Takemusu Aiki

I have just finished reading "the Heart of Aikido" and it was an amazing and timely read for me. This book is written by Morihei Ueshiba on the philosophy of "Takemusu Aiki", and translated by John Stevens. Perhaps even you experienced and well-read aikidoka are hearing about this book for the first time here, because it only came out late last year in English.

When I first came to Japan, I had just started practicing aikido and was talking with one of my greatest friends and coworkers in Japan who is part of the "Peace Prayer Society" (Byakko Shinko Kai), which is group started by the late Goi Sensei after WWII, and is an international association for spreading peace around the world. In the later years of Ueshiba's life, he came in contact with Goi Sensei and considered him a great friend. While Goi Sensei was no martial artist, the two shared the same ideas in spirituality concerning peace, unity, and personal expression. After talking for a while about aikido and the Peace Prayer Society, my fellow teacher here at school gave me this book in its original Japanese form for me to translate and read, but I never got through more than a few pages of it.

Remarkably one day, I was looking for books about aikido on the internet, and that very day I came across the English version which apparently had just been released only a short time earlier. That very day by coincidence, my teacher later came up to me and told me that the book had been translated into English and that I should get it immediately. After the conversation I returned immediately to the computer to order the book from Amazon. Ever since returning from a trip back home to the States in August, I have been constantly reading about Buddhism and other religions in Japan and aikido, and have been training in aikido more than I ever have before, and I'm happy to have come to this point and read this book now on top of this experience instead of reading it at some earlier time. Especially, just before this, I finished the biography of Morihei Ueshiba written by his son, Kisshomaru, which was invaluable to better understanding the founder of this art I practice, and understanding more about his life before diving into more of his writings.

(If you are planning to read this book very soon and want to read it without any knowledge of its contents, maybe you should stop reading this blog entry here as the rest may be just a bit of a spoiler.)

Anyway, what is Takemusu Aiki mean anyway?

Well, in the introduction written by Morihei's grandson, Moriteru, he explains:

"Takemusu Aiki is a presentation of the essential teachings of the Founder of Aikido Morihei Ueshiba. Much of the material in this book is a summary of talks given by the Founder to members of the Byakko Shinko Kai, a group headed by Masahisa Goi, a good friend of the Founder. The trasncripts of those talks were edited by Hideo Takahashi and published in Japanese under the title 'Takemusu Aiki'."

Well, that's what the book is ... but what is Takemusu Aiki exactly? At the end of the book, Morihei Ueshiba writes:

"The mission of Aikido is to make the world a better place. The practice of Aikido will help purge the world of filth and corruption, but first of all you must set yourself aright. To be sincere and upright is the reason human beings exist in the world. Each one of us is a living shrine. In whatever endeavor, no matter where you find yourself, practice the pure techniques of the Way of Harmony and the Art of Peace. This is takemusu aiki."

What is budo? What are martial arts? Is there "martial arts" and "not-martial arts"? This is a question every "martial artist" must answer for themself, and many interesting debates concerning this issue can be found in martial arts media abound. In fact, by asking any martial artist this question, you will have most likely found the easiest way possible to send one into a lengthy rant. Many say nothing is important but the technique itself. Many say technique is the least important part of martial arts. There are young UFC competitors aggressively challenging each other in the cage calling themselves martial artists, and there are people with no interest in fighting at all practicing tai chi chuan in health clinics calling themselves martial artists. Is "martial" the key word in "martial arts", or is it "arts"?

