Aikido of Tamalpais' Winter Intensive 2001 with Hiroshi Ikeda
January 12-15, 2001

Contributed by Monica Mattar*

Aikido of Tamalpais recently held its seventh annual Winter Camp over the Martin Luther King Holiday weekend. Hiroshi Ikeda Shihan was the guest instructor, and as always his teaching affected me in a very profound way. For me, the experience of training with Ikeda Sensei is very much like that of dining at a really fine restaurant, which offers a menu containing a wealth of fabulous choices. Each time I return, not only is there always a full menu, but the choices are always varied and wonderful. And, there is something for everyone.

Ikeda Sensei does not offer Aikido to us as a static martial art to be practiced only one way, nor does he simply offer us a series of forms or techniques. What he does offer is very inspirational, but also very difficult to practice: he offers the essence of Aikido, an incredibly dynamic and vital means of finding Peace within an otherwise aggressive or even violent situation. He often refers to musubi, the principle of uniting or blending two seemingly conflicting energies, inviting us to find the "easy place" within the attack, the place where Aikido resides. Emphasizing principles over technique and vitality rather than form, Ikeda Sensei encourages us to dive deeply into our own training in order to "discover" the Aikido that will always work for us - for our own physique, for our own stature. And since we are not encouraged to simply mimic his movements, I am often able to discover and explore facets of my own Aikido that I might not otherwise encounter in a more technical study of aikido form.

Do Not "Make" ikkyo
One aspect of Ikeda Sensei's teaching that inspired me during this year's camp was the notion of having a particular form or technique "emerge". Rather than efforting to "make" a particular technique happen, Ikeda Sensei asked us to "find" or "discover" the technique. For example, during the Saturday morning keiko, while practicing katatedori ikkyo, we were encouraged to "allow" ikkyo to emerge rather than "make" ikkyo happen. "Ikkyo is already there" Ikeda Sensei kept reminding us. "You do not have to make ikkyo. You simply have to find it." Hence the goal is not to practice making ikkyo, the goal is to practice the principles, and thereby allow ikkyo to emerge. And although this concept made sense to me philosophically, putting it into practice was another matter altogether.

First of all, it takes a good amount of trust in one's self and one's own ability to train in this manner. It seemed much easier to delude myself into thinking that I can simply mimic Ikeda Sensei's movements. And, in spite of the absurdity of that thought, it somehow still seemed easier than taking away the goal of "making" a particular technique happen. At least the goal of "making" a technique happen is a concrete goal, with certain concrete parameters within which to practice. But to remove that seemingly concrete goal, also removes those seemingly concrete parameters. And although I know (in a conceptual sense) that Aikido is an art that cannot, in its most essential form, be practiced within "parameters" (or within one's comfort zone for that matter), I initially felt a fair amount of resistance to the thought of letting go of my concrete form of ikkyo. In fact, I wanted to cling tenaciously to that form, practicing to make it an even stronger, better and more powerful form! However, trusting in Ikeda Sensei's teaching, (and having many times experienced the awesome power of Ikeda Sensei's "emerging" ikkyo) I decided to explore the concept of "allowing" ikkyo to emerge through the practice of principles, rather than "making" ikkyo happen through the practice of effort.

The two main principles we focused on during this practice were that of ittai and kuzushi. The principle of ittai suggests that I connect to my partner in a manner that makes the two of us "one body". Connecting as "one body" assumes that when I move, my partner moves with me. Although the principle of ittai sounds simple enough, especially when watching Ikeda Sensei so easily and beautifully demonstrate it, I found it very difficult to practice. Trying to connect as "one body" with a 180 pound partner who has latched onto my puny little wrist with his full 180 pounds does not, in that moment, seem very wise. Attempting to escape seems wise, but the idea of connecting as "one body" seems ridiculous! However, as we all know, much of the beauty and intrigue of Aikido lies within its paradox. Just as the calmest (and therefore safest) place lies within the center or the "eye" of the storm, Ikeda Sensei was suggesting that the most effective way to deal with an attack (yes, even a "large" attack) is through a center-to-center connection to the attacker as "one body". Hence, in spite of the fact that my fearful (yet seemingly intelligent) mind, was enthusiastically coaching me to "hurry up and escape" from the death grip on my wrist, I instead took a leap of faith and chose to explore the principle of ittai.

