16.10.06

 
The following article was published in, 'Aikido East', USAF (United States Aikido Federation) Eastern Region Online Newsletter, Volume 3, 2004.

The Path Of Aikido

I remember the day. It was thirty minutes before the beginning of Black Belt testing in Aikido, at the New York Aikikai. There was I, driving around the streets, near the Dojo in Manhattan, in search of a parking space, with no luck; nothing in sight. I gave up the hunt with no time to spare, pulled into a pay for parking lot, and hurried to the Dojo.

I vaulted the stairs, three at a time, and my heartbeat began to pace upward. The place was loaded with spectators, families and friends, and of course, many aikidoka of varied ranks were already on the mat. Those of us testing for Shodan, first degree black belt, ultimately had to defend ourselves against free style, multiple attacks by four or five black belts, in a format called, randori. All in all, a formidable task, and randori was only a partial requirement, not to mention numerous techniques, including working with weapons.

"Calm down. Hold center," an inner voice admonished as I politely worked my way through the crowd toward the dressing room.

On the previous evening I had been watching Sensei Yoshimitsu Yamada's tapes on advanced Aikido techniques, perhaps in hope of absorbing some intangible substance that would assist me. The two Shihan, Sensei Yamada, and Sensei Seiichi Sugano, at the New York Aikikai have been an inspiration to us over the years. As I studied the video, my secret wish was for a form of magic, which would allow the electromagnetic screen images to permeate my own being with the prowess of the masters.

Just before I entered the dressing room, I saw Sensei Yamada sitting on a couch near the doorway.
"Sensei," I said, "I was watching one of your tapes last night."
"Last minute..." he said.

He was, of course, correct, for in my mind, every second of training, mental and physical mattered. On that previous evening, I had also created an internal meditation matrix, out of which flowed an Aikido fugue. During contemplation, I worked through all the testing patterns of combat. There was, of course, no assurance that the sequence of live action in the Dojo would follow my meditation exercises. The requirements for black belt, first level, at the New York Aikikai, are well known for demanding comprehensive rigor. Our Senseis call it as they call it. One must be ready.

I changed from street clothes to martial arts Gi quickly, and stepped up to the entrance which led onto the mat. I bowed toward the Dojo's alter which beautifully enclosed a large photo image of Aikido's founder, O'Sensei Morihei Ueshiba, with a racked display of weapons, bokken and jo, sword and staff, blended with a vase of flowers, and a scroll with, Aikido, printed vertically in Kanji characters. From any position on the mat, the alter is an esthetic pleasure to behold.

On this testing day, the mat was packed with men and women of varying ages, awaiting their moment of truth. I spotted two friends, Peter Kalamaras, and Marc Olden, across the mat, and against the wall. I crossed over to join them. Half the mat space from rear to midpoint was covered by seated aikidoka who were waiting to be tested. The exams would run from fifth kyu ranks all the way through first degree black belt, and beyond. The other half of the mat was empty. This provided space for testing three sets of two people at a time.

The low murmur of conversation ceased as Sensei Yamada, and Sensei Sugano took their places on the mat, near the entranceway. They sat in seiza, a kneeling meditation posture, wherein the body forms a human pyramid, with a triangle as its base. They would administer the test from their positions. Sensei examined some papers before he called names of students to come forward. Testing was in progress. Time passed relatively slowly as I observed others in action. They moved through the energy projections, locks, pins, throws, and breath control of Aikido techniques, moving from the mat-ground work of suwari waza, and upward. It could be said that the aikidoka, in my mind's eye, had become bridges between Heaven and Earth. A unique metaphor for an Aikido technique called, tenchi nage.

My own physical movement was relatively restricted for more than an hour. I massaged my feet and legs every now and then to maintain blood flow. Peter, Marc, and I exchanged occasional low key comments and grunts of approval, as we admired the techniques on display. A crucial part of testing includes maintaining one's center, and cultivating patience while awaiting the call to action. I spent part of my internal wait-state mapping out a fighting strategy to be used during randori. This intentional assault against me, during testing, was partly designed to examine my combat capabilities.