When I began martial arts, I'd say it was primarily to find a new way to work out, maybe learn some self defense, and indulge the desire to somehow live the imaginative images I had of martial arts from Bruce Lee and Mortal Kombat. Unlike many others, I was not drawn to the martial arts because I wanted to defend myself against bullies or win competitions, so I've personally always leaned towards the philosophy of martial arts over other common rationale. I've been lucky enough to have practiced consistently since I began training, and have met many excellent practically-minded teachers, and so I've been able to support my philosophical desire while attempting legitimate technique. Before I came to Japan, I knew of aikido, and even wanted specifically to find an aikido dojo, but I was greatly skeptical of its more philosophical and "peaceful" inclinations it's famed for. I didn't want to come to the land of budo, just to talk about how we shouldn't hurt each other. Well, I found an aikido dojo, one that heavily focuses on technique and spends little time elaborating on philosophical ideals (though I probably wouldn't understand much of it in Japanese anyway). Since I've started, I've had a hard time reading about the peaceful ideologies of aikido, because they seemed empty and too generously exaggerated. I couldn't read more than a page about "ki" or "defeating an enemy without touching them" without closing the book with an up-turned nose of disdain. But time had passed, I have actually begun to internalize aiki movement, have had elaborated talks with my sensei, and thought extensively on my own on the nature of budo, that now as I read the biography of Ueshiba Sensei, and this book, "the Heart of Aikido", I am rediscovering with genuine belief the philosophies that generated my interest in the martial arts in the firstplace, and am finding something "real" in the martial arts. When reading this book, I can understand somehow that the peaceful philosophies are dependent on the techniques of martial arts. That martial arts is a symbiotic relationship between the seemingly contradicting dichotomies, and the result is something that can be beautiful and practical for the genuine practitioner.

That was a bit of a digression, but in order to process my report on the book, perhaps you would benefit from my personal bias.

Basically, for anyone interested in the question of transcendence over brute technique in the martial arts, or anyone interested in peace or aikido philosophy, I would highly recommend this short but incredibly dense and enlightening read. Maybe here I can share a few of my quotes.

"... , if something is putrid on earth, insects will eventually consume it and make the area pure again. All the creatures of the world - insects, fish, birds, animals - have means of dealing with impurities. In this manner, each and every human being is entrusted with the divine mission to purge the environment of filth and impurities. This is the aim of Aikido. That is what we all pray for. However, empty prayers are of no avail. Make that prayer a reality."

This gives me a great feeling of reality and responsibility in my life and with martial arts. Should I or should I commit this act that may hurt this person? Am I just waving my hands around in the air and calling it martial arts? Is there any "purpose" to these martial arts? I'm trying to make prayers, and not make them empty.

" 'Employ the divine to bring forth infinitely varied techniques.' This marvelous skill is derived from pure emptiness, an emptiness that nevertheless evolves into the essence and the form of a technique, a technique that can be seen and felt."

Real technique, philosophical emptiness, honest expression.

Below however, is the only part of the book where I felt uneasy, and would disagree with O'Sensei:

"Our country never developed Western-style competitive sports, but these days there are those among us who are glad that martial arts are becoming sports. That, however, is a gross misunderstanding of the true nature of budo. Sports are games and a form of play. They are games played in physical entities, not matters of the spirit. In other words, they involve mere comptetition. Budo, however, is a means to maintain and promote harmony; it is combat in the spiritual realm, ruled by Love. Budo helps make the world prosper."

I agree that there are differences between sports and true budo, but I don't see how sports and competition are inherently not practicing budo. In fact, I think competition can be a great tool to understanding budo. I believe budo is separate from other physical activities because of the intent put into it, but that doesn't mean sports can't have it. It's this kind of discussion that leaves me in the end confessing "there really isn't anything different martial arts and other physical activities, I just like it better." But that's just my deal.

"Aikido has functioned throughout history, right from the Age of the Gods to the present. Aiki is the principle behind all activity, spiritual and material. It is what we call nobility of creation. All of these truths reside in our very bodies; past, present, and future are within each and every person. This knowledge generates divine techniques."

Belief in the "supernatural" was a big part of O'Sensei's life and discussions, and I think we should seek to understand what he meant and felt if we are to benefit from his writings.

"Loyalty and devotion should be established quickly. Our mission encompasses every living being - animals, birds, fish, and insects. Our goal is to put all people at ease, and to reassure them of the goodness of life. We want to nourish all beings; we want to work together with everyone in accordance with universal principles."

Ah finally! A rationale for terms like "loyalty" and "devotion" and "service" that I have been looking for for so long in stacks of budo literature. This is may be my number one ultimate search in studying budo, trying to rationalize service and chivalry, and I think this hits on it a little bit. I also like the parts about animals, birds, fish, and insects. Imagining O'Sensei talking about this makes me laugh.

