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Articles from Amnon Tzechovoy

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If you dare to attack me, Prepare to Die, October 2008

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On harmony, Efforts towards Effortless Being, and Remembrance, June 2008

+ Being a Teacher in our School,  July 2006
+ A Dojo is born, May 2005
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Aikido and personal change, May 2005

 

"If you dare to attack me, Prepare to Die" (Chiba Sensei);
"If you dare to attack me, Prepare to Die" (Chiba Sensei);
Some Notes on the Notion of Danger

A year ago, practising Aikido with Chris Mooney Sensei in Uzes, France, I experienced an alarming yet meaningful moment of danger and risk inherent in our school of Aikido. Mooney Sensei was about to attack me with a Tanto. He moved forward ferociously, forcefully. I reacted as fast as I could, but my heavy Gi, which hanged somewhat loosely behind, got stabbed through and through. The hole was startlingly big.
Chris smiled. "Every time you wear this Gi, you will remember," he said. If I had not moved so quickly, if I had reacted a little bit late, I would have been injured very seriously.
I kept thinking about, dwelling on, this moment, feeling the weight of danger As time passed, the experience of this split second event became most meaningful, bringing home to me the essence and philosophy of our Aikido school.
Danger is indeed a necessary part of our school of Aikido. When practising with real weapons we aim at the body and head of the opponent. We train our disciples and students to be aware of the dangers inherent in our practice, and to defend themselves adequately. This is an exciting characteristic of our school.
In an article from 1985 (Aikidoists Beware) Chiba Sensei asserts:
“The martial art (budo) is truly a frightening thing…martial art is back-to-back with death…if we were to find the unchangeable ethic in our Japanese budo, its source should be found in the relative balance of tension between life and death and between the self and others.”

Danger according to Chiba is not a mere incidental aspect of Aikido, but rather an essential component of our practice, without which a school of martial art is not worth the title.
Many practitioners of Aikido think that O-Sensei invented a new martial art different from the traditional Japanese ones. However, Chiba insists that this is not the case. He asserts that O-Sensei does indeed offer a new way for developing human potential. According to Chiba Sensei, O-Sensei's road to human development via martial art incorporates the traditions of these arts. Chiba Sensei explains:
…the transcendence of Aikido from the traditional martial arts as a new way of personal development does not mean it ceases to be a martial art, just as it is impossible for humans to stop being human or conversely to assert that their existence has been non-human.
. Elsewhere Chiba suggests that in the martial arts, there is no dichotomy of harmony and conflict. Harmony and conflict are complementary. The Aikido universe is complex, deep, paradoxical. Harmony, grace, and non-violence are as essential as deadly danger.
Why do we expose ourselves to real risks implied in our Aikido practice? What is the phenomenology of danger underlying the experience of Aikido? The co-existence of life and death generates excitement of unprecedented intensity. Men and women approach the further reaches of their capacities and endurance. Co-existence of life and death energizes personal development, checking feelings of depression and confusion.
Some people would consider these explanations as inadequate; why are people exposing themselves repeatedly to danger?
Part of the answer is to be found in the concept of the experience of real danger described by the French Jewish philosopher Immanuel Levinas (1934) . This, Levinas says, presents an invaluable opportunity and occasion for experiencing psychophysical unity.
Who would dare to deny the value of such an opportunity? As Aikido practitioners on Chiba Sensei's school, we know about all this first hand. We have at our disposal mere glimpses of the much desired unity of body and soul. Due to the Aikido discipline and experience we sense the gaps between our present incomplete condition and the ideal of total unity. Awareness of such gaps intensifies the motivation to improve and grow. As Chiba says in his article Discovering the Body:
Recognition of an imbalance, disharmony, or disorder within one's system, sensed within the body, as well as between the body and consciousness, is a starting point for growth. One might characterize the development of this recognition as a conversation or dialogue which occurs between one's body and one's consciousness. As the dialogue develops, awareness becomes clearer, and one begins to perceive the natural power or potential ability which has, until then, been hidden.
Friedrich Nietzsche; the 19th century German philosopher, explained in Thus Spoke Zarathustra (page 7) the meaning and value of sheer danger as opposed to mere survival which is the characteristic of "the last man" (der letzte mensch). Such a person, tired and weak, obsessed with survival and security, is truly inferior and undeveloped.
Mankind is a rope between animal and overman – a rope over an abyss. A dangerous crossing, a dangerous on-the-way, a dangerous looking back, a dangerous shuddering and standing still. What is great about human beings is that they are crossing over and a going under. I love those who do not know how to live unless by going under, for they are the ones who cross over.
In contrast to the last man, Nietzsche glorifies the existential condition of the ‘overman’. This denotes a man who creates his own values, who dares to take risks in order to develop and grow.
Chiba Sensei’s insistence on the value of intense danger is not entirely different. We, Aikido practitioners in Chiba's school of Aikido, take risks in our daily practice. Struggling to become better and more individual human beings, we gradually reach towards transformation and development. Exposed to actual danger and pain, we face fear and anxiety. Some of us cherish the opportunity lying in danger, but not all of us do.
I think we should become aware of the value of danger but also wary of fascination with danger; or, rather ‘danger in danger’, namely, the psychological danger of dissociation under circumstances of imminent threat to body and soul. As much as danger in our practice of Aikido is an opportunity for growth towards unity of body and soul, danger can also create a schism between spirit and body. We see practitioners who master techniques of martial arts but lack a true spirit underlying the quest for unity of body and soul. Hence, rather then being used as an opportunity for development towards unity, danger can bring about a split between body and soul. Those masters of technique who lack spirit are ‘without souls’ or an authentic sense of value. They are competent yet shallow. This danger in danger, namely, of becoming body without soul, is rooted in the practicing martial arts.
Another danger in danger is the withdrawal of the body. A person might be facing danger and yet lack the ability to master the body, as it were, make it work.. The Israeli master of Judo, Arik Ze’evi, recently explained the cause of his failure in the Olympic Games in Beijing. Ze’evi was knocked out of the tournament in the first round despite winning an Olympic bronze medal in 2004. Zeevi talked of "uncontrolled surge of hormones", of sobs and cries in the days following his premature knock-out. The body was not there in the crucial moment. Ze’evi failed to unite body and soul.
His experience highlights the dangers of the split between body and soul. An injury to the body will heal in time but a schism between body and soul amounts to a betrayal of what it is to be human. This forms the core ambition of the practice of Aikido.
Chiba's Aikido provides a version of controlled, disciplined martial art serving the quest for unity of body and soul. Danger is an opportunity for making a move towards unity, yet there is no ‘safe route’ by which to reach this goal. A true Aikido practitioner never tires of heeding the danger in danger as he advances towards the unification of body and soul.

