From the first day of aikido, I never wanted to test for rank. I just figured I would learn, have fun, and exercise and that would be that. But then, one of my training partners wanted to test and was very nervous. She said she would feel better if I tested alongside her. So I did. The next time testing came around, Sensei said “just prepare for it, and either take it or don’t, but enjoy preparing.” Well, after all that preparation, I decided to test. I figured, why not? And every test after that was one variation of either of those themes, but never a strong desire on my part to advance in rank. I’ve always enjoyed the sense of focus that comes with preparation—how we are able to isolate certain parts of the art and intensely study them. But that was pretty much the extent of it.

And then the shodan test came up. I actually wanted this one. The problem was that one year prior, my aikido attendance dropped to about three times per week (from my usual six) because I was training in Brazilian jiu-jitsu four times per week. I was totally immersed in jiu-jitsu, and just didn’t feel comfortable with the material that I needed to know for a shodan test in Iwama style. And then, four months prior I tore the MCL in my left knee, so my training was again limited while I recovered. And, THEN, one month prior, I had a severe episode of vertigo (later diagnosed as vestibular migraine). Obviously, tenkan, rolls, and breakfalls were off the menu until I recovered. Finally, miraculously, I had a window of good health and free time and was able to take the actual exam. Fortunately, I passed and managed to avoid another attack of vestibular migraine until the morning after the test (!)

The whole experience was more meaningful for me that I had anticipated. Set right in the center of a year of bad health and injuries, it was nice to have something positive to strive for and achieve. Also, in terms of my aikido training, I feel as if I closed a chapter and begun a new one. And it was exactly the right time to close that chapter. I don’t perceive a black belt to be a symbol of mastery. It is merely an indication that one has stopped being totally clueless about the art and can actually begin to learn. More time can be spent seriously training, rather than trying to figure out where to put hands and feet. Techniques begin to feel natural, and arise spontaneously. There is more coordination of breath and movement. The intensity of the focus on the basics during the preparation period really burned certain things into my mind and body (even the Japanese names!), and they feel more a part of me.

I think that is the singular thing that differentiates this new chapter from the old—aikido movement/principle actually feels like a part of me rather than something “out there” that I am trying to learn. To really illustrate this point, one can look to Ric’s recent shodan exam: when Hoa Sensei asked Ric to do a jiyu-waza (free technique) demonstration, we were able to witness how aikido manifests naturally at a certain level of training. It was really inspiring to watch this. I look forward to this new phase of learning, even as I look back upon the six and one half years that led to this point.

My Aikido journey cannot be characterized as easy. I was not a fast learner. In fact, I think I was an especially slow learner. But I kept at it. After my initial couple of years of struggling, I became more comfortable with aikido just in time for us to change styles to Iwama. For awhile it felt like I was back at the beginning ,but I am ultimately very happy with the change. I also developed a great curiosity for studying other martial styles. I tried to learn tai chi several times over the years (long story), and spent an amazing year learning jiu-jitsu. Unfortunately, due to health issues, jiu-jitsu is not advisable for me right now. But I haven’t lost my desire to explore different systems, and either kendo or kung fu are the next arts that I am considering. Maybe I’ll even give tai chi another try. I don’t find studying other styles to be an impediment to aikido training, but rather an enhancement.

I feel that as a relatively new dojo (only 8 years), it is especially important when students reach the rank of shodan. It means that as a school, we are growing and moving in a positive direction. It is good for new students, because they are able to benefit from exposure to more experienced students. I can recall the early days when we had a mat full of beginners. It was tough. It also has a way of bringing together the school as a whole during the process of preparation. Our recent four new yudansha have really added to the overall culture of the dojo, and look forward to more people reaching this point in their training.

For as long as I could remember I wanted to learn Aikido.  I grew up in a small rural area in upstate New York.  The only martial arts school in town was an Aikido school.  Every now and then I’d sit in on a class.  It wasn’t only the flowing circular movements that caught my eye, or the rolling around or bodies being thrown all over, but the whole concept and principle of Aikido was compelling me.  It was so simple, and yet so genius…use my opponent’s momentum against him!  Harnessing your opponent’s energy, blending with him and then redirecting or neutralizing his attack was a novel idea, especially in the face of the schoolyard boxing matches that happened on a regular basis.

