“What kind of sport do you do?
We're all familiar with that question that makes us pause before answering.
“It's not a sport, or even a fighting spot.
It's a martial art...”
In my heart of hearts, I even wonder whether the term martial art is really appropriate.
Personally, I prefer martial path.
So what's the difference between martial art and martial path? (武道 budo) ?
This is precisely what aikido should bring about in us: a change of mental state, a profound psychic transformation, a philosophical application. This change is precisely metanoia, a word of Greek origin literally meaning a “change of view” or “change of outlook”, which sees thought and action transformed in a significant, even decisive way.
Art does not offer this profound change, even if it can bring a new look and a different perception.
Aikido invites us to achieve a genuine metanoia, thanks to its gesture-based learning and underlying philosophy.
Learning through gesture, that's what we all do in the dojo.
« Shomen uchi ikkyo, omote, ura ! » Learning techniques to forge a body that some call the aiki body.
Learning techniques to reprogram our defense reflexes, optimizing our physical and proprioceptive potential, trying to maintain a certain flexibility and physical capacity as time goes by...
But this should only be the tip of the iceberg.
It's commonly said that the function creates the organ. Our body will adapt to our practice, as long as it's regular, but this adaptation will have a certain limit: eyes won't push us in the back to practice ushiro wasa!
The main change will be in our brain. We call this brain plasticity. It's the brain's capacity to modify its synaptic connections according to our learning and the tasks we perform repeatedly.
For example, have you ever tried to put a complex division on paper and solve it as you did in elementary school? Not easy when you're not used to it! Why not? Because the neuronal connections you used to use no longer exist, and you have to recreate them!
Physical practice tends to be forgotten less quickly than intellectual knowledge, which is why cycling is not forgotten, but mentally calculating 13 x 12 can become a challenge more than thirty years after learning the multiplication tables.
The same applies to aikido. As we practice, we create neural connections specific to our discipline. We repeat the same techniques tirelessly, several times a week. As time goes by, the brain creates synaptic links and neuronal loops that will enable the practitioner to move and mechanically perform a gesture more and more easily and rapidly, in coherence with what will be required of him or her, for example when passing a grade or in personal practice. Change one parameter, change “style” or school and you'll feel that you're not as comfortable and that at least part of the work needs to be redone, new habits need to be formed and the brain needs to recreate new connections. The brain's plasticity kicks in, and in no time at all, you're back on track, more or less easily.
What do we ask of aikido practitioners?
The challenge is not only to defend oneself, but also to take care of “the other”, to create harmony out of a chaotic and aggressive situation... More complex, it must be said!
If repetition of movement is one of the mechanical means of achieving this optimization, it is not enough to achieve the very purpose of aikido. Active, conscious research is necessary.
The spirit (心 shin) must enter the scene!
In many disciplines, budo, dance, sport... it is said that the mind rules the body. To do this, we must become aware of what we're doing, moving from the shadows of our unconsciousness to a light that illuminates our consciousness.
From our emotions come our thoughts, from our thoughts come our reflections, from our reflections come our actions. And in turn, our actions will give rise to new emotions.
If we don't question our habits, our shortcomings, if we don't break the chain of what has been handed down for generations without discussion, we are condemned to always act according to the same pattern, to reproduce that of our elders and to bequeath to future generations our joys as well as our fears, our violence, our sometimes narrow vision of the world around us.
Aikido offers us the opportunity not only to think about our actions and emotions, but also to work on them.
Studying and training our mind will change our personality, even if the process is long and arduous, because two obstacles stand in our way when we try to perfect ourselves: habit and impatience.
Habit consists of practicing the same forms over and over again, almost automatically, without ever leaving our comfort zone.
Impatience, on the other hand, causes us to give up when we don't achieve our goals at the speed our ego would like; to go back to our habits, our forms of practice, or even to stop all together and return to our “old” comfortable way of thinking. We end up looking at the world around us from the same reassuring point of view. And yet, humans are profoundly lazy; they don't like effort. That's why, among other things, we enslaved other humans, to do our work for us; why we invented the machine, because slavery is too expensive and unethical, and it's better to have a machine to do the work for us; and finally, artificial intelligence is appearing to think for us... It's not in our deepest nature to think and question: it's too complicated, there's too much at stake...
No one is obliged to question himself, but that's what Ô Sensei has encouraged us to do with his tool, his method, his vision of the budo of peace, aikido. Of course, we are not obliged to adhere to his vision, but it is nonetheless the starting point of modern aikido and the legacy he wished to pass on to us.
So, the crucial question for each and every one of us, and the one we must answer if we wish to progress, becomes :
Why do we practice aikido? What's the aim, what's the purpose of getting on a tatami?
Technique is a support for reflection on our actions, an active meditation on our behavior with the world around us.
Learning to practice with kindness at all times, without harming the physical and mental integrity of our uke, controlling a situation with non-aggression, even in the most intense moments, first on the tatami, then off it, in the world around us. This is the exercise we're proposing.