Bibliography

Chiba T. K., Discovering the Body, in Sansho,
Chiba T. K. (1985), Aikidoists Beware, in Aikido Forum.
Levinas E., (1934), Reflections on the Philosophy of Hitlerism, in Critical Inquiry, (1990), Vol. 17, No. 1, pp: 63-71.
Nietzsche F., (2006), Thus Spoke Zarathustra A book for all and none, Cambridge University Press, U.K.

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On harmony, Efforts towards Effortless Being, and Remembrance; Some Notes on Chiba Sensei's

On harmony, Efforts towards Effortless Being, and Remembrance; Some Notes on Chiba Sensei's Notion of Martial Awareness

By Amnon Tzechovoy, June 2008

For years a certain question kept bothering me, a question I would like to share with my audience: if the art of Aikido is inherently natural and is of harmonious flow, why should one exercise for so long, and be intensely engaged in the endless Aikido practice in order to gain the smooth, effortless motion, the so-called natural, spontaneous movement.
Now, Chiba Sensei's essay The Study and Refinement of Martial Awareness provides, so I think, invaluable clues for answering questions such as the one mentioned above concerning the efforts needed for gaining effortless motions. To begin with, Chiba diagnoses ailments inherent to our Western civilization, ailments which obstruct access to man's and woman's innate nature. Thus, Chiba sees in over-developed mental activity and conscious behavior a major shortcoming of our Western culture; such over-development interferes, according to Chiba, with the deep fundamental logic of nature. Such logic – manifest in the behavior of animals – becomes almost inaccessible for man and woman. Union with nature is the highest achievement and horizon open for mankind. It means among other things a good deal of forgetfulness towards many layers of conscious mental activity. One has to renounce many of the benefits offered in the West for over-cogitative, incessant rational verbalization. In my view, Chiba insists on the necessary return to instinctual way of life free of all sorts of cultural coverings which prevent man and woman to be one with nature. This oneness with nature is equivalent to Chiba's notion of complete, totally open martial awareness. As he says:

I consider the term "martial awareness" to be largely associated with type of instinctive spontaneous sensitivity which gives rise to action that is altogether natural.

Thus, Chiba's ideal of union with nature is, as I understand it, re-union with our lost heritage and potential of self-identification with nature. As suggested above, it is so difficult – and thus in need of excruciating, repetitive Aikido training - because of the present way of things in our Western civilization.
At this point I would like to contribute a hypothesis concerning the dynamics of the Aikido return to nature and its forces, as I understand it. For the question remains::How can we understand the process of Aikido transformation as reaching, in Chiba's terminology, true martial awareness? Since in Chiba's thought Aikido discipline is closely associated with consciousness (the concept of martial awareness is of this quality), we need to think in terms of transformation of consciousness in order to understand ourselves as Aikido-practitioners seeking to attain to our goal (martial awareness). It is of course a long way stretching ahead of us (I mean thinking of Aikido transformation of consciousness). What concepts can we use in our reflection on Aikido development? Here, in this paper, I suggest that in-depth memory, remembrance or recollection, are helpful in our preliminary effort at connecting Chiba's thought with the psychology of Aikido consciousness.
I borrow the concept of in-depth memory from the great Plato. In his dialogue titled Meno he says:
Socrates: If the truth of all things always existed in the soul, then the soul is immortal. Wherefore be of good cheer, and try to recollect what you do not know, or rather what you do not remember.