I was never an athletic kid.  A youth soccer league drop out.  Never played sports in school.  I was and continue to be an overweight guy.  I grew up with an Italian grandmother who would stuff me full of meats and pasta until I couldn’t speak anymore.  I no longer have my grandmother stuffing me – but I’m still very pudgy.  Needless to say, I never attempted Aikido instruction when I was younger.  But I never lost interest in it either.

I remember when I was in high school I bought a book about Aikido – Aikido for Life by Gaku Homma.  I read it and it only increased my fascination with the art.  I told myself that I was going to lose some weight and then sign up for classes.  That never happened.

Then when I got to law school, some friends and I almost signed up at an Aikido school.  We found a school right in town.  We sat in on a few classes.  It looked cool.  I never got around to doing it though.  But I did continue my research, adding to my growing Aikido library.

Then life happened.  Started concentrating on a career, then marriage, then children, and after that you find you don’t have time for much of anything anymore.  Those interests that I once had became ancillary to my primary responsibilities of work and family.

It wasn’t until I was seeking an Aikido class for my 4 year old little boy that I actually came to enroll in a class.  I went in, spoke to the Sensei.  I told him of my fascination with the art.  I told him of my desire to one day actually practice it, become proficient.  And then when he asked why I’d never started I told him how I thought I was always too fat and how I’d always set goals for myself which I always seemed to fall short on.  I wasn’t really sure that I could physically handle it. I told him about time constraints and being too busy.  But hell, there was always some excuse that could be used.  Not enough time, not enough money, too fat, too sedentary.  Sensei said that was all nonsense.  I left the dojo that day assuring him that at some point I would enroll, although I wasn’t absolutely sure what I even meant by that.  But the planets were about to align for me.

I don’t think that my drive to practice Aikido was ever based on a desire to defend myself.  I think it always had to do with something much deeper.  It was probably after the first time I got a real ass kicking in 7^th grade that I actually learned how to handle myself pretty well.  You get a few fights under your belt, high school, even law school and you learn a few things… about fighting, about yourself.  With Aikido, I was less interested in the self-defense aspect.  My desire to practice, I think, stemmed from a much deeper desire to, and I don’t mean to be trite or clichéd here, to harmonize with the energy within me, my mind and body, and then harmonize with that energy around me.  I was really looking for lessons that would teach me to view things differently, to attack the problems of life from a different angle, to experience life on a different level.  For me, that is Aikido.

For the most part, I’ve always been a very easy going, laid back and carefree individual.  My job after law school took care of that fairly quickly.  If the ten years following law school graduation, marriage and children, did not do away with it entirely, creating and building my own law practice, snuffed out any stress free lifestyle I once had, and took me in the direct and polar opposite direction.  I had now become an extraordinarily high strung, stressed out, angry, manic, type-A guy that I never ever wanted to be – not for my wife, my children or me.  It seemed as though I needed Aikido now more than ever.  I was in harmony with nothing and nothing was in harmony with me!

It must have been one of my son’s first Aikido classes – nobody else showed up but he and I.  Sensei said, “Well, it appears that you’re going to have your first Aikido class.”  Here?  Now?  I really don’t know what I was afraid of, honestly. Why I was so reluctant, I really don’t know.  But I can honestly tell you now that at that moment I had some anxiety.  No… I’m not ready yet.  I need to think about this a little more.  That probably becomes the problem sometimes.  You get to thinking about things too much, you start over-analyzing things and begin to create and manifest ideas and notions that may not even exist.  Of course, the opposite is true also… when you don’t think about things enough, but that’s another paragraph.  Luckily, through Aikido you learn to strike a balance to everything and anything.  And that’s exactly was I was about to learn.

I practiced that day with my son.  I can’t tell you the feeling I had, the emotion that was within me.  I was finally doing something I had wanted to do for nearly 30 years, and I was doing it with my son.  We were both doing it together for the first time.  The joy and delight I felt that day can only be described as intoxicating.  Again, without being trite, it was as though someone was opening up a door to a whole new world, and at the same time there was an incredible release of pressure and sense of calm and relief.  And the fact I was doing this with my son made it that much more special…it was enchanting.

Little does my boy know that he actually shared that special moment with me.  It was just another day for him.  But I guess he’ll find out someday.  And that was it, the start of my Aikido career and the start of a new love affair.  And little did I know what I was truly in for…

Congratulations to all of the kids who recently passed their belt tests! And parents: thank you for your commitment in supporting your children’s training. They couldn’t do it without you.