"Up to now, old-time martial arts required years and years of practice before one could begin to understand the true purpose of budo. In contrast, the Aikido I have developed is a means to make this realization come quickly. That is the difference between old-style martial arts and Aikido. Those who are sensitive to the flow of energy, and in tune with their surroundings, are the ones that must take the lead by acting nobly and with determination. That is Aikido - to set a goal and to improve day by day."

YES! Here is rationality in the martial arts. I don't believe in any inherent need to keep things "secret" or limited to those who "haven't devoted their entire lives blindly to this art." Give students infinity, and they'll grasp what they can. O'Sensei remarks several times his work at the end of explanations something to the effect of, "Anyone can ask me anytime about this, I'll tell anyone anywhere. This is no secret." Also, "to set a goal and to improve day by day." We could all benefit from this small piece of wisdom I think.

"The universe appeared as a living shrine. Human beings are living shrines. If gods are found in shrines human beings build of wood, surely they are found in human beings themselves. Thus we are all children of the divine."

And there's some rationality in spirituality! I especially liked this quote. And the next one:

"Religious leaders always talk about calming the soul and returning to God, but too much emphasis on the spiritual side of things is no good. Your body is the temple of the spirit, it is the medium in which your true nature is housed. Take good care of it."

And probably the coolest quote from the book:

"Enter into your opponent's mind and guide him along the path heaven and earth have indicated to you. Regardless of what arises, even if you are staring death in the face, strike like thunder, and fly more quickly than lightning."

That's some good powerful imagery I can mull around in my head for a few days.

If you're looking to find the direct words of a legendary figure like Morihei Ueshiba, I believe you'll be led to two works: this book, and "the Art of Peace." I'd say "the Art of Peace" is as close to the core as you'll get to O'Sensei's genius, but for more explanations and linear discussions, this book will greatly help any martial arts philosopher along the Path.

Here I will end with one of O'Sensei's poems which is presented at the very end of "Takemusu Aiki":

"True Harmony -

A path so difficult

To comprehend

Yet as simple as

The natural flow of heaven."

"Your Ukemi Was Really Weird Tonight, Zac."

This is what sensei said to me from across the dojo while I was reviewing a jo form with Hosogoshi after class. Hosogoshi and I looked at each other and I asked him what sensei said, but he shrugged his shoulders and was just as confused as I was. I asked sensei what he said, so he repeated it, and Hosogoshi and I were still just as confused. So I said, "Uh ... OK." and continued the jo form for a few more minutes while sensei folded his hakama. I had absolutley no idea what he meant, and he's never said anything quite like this before, so I went to try and make some sense of this.

"My ukemi was weird tonight?"

"So weird."

"Uh ... What do you mean?"

And so he began a lengthy explanation before Hosogoshi and I which I barely understood.

"So was it the way I was rolling? Were they too far or too short?"

"No, that's not it."

"Well, was I too fast or too slow?"

"Um, not really."

The notion of ukemi is specific to aikido, absolutley necessary for good technique, and arguably the secret to becoming proficient in the art. In aikido, techniques are practiced generally between two people, the tori (thrower) and uke (person being thrown). Ukemi is what the uke does when a technique is practiced on them. Sensei was trying to explain the essence of ukemi and how I wasn't doing it, while he became increasingly frustrated and impatient. Hosogoshi was there trying to help by throwing out some English phrases and translating sensei's Japanese into my Japanese. Sensei would ramble off for a minute, look at Hosogoshi and ask him if he understood and he would answer, "Mmm, kind of." and then sensei would look at me and I would say, "I don't understand." Which was true at first. But after about three attempts at explaining one particular point, I would slowly get what he was saying.

What he was trying to explain was that you have to move naturally and maintain your structural integrity when doing ukemi.

"So I need to move more naturally?"

"No, that's not it."

He then told me when I was doing ukemi, I would anticipate the movement and move before my partner, making the technique nothing, and thus not aikido.

"So I need to slow down?"

"No."

He then told me when I moved through ukemi, I would leave my body behind making me weak and screwing up the technique.

"Oh! It's like when you do ukemi for nikkyo (a particular technique) and you have to go to the floor a little bit to maintain your balance!"