In this beautiful dialogue Socrates brings a boy to realize that he knows a certain mathematical truth (the Pythagoras' theorem) by progressive recollection thereof. The boy is a simple servant; he has never learned any mathematics. But lo, he brings to life a deeply buried memory of a sophisticated mathematical truth! He successfully retrieves an almost inaccessible piece of knowledge. Thus, knowledge, according to Plato, is truly in-depth remembrance of being and cognitions available beneath our current behavior and awareness. This is the type of universal, deeply buried or concealed, non-individual mode of remembrance and awareness implied in Chiba's conception of martial awareness.
There are obviously big differences between the type of awareness possible to man and woman according to Plato and that type of awareness implied by Chiba. I am using Plato's theory of knowledge (or awareness) as memory in order to start thinking on Aikido practice What matters to me is the existence of layers of being made newly accessible by various means of remembrance, layers made available to us by virtue of our real, already in existence nature. We do not create martial awareness out of nothing. Chiba recommends spontaneous, smooth, elegant, instinctual motion. As I understand it, he means to say: we Aikido practitioners move towards effortless martial awareness by means of efforts towards a very special type of remembrance. Thus, by our harsh Aikido discipline and efforts we come to remember and be who we truly are, also perhaps who we have really always been.

2. On Chiba Sensei's school of Aikido
What is the essence of Chiba Sensei's Aikido? What is the core of us, as disciples of this school of Aikido? There are many Aikido-schools; they all teach such values as harmony, soft and powerless motion and yet, there is a difference. This is what I wish to explore in this paper.
A clear and obvious answer does not immediately come to mind, in a sense, it is impossible to say. For the essence of our Aikido-discipline is embedded in the body. Aikido-essence exists in deep layers of our bodily identity, layers that are not easily accessible to people outside our school. Thus, there are objective difficulties in transmitting it. Moreover, in principle it is impossible to transmit true the essential elements of our experience and perspective on life for the sake of people who do not have the "Aikido vibration" in their flesh and blood. In other words, verbalized articulation of Aikido experience is inherently paradoxical. This knowledge might well be obvious to practitioners, yet remote and almost mysterious to outsiders.
Chiba has long pointed the importance of the psychophysics unity, hence the dangers inherent in processes of excessive verbalization and ratiocination. Such processes, he argues, removes people from their inner potential. Yet another issue is at stake here: If adequate expression of Aikido's experience and meanings is inherently impossible and if verbalization and language are often obstacles on the way to connectedness with one's innermost being, why try to verbalize in the first place? Why, in other words, write an article? The answer I give is this: it is important to understand what makes Chiba Sensei's Aikido school of experience and thought different from other schools. It is important for us, Chiba's disciples, to distinguish ourselves from all sorts of truisms and clichés prevalent in the world of Aikido practitioners and disciples of many kinds. In this effort to make the distinction, to offer definitions however inherently inadequate and preliminary, language is necessary.
What makes our school of Aikido what it is? To begin with, let us turn to Chiba's own words, in his article The study and Refinement of Martial Awareness (p.4):
“I would like to offer my observations of Aikido in contemporary society. However much a practitioner's technique may appear splendid and well performed, in the absence of the three aforementioned elements, I consider what s/he is doing to represent somewhat of departure from Martial aspect of Aikido. I can appreciate the skill and accumulated efforts behind the movements; however, they appear to me like a fascinating display of human swimming on dry land.”

By his powerful metaphor of "swimming on dry land" and his reference to "martial awareness", Chiba points to the essence of our Aikido school and thereby establishes its distinction. For me, Chiba's words are most important as a challenge towards our understanding of ourselves as disciples in Chiba Sensei's school. As I suggested above, reduction or translation of Chiba's truth to ordinary modes of communication implies serious difficulties. Now, equipped with Chiba's own reference to the issue, I am on better grounds to elaborate further. To begin with, Chiba is harshly critical not only of current culture in the West but also of today's numerous Aikido schools of practice. Something is lacking, he says, in contemporary Aikido schools. What is it? Martial awareness, says Chiba.
As suggested above, it is impossible to explicate the meaning of martial awareness in our practice and experience. The presence of such a mood and kind of positive alert and openness in situations of danger and immediate challenges is too subtle, deep, buried in the unfathomable psych-physical unity of our body and soul. Chiba insists upon such a unity beyond apparent multiplicity of psychological and physical phenomena.
It is somewhat easier to comprehend the physical side of the experience. Naturally, one does wish to avoid any harm to the body. The psychological dimension is nevertheless more complex. One may well ask why we should undergo such an intensive process of overcoming fear. But yet, this exactly the point, the constant effort to overcome fear we continue this process to keep on moving and search the limitations of our body and soul. This is undoubtedly an element with enormous value, one that empowers the process of practicing Aikido. It turns one into a better Aikidoda and eventually helps one to become a better person, more courageous one. As the process continues, one becomes apt to handles difficulties and this amount to some kind of personal transformation. Exactly this virtue is to be found in the centre of Chiba's perception of one's development, or rather transformation, from a novice practitioner of Aikido to a teacher and to a teacher-cum-disciple.

Here is Plato's beautiful reference to the courage and greatness implied in the effort to know:

"Socrates: and I, meno, like what I am saying. Some things I have said of which I am not altogether confident. But that we shall be better and braver and less helpless if we think that we aught to enquire, than we should have been if we indulged in the idle fancy that there was no knowing and no use in seeking to know what we do not know; that is a theme upon which I am ready to fight, in word and deed, to the utmost of my power."

