position, extending their hands in a prayerful gesture and bowing low and saying onegaishimasu. They would then both shift to face the sensei and bow (without the prayer gesture, as that is reserved for the dead) and once again said onegaishimasu. Finally they faced each other (again in a seated position) and bowed to each other, again saying onegaishimasu. Sensei would then announce the technique to be performed and ask the student to repeat it until he was satisfied with its performance, sometimes pausing to offer advice or a correction. Though I could tell the students were nervous, and though there was still that characteristically Japanese desire for perfection in both the sensei and the student, I didn’t see the test as being super critical. It was clear that the sensei was more interested in making sure the student understood the fundamentals of the techniques rather than grilling him on every single motion. I found it to be a much more relaxed testing experience than I originally thought it was going to be.

Unfortunately, there were almost ten students taking the test, which got to be very uncomfortable. I shifted my legs and occasionally sat cross legged to give them a break (that’s allowed) though even then one or two of my legs would frequently go numb. Shō was taking an upper level test (not a black belt one, mind you) and one of the senior senpai conducted her test. Another, younger senpai acted as her uke partner. Her test was a lot longer, and definitely harder, though I recognized many of the techniques as I had also practiced them a couple of times over the course of the semester. The sensei for her test was much, much more critical of her performance, and stopped to give a critique or suggestion for every single technique. At first I wondered if it was because she was a girl, but I soon dismissed that notion and felt it was born out of the fact that it was an upper level test and he wanted to be much more involved in the examination. I could tell that she was getting frustrated at times but tried not to let it show (I had been learning to read Japanese emotions a bit better, though, and could tell that she was getting disheartened, although to most people she would probably have seemed pretty relaxed). She finally did finish, and did pass. When I talked to Kobayashi-sensei about it, he said that it was common to conduct the upper level test like that, usually to emphasize another way of performing the technique and to also learn to perform under pressure. Again, the intention wasn’t to fail the student but to rather push and help the student really learn the techniques. Still, I would have felt a bit flustered myself if I was in Shō’s position.

Afterwards, the dojo’s master hosted a lunch, but before that the first year students cleaned up the dojo by sweeping and then wiping down the tatami mats. I chipped in as well. I went with Kobayashi-sensei to pick up some things for the lunch and then helped lay it out. We sat at there tables arranged in a three-sided square fashion. I sat with Shō, who I needed to help interpret for me. The food was all standard Japanese fare, including lots and lots of vegetables, some fish, rice balls, etc. It was a lot of food, and pretty good. I also got a quick crash course in Japanese dining etiquette, which basically entailed serving the people beside you before eating yourself. This especially went for drinks, which you never poured for yourself, but instead had to stay conscious of your neighbor’s glasses and offer to refill when they were running low. At one point towards the end of the meal, the dojo master gave a little speech and then invited people to say something. The older senpai gave small speeches which I of course couldn’t follow. The students were much more to the point, saying their name, their year in school, when they began aikido, etc. Fortunately, I could handle that much, and I introduced myself again, saying that I had begun Aikido that same April and that I found it very fun and hoped to continue when I returned to the US.

After a few hours, after much eating, and then helping to clean up and everything, we finally headed out. Before leaving, we stopped by the small room where the dojo master was seated and said thank you. I promised I would return that same Wednesday for practice. He said he was excited to see me at practice and in practice gear. I thanked him for the lunch and then we headed out. While entering the dojo was a formal but individual affair, leaving was a bit of a bigger matter. We stopped and faced the back wall dedicated to Ō-sensei, coming to a seiza seated position. When it was obvious that we were leaving, the rest of the people in the dojo quickly moved to the side walls and sat in seiza as well, seeing us off. We performed the same bowing and clapping ritual, saying arigatō gozaimasu first to the shrine of O-sensei and then to the two rows of aikido students, who bowed in reply and responded with a thank you of their own. We then stepped back into the front foyer, closing the first screen door and putting on our shoes, and then finally leaving the dojo. I knew from having done this ritual many times that same day when others left that they would all remain seated until we had left the front porch of the dojo, remaining respectfully silent the entire time. The whole day left with me with a deep impression of a current of Japanese culture that you don’t always see in Tōkyō or other more modern areas of Japan.

On Wednesday, a good friend of Kobayashi-sensei, an American who had studied at the dojo many years ago and had since returned to the US, was coming to visit the dojo, and I had promised to come to practice to meet him and also participate in the regular practice session. Additionally, another Japanese student from our Aikido club was coming with me to take the first test since she couldn’t make it to the regular testing session. I was a little bit more nervous but also excited to meet Jim.

I was a lot more comfortable with the little formalities of being at the dojo, but now was a regular practice session, which still threw a few curve balls at me. We began as usual, the beginning students sitting at the front of the tatami while the senpai lined up along the right hand wall. Afterwards, Kobayashi-sensei came up as the dojo master began with the first technique. The dojo master explained things in Japanese, of course, but fortunately the techniques were all ones that I had either done before or had done in a slightly different manner, so I was able to follow along for the most part. Then he had us partner up. At this point, all of the beginning students literally ran to their favorite black belt senpai to practice with, while I moved a little bit more slowly. It was kind of unnerving, but I fell into it okay. The senpai were all pretty accommodating, and they all worked my ass off. I had to use as much power as I had when trying to resist as an uke partner, and had to work my best to move smoothly and confidently when I was practicing the aikido technique.

For one technique I was paired up with Jim, which was definitely one of the best practice sessions I had that night. He looked to be in his thirties, around the same age as Kobayashi-sensei. I quickly introduced myself and then we went right into the practice. When I was the nage partner, he quickly showed me where I was pushing too forcefully or not holding correctly by deftly escaping and retaliating with a countermove that showed me where I had made the mistake. He also was able to explain to me what I was doing wrong and what I should do to perform better, which was really helpful. As the uke partner he quickly showed me how to best roll and position myself to defend myself from other possible attacks as he rolled me around the floor like a rag doll (he needs to practice too!). This was a great session because he showed me just how focused you had to be as either partner, how much effort needed to go into both halves of the practice, and also how effect and violent aikido could be if you really wanted it to.

At the end of practice I was exhausted, my whole body trembling slightly from the exertion, but feeling very alive and very good about myself. I was happy it was over, though, because I was having trouble maintaining the same effort for the whole session. They then had my fellow AIU student take her test, and I acted as her uke partner for the test. It went pretty smoothly for the most part.

After the practice, we cleaned up as usual and then had some cold green tea for refreshment. A few of the older black belt students took turns practicing with Jim since he was just visiting for a couple of practices and he was pretty good. I was surprised that he was able to go for as long as he did. At the end we took some pictures together, and then I bid my adieu to Jim, the dojo, and my semester of aikido practice. It was a great experience, and I hope to continue to practice in the coming years.