Written by Ivan Melo
In the world of Aikido, it has become extremely popular to talk about styles. The most common one, is considering a political entity or institution a “style”. “They are Aikikai”, “he is from Iwama”, “she does Tomiki” and so on. Also often frequent, is the assumption that being in a particular institution, means you will have the same “style” (as in ability and/or proficiency), either physical or spiritual, as the teacher who founded such institution.
Certain presumptions can be even shallower. For instance, upon meeting someone for the first time not too long ago in Japan, they equated that I was from Chiba sensei’s lineage just because I was wearing an indigo cotton hakama. (Just for the record and if you care about my dressing choices, I just love the feel of heavy cotton and the traditional process that generates the stunning Indigo blue from the Aizome dye).
Perhaps, this focus on style became stronger with modernity. The consumerist and image driven societies most of us live in now, are great grounds for shallow conclusions, like “you wear an indigo hakama, therefore you are from Birankai”.
Another example of such, was what a friend of mine told me a while ago. He is a very respected and experienced teacher in Brazil, and he mentioned he had noticed more people moving as if they were being filmed whilst training. Interesting right? They were trying to achieve a pre-determined, aesthetically pleasing way of moving that had little to do with what he was showing.
If we look at some well-known teachers, there might be and there are recognizable patterns or approaches of training used by and associated with them, such Yamada sensei, or Saotome sensei, or Okamoto sensei, etc… So, the temptation to define their way as a “style” is still there.
The term “style” broadly refers to a distinctive manner of expression, behavior, or performance. In each context where it is applied to, “style” signifies a unique, often recognizable pattern or approach that distinguishes one entity from another.
However, if style then is “uniqueness”, then surely there are as many styles as there are people alive? There was only one Chiba sensei, only one Donovan Waite, only one you and one me. Therefore, it does not matter how much and how long I try, I will never have their or anyone else’s Aikido, from day one until my last day on the mat, I can only be myself.
So no style is better than the other on one level, but as Shunryu Suzuki famously said “each of you are perfect the way you are… and you can use a little improvement”.
Because, whether we like it or not, we all share a similar biomechanical constitution, which respects certain natural laws operating in this planet and if one wants to learn to fight with or without weapons, standing up, or on the ground, long to close distance, there are methods to help them to do so efficiently.
A method, by definition, provides a way to encapsulate functionality, programming and maintaining a way of behaving. An efficient method is one that can do that in the least amount of time, effort, and resources in a consistent manner.
In his 1962 radio interview, O Sensei when queried about his martial skills, if they were unique to him or if there was a method where people could learn them, replied: there is a method.
If that is the case, and I believe it is, we must occupy ourselves with the task of understanding the physical principles that underly Aikido as a method, not intellectually necessarily (although an important part of it, if it was only intellectually, doctors in physics would be the best martial artists), but mainly in our physical practice.
For instance, people love quoting the Mike Tyson phrase “everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face”. The overuse of the phrase is a testament that the physical reality of the bones of a 100 kg man, ballistically propelled through space, obeying the physical laws of nature and accurately hitting another man’s jaw with 126kg per cm2 of force, is a hard one to argue with. To give some perspective, an untrained average person produces a punch of about 10kg/cm2.
Tyson is someone who in his chosen sport, sought for the most efficient ways to maneuver his body to win a fight, hopefully through the ultimate, undisputed way of winning in boxing: by a knockout.
People then usually say: oh, but I don’t train Aikido to fight. And that’s ok!
Be that as it may, even if all we want to achieve is a high level of execution of Aikido’s techniques, enjoy training in a non-combative environment, if we are objective (and I think Aikidokas are notorious for their lack of objective reflection) we still need to understand how to maneuver our bodies efficiently and respecting principles of martial/energetic engagement according to the art.
Who has never heard “oh, you need to feel him/her to KNOW”? As if there are some magical workings happening in their technique. This phenomenon is usually observed in a very high-ranking person, who can barely stand up straight, are more off balanced then their own ukes who are just jumping around them (probably because otherwise there would be nothing else to do).