All we can do is speculate on Chiba's pregnant ideas and words, keeping in mind our goal; we seek to know ourselves as practitioners of Chiba Sensei's school of Aikido. Let us go back to Chiba's terse and harsh statement above, adding another succinct assertion:

"I regard Aikido to be more than just another martial art form, for its value transcends the boundaries and limitations inherent in the martial art form."

Chiba suggests that allegedly perfect practice and form are not perfect at all. What seems smooth, elegant, and perfect technical form might be far from satisfactory, far from an aim worth seeking. Indeed, says Chiba, it might be lacking the dimension of martial awareness. In our modern world in which, as I mentioned in the first part, we submerged ourselves in indulgent world, so we tend to perceive the potential dangers around us as minimal and hardly perceptible, and hence the martial awareness is virtually unknown. Our school of Aikido is about the resurrection of the attitude of alertness, consciousness of danger as well as harmony and effortless.
Cultivation of such an attitude is the essence of our Aikido school; as I tried to explain in the first part of this paper, it is resurrection of memory deeply buried in our innermost identity. Getting in touch with this kind of memory and remembrance is what we do in our practice; it is the essence of our school of Aikido.

3. Is Non-Violent Martial Art Possible? A note on Aikido Dialectics

Martial awareness is a notion central in Chiba Sensei's vision of life and Aikido. It is a subtle, complex and deep experience hard to explicate by words; verbalization we have previously referred to Aikido state of mind in Chiba's vision as “martial awareness". What is it? How can it be articulated by words?
In order to understand Chiba's thought and unique vision underlying our school of Aikido I resort in this final exploration to the philosophy of Emanuel Levinas. A French, Jewish philosopher who captures in words some dimensions of Chiba Sensei's unique experience and vision of the essence of martial art and martial awareness.
In the following I will try to use Levinas' conception of violence in order to explicate Chiba's Sensei's deep and complex notion of Aikido as a non-violent martial art.
In my first and second parts of this article I have raised questions of the essence and meaning of Aikido practice and experience. The recurrent, fundamental question was: how can we reconciliate Chiba’s Aikido with the notion of non-violent martial art?
We understand of course that the notion of non-violent martial art is paradoxical; we know that Chiba's Aikido is immensely powerful, replete with dangers to ourselves and others. And yet, it is inherently non-violent. How is this possible?
In his Difficult Freedom (1963) Levinas writes:

Violence is to be found in any action in which one acts as if one were alone to act; as if the rest of the universe were there only to receive the action; violence is consequently also any action which we endure without at any point collaborating in it.

Levinas' conception of violence as associated with inherent negation of the others' existence is very close in spirit to Chiba's notion of martial awareness embedded in the effort to avoid hurting oneself as well as others! In my view, from the psychological perspective, violence takes place by virtue of passivity (on the recipient side) and narcissism (on the acting, violent part) Adopting Levinas' suggestive definition, one is free to participate in an allegedly aggressive action leveled at him or to resist it. If one participates in the action to hurt him one makes that action violent! This is indeed a conception of violence truly paradoxical yet in my view deep and closely related to Chiba Sensei's conception of non-violent Aikido martial art.
Thus, being keenly aware of one's opponent's intentions is a precondition of turning alleged violent action into a harmless activity. This is how awareness becomes transformational, namely, transforming an attack into non-violence. In addition, Chiba insists the need to be receptive alive and active, so the Aikidoka is never a victim, and the situation become inherently dialogical. This is, in my view the essence of Chiba Sensei's notion of martial awareness; and that is how Chiba's Aikido school teaches non-violent martial art.
But is it not a predisposition common to any and every martial art, namely the insistence of being aware of one's opponent's intentions? This is perhaps true. But Chiba's Aikido experience and training consists also of something else; the Aikido practitioner is required to recognize the other-opponent as necessarily existent, never to be erased, and never be denied his or her being. In terms of consciousness and its development in the course of Aikido training the goal is no other than mutual recognition of one and his or her opponent.
The requirement of creating mutual recognition of one and one's opponent is of course very difficult to achieve. A person attacked often becomes paralyzed as it were, incapable of response. Chiba's Aikido is about the development of this kind of transformational openness turning a potentially violent into non-injurious dialogue.
How is this done? How is it made possible? It is appropriate to refer in brief to Chiba's Five Pillars of Training:
1) Centeredness.
2) Connectedness.
3) Wholeness.
4) Liveliness.
5) Openness.
Practicing Aikido in accordance with these principles means connecting of two persons through their respective centers so that they are both fully responsive in body and soul to each other and to the environment at large. It is total involvement and commitment to the other and to the world. In this sense, Chiba insists, Aikido practice produces qualities of martial awareness. Thus, Aikido practice transcends mere mastery of technique and technical competence; it is total training of the whole person.
But do we have true evidence of real moments of awareness and the efficacy of Aikido practice in this respect? I say, yes; we are witnesses to the power of Chiba's Aikido to enhance openness and awareness. In his visit to Israel, Chris Mooney Sensei had a talk in a coffee house with one of my students. At the very beginning of the talk Chris asked: have you noticed the presence of all the others in the café? My student could not tell. But Chris, fixing his eyes on the student listed and described one by one the others present around. This is openness, awareness made possible by years on the Tatami.
Unity of body and soul is Chiba's underlying goal and definition of a successful Aikido practitioner. Such unity is very difficult to achieve, a condition opposed to conventional approaches in the West. The contrast between the essential split of body and self inherent in Western civilization, Aikido practice in Chiba's experience and thought means a movement towards unity of body and self. The question to be asked is the following: how is our school Aikido conducive to experience of body\self identity and unity? We have referred above to the dangerous situation inherent to our Aikido practice. We have emphatically pointed to martial awareness as a necessary dimension in our Aikido practice. We have also explicated in brief the mode of Aikido openness towards others in the practitioner\opponent unified field. How is all this connected with the unity of body and soul? Verbalization fails at this attempt of articulating the most intimate and subtle aspect of our Aikido experience. I turn again to Levinas (1934) for a brilliant and succinct reference to the meaning of those moments of danger and awareness so characteristic of our Aikido universe:

In a dangerous sport or risky exercise in which gestures attain an almost abstract perfection in the face of death, all dualism between the self and the body must disappear…

Levinas was of course not an Aikido practitioner. And yet, in his reflection on danger, consciousness, soul, body and pain he was superb in capturing the meaning of our experience as Aikido practitioners of Chiba Sensei's school. Every one of us would recognize the truth of his brilliant association of bodily pain (an aspect inherent in our Aikido practice) and unity of self and body:

Physical pain can reveal an absolute position. The body is not only a happy or unhappy accident that relates us to the implacable world of matter. Its adherence to the Self is of value in itself. It is an adherence that one does not escape and that no metaphor can confuse with the presence of an external object; it is a union that does not in any way alter the tragic character of finality…

Thus, we recognize an aspect inherent in our Aikido practice by the words of a Jewish, French philosopher. But verbalization, of course does not meet the challenge of articulation of such an experience of self\body unity made possible in our Aikido practice. Martial awareness is rooted in a mode of remembrance deeper than conventional consciousness. It is a layer of animal-like ancient memory resurrected by practitioners of Aikido. In this matter, true Aikido practice leading to transformation of consciousness and recognition is indispensable.
Bibliography
Levinas E., (1934), Reflections on the Philosophy of Hitlerism, in Critical Inquiry, (1990), Vol. 17, No. 1, pp: 63-71.
Levinas E., (1963), Spirit and Violence, in Difficult Freedom, (1990), The John Hopkins University Press - Baltimore. pp: 6-7
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Being a Teacher in our School

 

Being a Teacher in our School

By Amnon Tzechovoy, July 2006

In this paper I will describe the impact of two forces affecting dialectically instructors in a school like ours. The first is a force unifying instructors' behavior and thought; such a force acts towards establishing a uniform, conformist type of teacher. Under the impact of forces of this kind teachers tens to resemble one another, thinking and acting in ways recommended within the school. The second type of force acts towards individualistic modes of behavior and thought; under the influence of such a force instructors tend to express themselves individually, often deviating from normative or conformist ways of teaching. The two forces mentioned above are conspicuously different, mutually contradictory. I will henceforth call the first type "conformist", the second "individualistic."
The question I raise is the following: how can we characterize the conformist force present in our Aikido tradition? Such a question reminds me a controversy between two of the greatest philosophers in the West: L. Wittgenstein and G. Frege. Wittgenstein adored Frege, and considered him a spiritual master. And yet, Wittgenstein criticized Frege on one essential issue; he thought one should tackle a rival over the latter's strong positions (not over his weak ones). (Frege used to look for rivals' weak points). Challenging a rival's weak points, in Wittgenstein's view, would not overcome a rival's position (since an improved version would be possible), whereas overcoming an opponent's strong positions would finish off his stance altogether. Wittgenstein is known to have said: "Go the bloody hard way." This is, in my view, a deep saying; it is indeed a saying expressive of the essence of our school. When we wish to create better teachers and instructors, we need, I think, to inculcate wittgenstein's attitude into our minds, and seek to make ourselves free of faults and shortcomings of previous generations of teachers, improving ourselves beyond limits of the past. When Chris Mooney Sensei told me it was time for my Fukushidoin exam, I realized – after many years of teaching and instructing – that there is a substantial gap between my conception of what is possible for me and what I can actually accomplish. Thus, I realized that in order to become a truly reliable and worthy teacher in our school I had to transform myself the hard way. It is, I think, a way in the spirit of Wittgenstein, inviting a need to renounce what we had learned in the past, making room for new developments often different from what we used to consider as our stronger points. It is indeed emotionally very difficult to accept our true imperfections. Many schools – even within the Aikikai field - focus on the trainees' powers, ignoring the weak areas which consist, I think, in the allegedly successful assets. However, in my view transformation and developments constitute the core of our value-system in the school.
But how do we actually act for transformation-sake? One thing is clear: by all means, complacency should be avoided. Neither disciple nor master should be encouraged to be complacent about practice and functioning. Neither should disciples be thrown into despair; a subtle boundary between complacency and despair should be made visible and alive.
Chiba Sensei and his disciples created and maintained a system coherent and cohesive, of specific character and attributes. Anybody experiencing the particular combination of weight (heaviness) and movement in the functioning of our great teachers knows what I mean. Maintaining this spirit the Sensei represents the next phase or generation of disciples in the tradition of Aikido.
But our tradition implies not only bodily transformation; it means an ethical transformation from the body (often tired, even injured) into the domain of value and spirit. This is the goal of Chiba Sensei as I understand it. In our process of training we need to realize our imperfections and weaknesses as we face authoritative figures not always "nice". We work from the body towards character-traits recommended, emphasized, insisted upon in our school. In this way we live towards establishing a common personality of masters and disciples working together for surviving in changing, hard circumstances. In this sense, the force of conformity is present in our school and tradition.
And yet, we also seek individuality of our disciples, teachers, and masters. Old Hassidic tales are to the point in this respect. Rabbi Bunem was old and blind. When asked about a wish to be Abraham the Father, he said: no, I prefer to be myself, as I am, for what is God's benefit for Bunem being Abraham, or Abraham being Bunem? And there is also the tale of Rabbi Zussia who visualized himself in heaven; then, he said, I won't be asked a question such as "why have you not been Moses", but rather the following one: "why have not you been Rabbi Zussya?" Thus, tension between conformity of character (and values) and individuality is obvious. Though Chiba Sensei was as powerful and dominant as he was, the individuality of teachers and masters following him could never be suppressed. We will never be able to be exactly like Chiba Sensei, but this is, in my view, not a failure but rather a challenging reality expressive of the aforementioned tension between conformity and individuality. We, all of us, have to find and express ourselves in Chiba Sensei's world.
I wish to end my essay with an advice I once got from a senior master of our school: "Do exactly what I tell you to do, precisely as I show you; but put into that some sparks of your own". This is a wonderful advice and wisdom, integrating the two forces – conformity and self-expression – present in our tradition ; I need only find the way to make it real and true in my Aikido-life. (Download as WORD document)
 