In doing so, I quickly (and quite painstakingly) found that if I do not connect to my partner in a manner that makes us "one body", I cannot effectively practice the second principle of kuzushi, or "off-balancing". For if I do not connect to my partner as "one body", I will not be able to effectively disturb their center of balance. Interestingly enough, however, if I do connect to my partner in a manner that makes us "one body", my next movement can be very subtle and yet be very effective in breaking their balance.

When effectively practicing the principle of kuzushi, not only do we disturb our partner's physical balance, we also affect their mental balance by disrupting their thought process. Hence, during their brief loss of balance, they momentarily relinquish their "attack" thoughts for "survival" thoughts in an attempt to re-establish their balance. Thus we find the "easy place" to which Ikeda Sensei often refers, the place where uke becomes light and therefore easy to throw. Which brings me to the next paradoxical teaching of Ikeda Sensei during that weekend: "do not throw uke"!

Do Not "Throw" Uke
Do not throw uke? What do you mean, do not throw uke? For years I've been training with the hopes of getting really good at throwing uke, and now you're telling me do not throw uke? Well, if I'm not supposed to throw them, what do I do with them? These were only some of the questions cruising through my mind as I listened to Ikeda Sensei tell us to not "throw" uke. And in spite of my almost-desperate desire to cling to the familiar practice of throwing uke, I realized that Ikeda Sensei was once again bringing us face to face with another beautiful paradox of Aikido.

If the goal of our practice is to "throw" uke, then we miss the full substance and vitality of the meeting and interaction between uke and nage. In attempting to "throw" uke, my mind jumps ahead of where I actually am in the midst of the interaction (or "attack") as my body efforts to create the "throw". Alternatively, Ikeda Sensei suggested that if we simply continue to practice the principles of ittai and kuzushi, uke will fall. Hence uke falling down becomes the result, not the goal. And, even if uke does not actually fall to the ground, they are rendered ineffective. By disturbing their balance and taking control of their center, we take away the power of their attack, and thus diminish the capacity of their fighting energy. Ikeda Sensei reminded us that the goal in Aikido is not to throw uke, nor is it to make uke fall; the goal is to stop the attacking energy and change the attacking mind. Easy to say, of course. Very difficult to do.

Initially the difficulty for me did not lie so much in the practice being physically complex, the difficulty resulted from the fact that my ego really wanted to throw uke! In this regard, I was my own worst enemy. Eventually however, I realized that I was holding certain beliefs about what Aikido is, and what it is not. Such beliefs make my Aikido small, thereby limiting my own practice and my own experience. For in spite of what Ikeda Sensei was offering, I still wanted Aikido to be an art in which one "throws" uke. And although Aikido may indeed be an art in which uke is thrown, "throwing uke" is not the essence, nor even the goal of Aikido.

Fortunately however, my curiosity was stronger than my desire to throw uke, and I felt myself once again inspired to train in the manner that Ikeda Sensei was suggesting. What I discovered was that I can stay much more relaxed and maintain a much more natural posture when my intention is simply to prevent uke from re-establishing their balance. The process of doing such allows me to control their center in a way that does indeed render them ineffective. I also found that I was more aware of uke's whole body as well as everything around me since I did not have the single-minded focus of simply throwing uke. I see now that such a single-minded focus is akin to wearing blinders. Although there is clarity with regard to the goal, one's total awareness is greatly diminished by such single focused intention. Hence, the practice of not throwing uke was an eye-opening experience for me is certainly worth further exploration and even more practice.

I look forward to the next time I have the opportunity to train with Ikeda Sensei. For although he will offer a different "menu", it will no doubt be a menu full with excellent choices. As in truly fine cooking, each and every master chef can take similar ingredients, combine them in his or her own unique and personal way, and create a true masterpiece for the palate. And while one's experience of such dining may indeed be satisfying for the moment, at the same time one is often left wanting to return very soon for more.