Everyone has different reasons for training, and different goals they'd like to accomplish through that training. There are countless different styles of aikido and countless more variations of practice methods and differing approaches to learning. One thing I have noticed during my aikido journey is that there can quite often be an inconsistency between the methods applied and goals sought, leading to what I feel is a gulf between stated objectives and the road to achieving them.
Being someone with a rigidly analytical mindset I struggled for years trying to reconcile what I was being told and the methods used to teach with my own training goals (and the stated goals of my peers and instructors). I feel like I have now successfully resolved most of the conflicts and developed a set of what I would classify as potentially controversial opinions that I'd like to share.
I know for certain that my principle instructor (were he still alive), and many of my peers, would not agree with my conclusions. You may find yourself holding a similar perspective, but please remember that these views simply represent my own attempt to rationalise my training and experiences in the past with the things I would like to get out of my aikido practice. They are not intended as universal truths, and may or may not help you with rationalising your own training methods with your goals.
That said, (as always), I hope that you might find them interesting thoughts to consider.
 |
| "Being the odd one out doesn't automatically make you wrong, but it doesn't make you universally right either..." |
Collaborative Training Does Not Replace Competitive Training...
...though it can compliment it!
In my view if you want to make claims about martial efficacy (i.e., the ability to apply your training in a "real-world", "self-defence", or otherwise adversarial scenario) then your training must include competitive sparring. That isn't to say that there isn't a place for collaborative exercises, but without testing yourself there are simply too many unknowns to make credible statements about efficacy.
During collaborative training (sometimes called drilling) you and your training partner(s) can work together to reduce the variables you need to deal with, which can help when learning new movements or studying a particular body mechanic. It's all about perfecting form and execution without the pressure and unpredictability of direct competition.
In contrast competitive training (e.g., sparring) affords the opportunity to test yourself, whether that's testing a theory you have, or stress testing the execution and form of your technique. Competitive training adds more variables and unexpected elements, adding pressure that challenges both participants physically and mentally. Typically most people will drill something extensively before trying to apply it competitively.
Drilling and sparring offer different benefits; drilling helps you to internalise techniques, while sparring helps you apply those techniques effectively in dynamic, unpredictable situations. Both forms of training can complement each other to reach a higher level of martial proficiency.
My principle objectives are to have fun and exercise safely. So my training focus is purely on collaborative exercises as these are sufficient to meet my objectives.
I Am Not Applying a Technique, We Are Performing a Technique
Understanding that my training is framed in a collaborative context has other benefits to how I perceive what I am doing when working with others.
Given that I know my training is collaborative I should recognise the role my training partner has in my success, i.e., a technique is not successful solely because of the efforts of only one of the participants - it takes two to tango!
This reframes what I'm doing both when I'm taking on the role of nage (the person initiating the technique) and when I'm acting as uke (the person receiving the technique).
As nage I don't "need to make the technique work" I can concentrate on moving my body in a coordinated way to create the correct shapes and structures expected through-out. If I'm performing a stretch at the end of a technique I don't need to make uke tap, this is a mutual exercise and all I'm looking to do is demonstrate the correct form and give them a good stretch.
In the role of uke I don't just wait around for the technique to be applied, I keep my attention and body active. Again, as with how I perform as nage, I mainly focus on what I'm doing to ensure that I can stay coordinated even in the disadvantaged positions that are expected as part of following a technique. I think about how I can retain as good a structure as possible in less than ideal circumstances.
The Roles of Uke and Nage Are Frequently Misunderstood
Often as with the previous item, it is thought that nage is applying the technique to uke and it's the sole responsibility of nage to effect the technique to completion, but this is assuming a very passive view of what uke is doing.
In many arts, the role of uke is seen as the senior or instructing part because in those arts the uke works to steer nage into using correct body movement and principles - guiding them to learn what the kata or technique is designed to teach and adjusting difficulty as appropriate for where nage is on their learning journey.
It is perhaps a convenient tale, but I have heard that Takeda Sokaku, the Daito Ryu instructor who taught Morihei Ueshiba was too paranoid to take ukemi for Ueshiba or other students and so always taught from the role as nage. One suggestion is that this became the norm for aikido based on this less than ideal starting point.
Considering that uke is there to play and active role in the learning that nage can do through-out the kata and techniques is one of the reasons why I strongly disagree with over-torqueing joint locks or nage that demand uke don't anticipate their next move.
In my view, uke should be actively feeling for what nage is doing both from the perspective of whether they are moving correctly but also as a means of self-preservation. Uke should strive to be just about one step ahead of nage so that they can provide an appropriate presence but also escape the technique safely when the time comes.
Escaping Most Aikido Techniques is Trivial for Uke
Due to the collaborative nature and active roles that both uke and nage must take, it can be quite simple for uke to escape from a technique before it's completed - they simply need to withdraw their cooperation and move away at the right moment.
Most aikido techniques, even those that result in uke falling, are not really throws (i.e., nage does not remove a support from uke - contrast with judo or wrestling). Uke is collaborating with nage to reach a point at which it's convenient to fall, but without that collaboration no fall would occur. This means the fall itself is a choice.
Once the fall has started the choice is mostly removed of course, so knowing when and how to escape is part of the equation. Similarly it's much easier to do so when coordinated.