A Dojo is born; a note on Tel Aviv Aikikai

A Dojo is born; a note on Tel Aviv Aikikai

By Amnon Tzechovoy, May 2005

A birth of a Dojo is not unlike that of a child. A child is born in a certain family, at a particular moment, within a definite cultural milieu. There are to be sure difficulties on the way; yet a new being does come about at the end. Likewise a Dojo is born under certain circumstances, and like a child – it grows. As one of the first Aikido teachers in Israel, and a witness to the birth of the Dojo at the TAU (Tel-Aviv University), I venture to reflect upon some personal aspects of myself, and a Dojo-birth in the country of  Israel.

I was twenty something when I became a ballet dancer, a very real dancer with all that goes with it. But then I stopped dancing, and also ceased ballet teaching. This left me with a sort of vacuum. I was obviously searching for something whose nature would take time to unfold.  A rather ordinary conference, with a huge number of psychologists, became the occasion of my introduction to Aikido. I came across an Aikido demonstration, not giving much attention to it but still remembering the name of the person in charge - Eitan Ben-Meir. Soon after I became part of his Dojo. Eitan was my first Aikido teacher, and I was his student for about 10 years (from 1986). There were no more than 20 Aikido students in Israel at the time. Eitan had just returned from Californa, where he had received lessons from the students of Saito sensei. We effectively belonged to the Iwama School, which had traditionally put great emphasis on weapons.

Training sessions were very strict. Eitan was a no nonsense teacher, very demanding, to say the least. The group gathered around him was homogenous and idealistic. We were all young and unattached to family and jobs, eager to enhance the cause of Aikido. Indeed, soon after the dojo began to flourish, other Israelis who returned from their own training of Aikido abroad (for example, from Tokyo) joined the Aikido scene in Israel.

Eitan left Israel. His departure created a crisis in the Aikido community in the country. Indeed, we were left without a teacher and without contacts with a specific tradition within the Aikido world. There was no Shihan to support us. Thus, eventually the group surrounding our teacher dissipated. As no one had yet acquired enough authority to replace Eitan, each member of the group began looking for a source of support and guidance. Some turned to Duran sensei, Seki sensei, and even Tamura sensei. This was a good time for me to sample everything around. I myself was all too eager to learn, and literally participated in every seminar around. However, though eagerly interested, I sort of could not see the wood from the trees. The more I became exposed to the Aikido opportunities, the less I felt there was any direction to what I was doing.

A rather accidental meeting with Chris Mooney sensei changed my attitudes altogether. Soon after meeting him I knew without doubt that here was a sensitive teacher with a wealth of knowledge. His openness was truly striking. I never felt he tried to hold back anything, and was soon convinced that Chris accurately represented the school of Chiba sensei, in particular his views and techniques. Though not quite new to Aikido I felt yet again completely enchanted, and this intoxication with Aikido intensified in the course of my meetings with other teachers. My newly adopted convictions led me to commit myself to a way and to a teacher.

This feeling pressed on my soul, and though I taught at Tel Aviv University sport center for several years, I felt something needed to be done, urgently. And soon afterwards I found myself in front of my students. I told them my decision, deeply concerned about the way they would react.