Finally, our names came up, as if from an exit through a dream doorway, casting me back into the immediate moment.
"Ronn, Marc." Sensei Yamada's voice. A call to action!
Marc and I got up quickly and took our positions. Two other testing teams were called up with us. Sensei shuffled more papers, studying a segment of our records.
"You guys are almost as old as I am," he said, referring to me and Marc.
"Hai, Sensei," we answered simultaneously.
Nervous laughter rippled briefly through the Dojo. A secret smile played across Sensei Sugano's countenance.

And then, we began.

Sensei Yamada called the first technique; Marc attacked, and I defended. Our roles would be reversed somewhere within the warrior stream, of attack and counterattack. Nage's moves, the person defending, may be experienced as potentially crippling counter techniques. For me, the ideal is found in a perfect blend. When possible, this approach dampens the possibility of potential injury.

Time vanished as Marc and I engaged in Aikido. During the end of our encounter, we used weapons against each other. Bokken and jo. I was perspiring profusely when we bowed out. My Gi hung damp and heavy from sweat against my skin. The next phase would be randori, but this would not occur until the first phase was completed for all concerned. I had some time for a rest period before being sent up against several black belts. I was certain that whoever they were, they would attack me simultaneously with great vigor.

I sat near the wall, leaning lightly against it, remaining aware of the vibrancy of immediate open ended Presence, for as long as the state lasted. The action of others flowed onward until, at last, randori!

I heard the call, and moved with some swiftness to my indicated position on the mat. I sat in seiza. This time my heels were up, and I held position on my toes. Five black belts aligned themselves facing me. They formed a horizontal line, each sitting in seiza as well. They were about six or seven feet away. We bowed together and on Sensei's signal, the action began. Everyone moved concurrently. I focused my immediate attention on the attacker on my left. I headed straight toward him and dropped down to the mat, just before collision with him. He rolled across my back. I stood quickly, turning to my right to face the onslaught.

"Move, Ronn. Move!"

I heard Sensei's command as if from a distance. For a second, the action seemed to be static, frozen. All of us awaiting an advance from the other , but only for a moment. I attacked the nearest black belt. The static-freeze disappeared. A blur of action filled with kokyu, breath throws, ukemi, falling, and bruises followed. Suddenly, another signal from Sensei stopped the activity. We bowed out and took positions on the mat as spectators, once more. My trial by combat, for a time was over.

I relaxed within a mindframe mixed with thoughts of the potential mystical origins of the black belt. In essence, its significance at one level indicated an initiatory level of learning, in martial arts training. I remembered my curiosity about the color of the belt, and I had asked Sensei Sugano about it. His explanation included the idea of using a black belt for indicating skill levels in Judo, through the authority of the Kodokan, in Japan. I remembered the Sufi concepts concerning 'Black Light', as being symbolic of warriorship and some forms of mystical perception, with respect to, Hidden Treasure, stellar space, Light of the Divine Self, and onward. These ideas catalyzed other thoughts about progress on the Path, and Aikido as a way of traveling. The Dojo is a place where a practitioner can meet others of similar mind-bodies, who are conscious beings through which the universe experiences Itself. Light then becomes the internal understanding of external energy. In a special way, Aikido training may be experienced as a refinement and purification pathway of the soul. The stream of my mindfield entered the earlier evening before the black belt test, as I observed Sensei Yamada's videos on advanced Aikido methods, marveling at the masterful fluidity of his movement.

A flash of sound interrupted my reverie as someone turned over in mid air, landing in a breakfall thunder slap performance that snapped me back to real-time. All testing was finished. Randori was over for all combatants.

On reflection, these events occurred some years ago, and for this telling, they have been telescoped in time. Yet, my lifestream along the Path, punctuated by the joy and pain we encounter on the battlefield of life, has been illuminated through my study and praxis of Aikido.
posted by Ronn 03:56