This can be a very important tool to apply when taking ukemi to avoid injury if nage is breaking the social contract by disregarding the role that uke is playing in the performance of a technique, or if nage simply makes an error that could potentially injure uke. Knowing how and when to easily "bail" from aikido techniques could save you.
It's Not About The Technique - It's What You Get From It
You Do Use Your Muscles and Size Does Matter
I would say that aikido isn't a way for the small/weak to overcome the large/strong, but it does allow people of all shapes and sizes to train safely together. I feel we can attribute this to the well-defined roles of uke and nage and how techniques are usually trained as a form of paired kata.
It is often said that "you don't use your muscles" or "you don't need muscles" to train aikido, and while the sentiment has value from a certain point of view, I don't agree fully with the way many people imply interpret this.
A better way to think of this might be to caution against using your strength as either uke or nage to overcome your training partner (either to prevent a technique from being applied or to force a technique through).
When training you should seek to adjust what you are doing to find the minimum application of force that is suitable for the situation and person you are training with.
I Practice the Aikido I Learnt, Not the Aikido I Was Taught
I don't believe you should learn someone else's aikido, you should discover your own. This attitude has led me to branch out from using the same language used when I was learning, and in places to reject certain models, visualisations, and exercises in favour of others that I feel add more value.
I could write extensively about these (and hopefully time permitting I will in the future) but here are a few things in brief which I believe differentiate what I'm doing now from what my instructor(s) did/do and how they teach it:
- It's aiki-do and not ai-ki-do
- Atemi isn't a strike, it's a method to disrupt posture
- "Ki" is a metaphor (and not particularly useful one)
- Your aikido does not always have to be the same moment to moment (you're looking for development across multiple attributes, not just one universal solution)
- Your aikido shouldn't be the same as mine - find things that work for you
- Everything everything we do can be explained by body mechanics and psychology - no magic or supernatural elements required
No matter how good I feel I get at teaching, I believe there will always be an element of learning your own felt feeling, the need to develop your own model for movement that's tailored to how your body works and how you experience the world.
My goal as an instructor is to make the distance between what I'm saying and what I'm doing as small as possible, but I know that there will always be a gap.
In your experience that gap between what is being taught (and the language used) and what is actually happening may be wider or smaller than what I can achieve when I'm teaching, but I think regardless it's key for anyone studying any martial art to be self-driven to find ways to close that gap and fill in the blanks for themselves.
All Instructors Are Human, All Humans Are Flawed, No-one Is Exempt
Respect is a two-way street, and respect that only travels in a single direction is deference.
I've written to caution against instructors getting too caught up in the "prestige" associated with being "sensei" before, but I think it's equally as important that as a student you recognise that your instructor(s) are only human. It is vital to ensure you don't put them on an unapproachable pedestal or treat them with undue reverence which could leave you open to an abusive or toxic relationship (or even just to accepting bad advice about things they are not qualified to guide you on).
There may be times when the advice your instructor(s) give you is either inappropriate or just plain wrong, it may even relate to something entirely other than aikido. I feel it's important to ensure you don't "switch off" your ability to critically think and assess if what you're being told is A) safe, B) relevant, and C) credible. You wouldn't take legal advice from your personal trainer, don't take medical advice from your aikido instructor!
This opinion is closely tied to the next item on my list, but if you find yourself in doubt over the state of your relationship with your instructor(s), consider if you would be carrying your piano teachers' bag for them, or sorting through and untangling a bag of ropes for your climbing coach before being allowed to train, or addressing your friend from chess club as "grandmaster" when you bumped into them at the supermarket.
As long as you remember that everyone involved is human and capable of the same mistakes and suffering from the same flaws as anyone then you should be able to self-assess appropriately what you should and shouldn't accept as advice or expectations placed upon you.
You're Not "Old School" You're an Asshole
Enough said really.
If you pervert your position of trust as an instructor to create a toxic emotionally and/or physically abusive environment for the students in your care then you are a first-class fuckwit.
Such people often try to excuse their behaviour by claiming to be "toughening up" their students or passing on a "tradition" that they experienced through their instructor(s).
If you, as an instructor, cannot create a safe and welcoming environment for others (regardless of your past experiences) then you should not be an instructor.
I would strongly encourage any student who finds themselves studying with such an instructor to leave for the benefit of their own health. This is, of course, easier said than done, but the recommendation remains.
To anyone who feels trapped, please know there are organisations dedicated to providing a listening ear, and who can help you work through the difficulty of recognising abuse whatever form it takes, such as the Samaritans: https://www.samaritans.org/.
Finally, It's OK Not to Be Continually Improving...
...getting enjoyment from training is success too! Everyone hits a plateaux now and then, but if you're having fun and nobody is getting injured that's still a win. Consistency and dedicated mindful practice will pay off, whether you feel like you're making progress today or not.
Similarly, as an instructor you are not responsible for your students successes (or their failures). Do not take on that burden, it won't do your mental health any good, and you might start behaving in an unprofessional manner. Your role is to support and facilitate safe learning, you can't force others to learn and on the opposite end of the spectrum you certainly shouldn't take credit away from your students for their achievements.
I hope that these perspectives can add to your own and please feel free to share any thoughts it inspired in the comments.
Thanks for taking the time to read this post.
- Graeme
All content is subject to a disclaimer which explains the context in which all views are expressed.
Comments
Post a Comment