Soon after the meeting, most of the veteran students left, as if they realized or presupposed that their previous knowledge had suddenly become irrelevant, or worthless. Some of the students, however, remained. Indeed, these students have become the new avant garde of the newly defined dojo. They were quick to adapt themselves to the new school and soon began to 'talk' and think according to the Chiba sensei school. Eventually the dojo attracted more students and nowadays it counts 30 students, with 20 rather active ones. In short, a baby-Aikido Dojo was born.

Now I should return to the home of that child, and, in more details to the circumstances of his birth. Israel in this respect is no usual place to be born in. It is a country far removed from the major centers of Aikido in the world. On top of this, the Israeli nation is continually under a state of war. The child was born in the suburb, not a very quiet one. Indeed, such circumstances of a dojo-birth proved an opportunity to realize and assess some of the values reflected in my practice of Aikido. 

I vividly recall how in the first gulf war (1991) I discovered some new dimensions to my attachment to Aikido. The Dojo was located in the south of Tel-Aviv.  Missiles had just reached next door to my home near Tel-Aviv. It was Monday evening, the time for our Aikido session. All cultural events were cancelled; people were invariably confined to their homes and families. Nobody was to be seen on the streets. But what about the Aikido session? Naturally, like the fate of other “cultural events” it was bound to be postponed (or cancelled). However, somehow I felt that Aikido as a way of life was no cultural event of the ordinary type. One does not stop breathing or being a father or a moral agent under hostile circumstances. There was no need to cancel Aikido lessons. After all, we were free to move around, to drive…. This was of course my own conviction; most people did not share my impression, and before dark Tel-Aviv became a ghost town. Nobody was there in the streets but people like myself, ‘with a cause' (of some sort).

 I was in no hurry; waiting patiently in the empty Dojo till one student came, with the gas mask we all had to carry. We conducted the lesson the usual way, knowing all too well that if there was a missile on its way to our direction – we weren't in the least protected against chemical weapons (people were generally instructed to enter some sort of enclosed space, to protect themselves against invasive chemical substances).

An experience of that kind revealed to me an aspect regarding the nature of aikido. For me, Aikido is not an amusement, nor is it a pastime to be dismissed off hand. For the serious practitioner, I think, Aikido represents a spiritual essence without which one cannot exist even against apparently inconceivable odds. As it is an internal property of our being, Aikido touches upon our innermost sense of authenticity, upon our very self-esteem. Thus it helps develop non-verbal comprehension of who we are. This primordial sense of understanding is directly embodied and imprinted into our mutual corporeal movements and gestures. In this way, Aikido is like a baby or a child. Its practice bypasses verbal behavior through the return to early pre-verbal experiences. This is the psychological reality behind my assertions (above) about the primordial significance of Aikido for me (as a “way of life”). The circumstances of the Golf-war opened my eyes to this reality and meaning. Sometimes, indeed, harsh conditions and realities reveal and expose one’s values and reality.

Others may experience Aikido in a different way. I do not of course claim that there are no other ways for one to acquire a proper and immediate sense of self. I am pretty sure that what I am describing now can only be seen or felt from 'within'. It seems to me that in my case, the extreme conditions, which are part of our daily lives in Israel, have somehow accentuated the role of Aikido for me. This I will never be able to leave behind, as I have no intention of going elsewhere.

The fact that Israel is far away from the Aikido centers of the world affects the management of a dojo, and in particular on the various decisions one has to make upon embarking on the long path of many years of practice. There is a problem in dedicating oneself to one specific school. As one wishes to learn even more, there are no clear and cut routes to pave the way. When there is no Shihan around, the encounters with teachers are rather brief and not always fulfilling. Thus, the socializing process to the Aikido world is generally lacking. This applies to etiquette – rules that apply to relationships with a teacher but also those that apply to the practicing session. There is no sure and safe way for one to become aware of his or her weaknesses. For several years I have involved myself in long hours of watching various video cassettes. This I do in between visits to Europe, where I tend to take seminars. It happened to me more than once that I found out about mistakes not previously noticed due to lack of external observation. Naturally, considering the investment of time and money in the process, I was often rather frustrated.

Despite of all those difficulties, I am now at a point of being helped, and feel very grateful for that. I have located the teachers who would not only teach me (and teaching is what they are meant to do) but also support me. They are willing to come to Israel to teach my students, and here is yet another stage of progress, not only for myself.

In Israel today there are various groups affiliated to the various strands of Aikikai, and our dojo that just lately affiliated to Birankai Continental Europe, has grown up from babyhood to a rather independent young child.


Aikido and personal change

Aikido and personal change

Anyone doing AIKIDO sooner or later realizes that emotional qualities are involved in the process; indeed, personal change takes place in that space created between persons practicing on the mat, again and again doing the same exercise. There is evidently more than a grain of self-improvement in Aikido. In this paper I with to examine some relevant elements in this process from my own personal perspective.

Several days ago my son turned to me and asked "Dad, who is the strongest Aikido instructor in the entire world?". After I hesitantly replied, he returned with yet another questions: "who is your teacher?". I said : "Chiba Sensei". The name obviously rang no bell, and he promptly continued with "did you ever beat him?". "No" I concluded. "And, will you ever beat him?", my son retorted. "No", I said "I would never beat him".