Kindness must be the basis of our physical and mental practice. It can lead us to the love of which O Sensei spoke, a long and difficult path. Kindness in action: don't coerce, don't be rude, act with a minimum of intervention; kindness of spirit, don't impose your ego, respect the timing and point of view of others.
Once we've reached a certain level, kindness must be apparent in our practice.
The technical part is the easiest to achieve. We have a methodology created by Kishomaru Ueshiba, who wished to set up a nomenclature and codes easily discernible to everyone, such as omote and ura, as well as the passage of grades, which require us to progress technically.
We can judge relatively easily whether a practitioner has developed an effective, not to say efficient, technique according to the criteria in force in our discipline, our federation and our way of practising. Tori performs his techniques with increasing ease and speed, and is able to follow his partner's timing (ma-ai)... Uke falls demonstratively, follows his tori well, doesn't pose him any major problems, reacts as he's expected to do... according to the different currents and federations.
But how can we judge the mental progress that our discipline should bring?
This is virtually impossible, as there is no such thing as an awakening evaluation grid, and all those who have tried to implement such a thing have fallen flat on their faces!
This is where aikido becomes a true path. We are alone on the journey, at once the actor in our quest, the observer of our joys and fears, and the judge of our actions if we have the courage. It's up to each of us to constantly verify the fruits of our experience and practice, just as a scientist tirelessly verifies the results of his research.
And the task is made all the more difficult by the fact that fewer and fewer teachers are considering the philosophical transmission of our discipline. As a result, benchmarks are no longer set, philosophical teaching is no longer addressed, and behavior on the tatamis is less and less in line with budo and expected etiquette. This is one of the reasons why, over the last twenty years or so, we've slipped from being a martial art to being... a leisure sport.
The aikido teacher should be able to ensure a minimum of the founder's philosophical heritage. Today, this is no longer the case.
I'm always puzzled when I see a senior student finish his technique in a conquering, even violent way, when uke can do nothing more and is at his mercy.
Why try to build up a physical “harmony” in the technique, only to end on the note of a ruthless, testosterone-fuelled winner? In the space of a few tenths of a second, we've broken an attempt to harmonize with “the universe and the world around us”, as Morihei Ueshiba put it. We've just ruined an entire relationship and purpose.
The hardest and most discouraging aspect of any path is the mental aspect, the inability to change ourselves profoundly. Our natural impatience and laziness reinforce this, and our attempt to change is quickly aborted.
It's a sad fact, because we do have a tool, or tools: all those techniques we repeat tirelessly on the tatami mat. What do irimi or tenkan teach us? What mental aspect can these types of movement bring us? Commitment or change of point of view?
What is the meaning of the verticality with which we must execute our movements? Isn't it linked to the notion cited by Ô Sensei: “you must be the link between heaven and earth”. Why tell us, demonstrate it and not seek it out?
What does the partner's integrity really mean if we're in the process of crushing his wrist on a nikyo or making him execute a break fall on a shiho nage, which, by dint of repetition, will alter the integrity of his body. How many experts in their sixties have serious joint or tendon problems?
Obviously, each technique and each situation must teach us not only about our relationship with others, but also about ourselves.
In any quest, we are quickly confronted with our own limits: the limits of our bodies as we age, the limits of our brains as we get used to changing our habits or not, the limits of our thinking as we face up to our own fears, our own shadow areas...
It's precisely by confronting our fears and dark areas that we can change and improve. We need to know how to get out of our habits, which are both comfortable and sometimes perverse, because they leave us with our demons. Aikido gives us this incredible opportunity!
Beginners and neophytes often think that having a high rank means having acquired wisdom... Nothing could be further from the truth!
Just because I practice aikido, yoga, transcendental mediation or some other personal quest doesn't mean I'm a good person.
It's not because I repeat a technique over and over again that I improve as a person. It's because I try to understand what's behind the technique, the philosophy and principles behind it, take into account the person with whom I'm executing the movement..., put it into practice and challenge my certainties, that perhaps I'll be able to change my point of view, change my behavior and improve.
And then, little by little, the change takes place and the metanoia is realized.
It may sound strange, but learning to work lightly can lead you to reconsider your relationship with others outside the tatami. Learning to stay truly connected with your uke from the beginning to the end of a technique can lead to a rethinking of the way you communicate with others and really take them into consideration, feeling the other person, their fears, joys and demands, and acquiring a form of empathy for the world around us... Having a heart-to-heart relationship.
Personally, aikido has taught me, among other things, sincerity in politeness and in first contact: how to say hello with sincerity, to approach with a genuine smile, to try to turn this encounter and this code of community manners, which is politeness, into a real opportunity for communication with others.
I often fall back into my shortcomings, like everyone else. I'm aware of this and I try to correct it, just as one corrects a grip on kote gaeshi or a move. This is the dō of budo, the path to which I've committed myself. Otherwise I would have practiced a technique (術 jutsu), a traditional school (古流 koryu) or a combat sport. But it's precisely this promise of body and mind work that I came to aikido for.
And every day I ask myself this question: why do I step onto the tatami and bow to Ô Sensei?
Crédit photo Philippe Orsini.
Partly translated by IA
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