I had the opportunity to help some of the children prepare, as well as watch some of the tests. This is the sixth year that I have been involved in the children’s testing process, and I thought I’d share some of my observations. I’ve been meaning to put some of them down on paper for quite awhile. Now that I have a knee injury, I have finally found the time!

When an adult watches a typical Scarsdale Aikido children’s class, they may wonder if the kids are learning anything resembling Aikido at all (be honest, you’ve had this thought!) There is a playful, relaxed spirit. There are games. There is socializing. And there is often a lot of noise. The techniques that the children perform often do not look like the detailed, complex, and precise movements that the adults perform. Even when the tests come around, the children are often coached through their techniques to jog their memories. So…what exactly are they learning anyway?

As someone who has observed many tests in the children’s program, I can answer that they are learning a great deal First, I’d like to clarify what a test is. At Scarsdale Aikido, the testing process is another variant of the learning process. It is not an indication of mastery, on any level. We don’t give black belts to children, as the primary emphasis for children is to learn. From a technical perspective, young kids are not able to emulate adult proficiency and are not held up to adult standards. But if looked at from the standpoint of their developmental levels as children, they are indeed learning the art at a profound
level.

It helps to look beneath the literal movements of the technique and look to principle. In doing this, you begin to see increased mind- body awareness, timing, spatial awareness, evasive movements, balance (or base), extension, and the all-important ability to maintain the center. This can be observed with children as young as 5 years old who have been training consistently. On a non-physical level, you can observe improvements in concentration, relaxation, and confidence. The children are also gaining a preliminary knowledge of martial strategy (i.e. inviting the attack/counterattack, invading the space,
etc.) that matures as they mature.

Most importantly, the children are absorbing the core philosophy of Aikido. This can be observed during the part of the testing process known as “the questions.” To the consternation of the parents trying to prepare their children for the tests, there is no magic right answer to “the questions.” These questions are designed to bring forth what the kids have learned, help them to take their lessons off the mat and into life, as well as to open up a dialogue about philosophical and ethical issues. (Parents: if you want to do anything to help your kids prepare for this portion, encourage them to listen to the responses of
their peers’ tests and to think of their own answers.)

Personally, I find the questions to be the most interesting part of the tests. Here are a few:

“What is Aikido?” “Will being angry help you in a self-defense situation?” “During class, what should you be paying attention to/not paying attention to?””When someone wants to hurt us what attitude should we have and why?” “When someone wants to hurt you should you be afraid, confident, or tense and why?” “Is Aikdio purely defensive?” “Can a weaker opponent defeat a stronger opponent?” “How do you react when have something very difficult to do?” “What are the benefits of receiving pain when someone does a technique on you?”

The thoughtful, sincere, and often profound answers that I have heard over the years could fill a book. But I’ll give one recent example to illustrate how the testing process shows what the children have learned, and provides an opportunity to expand upon that learning.

The question was “When you are in class, what should you be paying attention to/ not paying attention to?” Several kids chimed in with different answers: “The teacher” “Your partner” “The teacher and your partner” Sensei then had the kids act out their answers. The child who was paying attention to the teacher, got attacked by his partner. The child who was paying attention to the partner, got attacked by the teacher. The child who was paying attention to both, got attacked by another attacker. You get the idea. It was concluded that you need to pay attention to everything in your environment. What you
overly focus on becomes your weakness.

One child did point out that we did not need to pay attention to the noise from the Irish dancers upstairs. We jokingly admitted that the Irish dancers are probably not a threat, but you never know. I think that groups of people who practice kicking in a line could be a force to be reckoned with. But on a serious note, practicing amidst noise is an opportunity to learn how to not be distracted or disturbed by the unpredictability of your environment.

For some of the children who have been with the program for several years, it becomes even more apparent how much they are learning. And as they grow older, their training begins to take root and branch out into all areas of their lives. My older daughter, Chloe (12), has been training for five years. I recently had a conference with her math teacher in which he described to me a child who was happy to meet challenges, relaxed and confident, and comfortable taking risks (i.e. not afraid to be wrong). I attribute that in part to her training in Aikido, as those are subtle principles that we seek to impart in every class. Along with, of course, the games.

If there are any parents who have similar stories of how their child’s Aikdio training has become part of their lives, feel free to share in the comments!