This exchange may first appear somewhat trivial, and yet my son sensitively touched upon one of the essential foci in Aikido: the particular harmonious relationships that its discipline entails. This harmonious softness is there at first sight when we look at the very name Aikido. Indeed, many articles on Aikido do emphasize “harmony” as the quintessential characteristic of this discipline. This concept of harmony, awasse, implies togetherness, openness to others . a kind of cooperation which this martial art brings to the fold of its disciples.

Strictly egotistic drives and personal rivalry and conflicts are part and parcel of the Aikido universe. For Aikido practitioners, harmony is desirable, but not easy to find.  The Aikidoistic world, so to speak, is typified by many rifts, many rivalries. I shall soon attempt to spell out the sources of these negative sentiments.

The argument I wish to develop consists of two parts; the first deals with the personal traits of those practicing Aikido. The second part touches upon the nature of Aikido per se.

Who actually is doing Aikido? There is no doubt that a person dedicating so many hours to Aikido is doing it not merely for 'technical' reasons. There is obviously something that goes deeper. Instructions directed throughout any class clarify that they rarely deal with sheer performance. There is nothing there that relates merely to the angle of the arm or leg.  Instructions by and large aim to the person in training, and to a rather total change in him or in her – that should take place in the next minute to come, next year or much later than that. "Be calm and composed", "loosen your muscles", "flow with the movement", and also the immortal "do not object". These instructions, so often repeated throughout lessons, point to the major aim of the person involved in practicing Aikido. Ultimately – and this is my main thesis - the goal is transformation, personal change.

Here then comes my basic proposition about the connection between the observation made above (about the essential disharmony current among – and within! – Aikido practitioners) and their choice of Aikido as a primary investment in life. I suggest that people practicing Aikido respond to primary unfulfilled needs driving practitioners to closure and fulfillment. In other words, considering the actual instructions given in the course of a typical Aikido lesson, and the non-harmonious initial condition of an Aikido community, Aikido practitioners seek (consciously or unconsciously) solutions towards harmony, a sense of solidarity, and cooperation.  Aikido is a martial art, but nevertheless it introduces an element not to be found in any other art of its kind. It offers battles with no winners and no losers. One of the implications of the basic Aikido-characteristic of no-winners-no-losers is that hierarchy within the Aikido community is essentially irrelevant. For indeed, how can one decide who is up and who is down? No matter how high you are in the hierarchy, you are never really 'better' than anyone else, for there is no criterion to make such a judgment. Indeed, Aikido never fosters “competition”, and is thus an unusual martial art.  I would classify Aikido as a 'soft' martial art, without any motive for hurting others in any way.

At this point I wish to return to the harmony mentioned in the opening paragraph. This harmony prevails as long as no violence is involved in the process. And this, of course, is a major value in Aikido. The following questions arise: Why is it so? Is it a constitutive value, or could Aikido exist without this principle? What Aikido philosophy lead to?

We should not forget, not even for a split second, that human beings are aggressive, by their very nature, even 'evil'. As far as psychoanalysis is concerned, aggressiveness prevails in each and every one of us. In fact, it is rather easy to demonstrate how the primal impulse leaves a devastating mark. The difficulty here is to overcome the primal impulse.  Side by side with destructiveness we have constructiveness and also creativeness. Destructiveness can impair or even destroy relationships, whereas its opposite allows for growth and creativity. Negative emotions might be envy, greed, hatred, cowardice or even vengefulness. Each one of us has at one point or another such emotions and they reside in us alongside more 'noble' emotions. As suggested above, even more than others, Aikido practitioners exemplify the need to overcome aggression and destructive rivalry grounded in the human nature.

Morihei Ueshiba created a cohesive structure that enables us to continually confront the destructive elements in men and women, so that we eventually become better human beings. often we fail, but perhaps failure is the engine that feeds continuity. This dynamics is created from the very basic structure of couples/dyads. As simple as it may seem, this basic component of AIKIDO is what makes it so absolutely unique. No matter with whom we practice, we always strive to master our inner self towards an improvement manifested in the ability to tune ourselves to the other, and also in being more co-operative. This quality of tuning into another person is what pulls us away from narcissistic modes of action and allows the evolution of mutual reciprocity.

 There is no coincidence therefore that in O Sensei's dojo there is a sign saying that 'disturbing your partner is totally forbidden'.

Harmony in AIKIDO is a regulative feature. It aims towards development of the kind that allows us to overcome destructive forces. However, as every teacher knows, some students do not work harmoniously. They are not 'flowing' or they are not 'soft' enough. They nonetheless continue practicing and this what challenges us as teachers.  Naturally, teachers run the danger of  resorting to destructive forces against such students. Our ego is put to the test by those who are actually there to attack us or at least check 'how good we are'. We are aware being tested but by virtue of the Aikido tools we do not let primal impulses dictate our responses. Surely, we might as well have some scars from childhood, some problems that might encourage us to go the 'wrong way', but with Aikido –a healing method – we are less likely to respond violently or even in a remotely aggressive fashion. My own conviction is that we are here to utilize that healing qualities of AIKIDO. It is not mere accident that made us come to Aikido. Once we are there, we eventually learn to be grateful of AIKIDO.

 

 

This announcement was hanging on the wall at O Sensei Dojo

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