Let us say you want to learn the piano and to be able to play Beethoven’s sonatas, there will be better methods to do so and better teachers to help you accomplish that, unless you are happy with only playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Similarly in Aikido, we will see that there are methods more effective than others to achieve the goals of the art.
Two examples spring to mind, of people who joined my sensei’s dojo over the years. They came from other places, other Aikido methods (not styles) and they usually come because he was one of his sensei’s closest students, so there is an expectation and a mystique associated with that.
Neither of them was up to the task, technically, physically, or mentally speaking. The first person did not succeed in letting go of their fear, their pride and ignorance, which is what it comes down to – last time I saw this person their body was still weak, untrained, and unskilled. I suppose playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star was their choice.
The second person? Still at the dojo, working hard and smart, achieving greater and greater heights.
Why did I mention this? Because “being one with the universe through Aikido”, which is the claim of some dojos, is pretty difficult to experience it if our earthly body lacks mobility, is weak and stiff and our ukemis are underdeveloped. I believe only when a more efficient method of training is continuously practiced, the Budoka can tap into higher realms of consciousness and produce wisdom from it.
Going back to use music playing as a parallel for reflection, there’s much more than technique in the music of Bach, Beethoven, John Coltrane or Yamandu Costa, for instance, but you are certainly not going to be able to play them and express high levels of musicality without a huge amount of technical training.
I also think Aikidoka should think of themselves as Budoka (the practitioner of the martial way), not just someone who practices Aikido. The moment we define and specialize, we find ourselves locked in a smaller world. With a broader view we start to find opportunities of looking for a more balanced skill set, since as efficient as a certain method of training might be, there will always be flaws and it’s the task of a Budoka to reflect on it, understand the good and bad of each method and do what they can to balance it off.
The great zen master Takuan Soho says it better than I, with ramifications that go much deeper and broader than my short article can, but in chapter 7 of his “Mysterious Record of the Immovable Wisdom” he talks about the mind that does not defines and stylizes. Please read it carefully:
There is what is called the original mind and the deluded mind. The original mind is not stopping on a single position. It is the mind expanding and extending through one’s whole body and whole substance. The deluded mind is the mind frozen in a single position by constant concentration. The original mind, gathered [or concentrated] and stiffened in a single position, becomes what is termed the deluded mind. The original mind vanishes when its functioning in position after position is lost, and it is unified when it is not lost.
There is what is termed the mind of the existing mind and the mind of the no-mind. The mind of the existing mind is identical with the deluded mind, and as the title [of this concept] “existing mind” is read as “the existence of the mind,” it is a position packed with one-directional thought toward anything. When discrimination and conceptualisation produce thoughts in the mind, it refers to the mind of the existing mind. The mind of the no-mind is the same as the previously described original mind; it is a mind free of solidification and settling and discrimination and conceptualisation and the like. It extends through the entire body, and the mind that moves around and through the complete substance is called the no-mind. This is the mind that is not positioned anywhere. It is not, however, like wood or stone. Not stopping on any position is called the no-mind. In stopping there is something in the mind, but in not stopping on any position there is nothing in the mind. Nothing in the mind is called the mind of the no-mind, and it is [also] called no-mind and non-thought. If one is able to thoroughly practice this mind of no-mind, one will not stop on a single thing, and one will not lose a single thing. Constantly, like being filled with water, it exists in this body and responds in functioning when needed.
The path remains the same: find a method you like, find the best teacher in it that you can find and throw yourself into it.
Bibliography:
“The Mysterious Record of the Immovable Wisdom – Takuan Soho.
“Zen and the Creative Process: The “Kendo-Zen” Thought of the Rinzai Master Takuan” – Dennis Lishka.
Budo: the way of the warrior podcast (Episode 20): https://open.spotify.com/episode/4XnsYKKvXKxUmBmTuArWnT?si=mrHMzGpmR6yl_lhRIPNl-g
Zen Mind, Beginners Mind – Shunryu Suzuki