"Hah???"

At this moment I did my best not to punch him in the face and tell him he's stupid.

He said something else I couldn't understand and asked me if I understood, but I just said "kind of." and he looked dissatisfied. Hosogoshi tried to help me out and said that I usually catch on to these kinds of things quickly somehow after sensei mentions them, but sensei still looked very much dissatisfied.

Sensei began to explain that he can tell whether someone is good or not at aikido by how they do ukemi.

"Do you understand?"

"Yeah. You can tell if someone is good or bad by how they do ukemi."

"Hah???"

Are you serious?!

He told me to grab his hand and do ukemi. I moved, and he looked at Hosogoshi and said, "See, he sucks."

He grabbed my hand and told me to move, which I did unsuccessfully trying to move him and he said, "See? This is horrible."

I know very well when I practice with people lower than me that they suck because their ukemi sucks, and I can't do aikido properly when they mess it up. I know I do this too sometimes with my seniors, but how am I supposed to make my ukemi better?

"Sensei, how do I get better at ukemi?"

"You need more time. You cannot learn real aikido from a book, and you can't learn it from watching it. You definitely can't learn aikido through words. You have to do it through feeling somehow, and you have to do it with someone who knows how. Here, you need to learn proper technique by proper ukemi. You need to learn this through my body's reaction to yours. You have to maintain a connection with your partner. You learn how to react to me properly, and then you'll be good at aikido. After that, you should go somewhere else and learn from another teacher."

He paused for a second and looked at Hosogoshi and asked him if he understood. Then sensei looked at me and continued:

"You need more time. By August? I don't know." And then metaphorically threw his hands in the air saying it's impossible.

And that was it.

He walked away and Hosogoshi and I were the only ones left changing out of our gis.

"Ukemi is really hard isn't it?"

"Yeah, I'm still really bad at it." And Hosogoshi is as good as I can imagine.

He tried to explain that he knows how to move by cues given by sensei's movement. He, and no one really, can remember perfectly every movement in aikido, or how to ukemi by working it out logically. He moves how he feels sensei thinks he should, and he does good technique. By doing this, he is stealing sensei's technique.

Well, it was a night full of questions and answers. But I still have one burning question concerning the distance between my current level, and the model presented in these answers:

HOW DO I GET THERE NOW?!

This has very much consumed me since it happened, and all I want is to "do it". But let's see if this can manifest naturally: appropriately and without any unnecessaries ... ne?

A Direction

(continued from my last two posts ...)

A beautiful mind is one that is appropriate.

An ugly mind is one that is unnecessary.

With quality breathing, we become calm uniting the seemingly disparate phenomenon of the universe. This allows us to see everything from our center and prevents us from being pulled off balance, rendering us unable to be aware of phenomenon's holistic nature and particular intentions, and locking us into tunnel-vision which may allow us to be tricked or consumed by outside phenomenon.

Specific isolated forms are momentary tricks preventing us from existing "naturally."

Natural is appropriate and thus beautiful.

A Beautiful Mind

(Continuation from the previous blog entry, "In Medias Res")

Having a beautiful mind is a difficult thing to define or describe, because by itself it is just an organ stuck in our heads. I tried listing words that describe a "beautiful" or "ugly" mind, but they are all subject to circumstance and can fall on either side of judgement just as easily. After all the reading I've done of Buddhism, martial arts, and concepts of "no-mind", I'm finally realizing that it's not the mind itself that has inherent qualities, but that it is its use that we can define or judge. A hammer can be no more than a stick in isolation, but once you put it to use, it's the reason why we can make a beautiful palace. Decorating a hammer makes it no more useful than putting on make-up to take a written Japanese proficiency test. (Though it could certainly be argued that it could help by empowering the user with feelings of enthusiasm and belief to affect the action of building a house or taking a test for the better, depending on what is "better". Man, this is really tricky business defining a beautiful mind.)

So how can we make the act of using our brain beautiful? Now as I try to describe the beautiful action of a brain in my head (pun intended), I fall into the same subjective trap that I did before when trying to define a brain itself in isolation. How can something so influential and important be so indefinable? If we take a look at other similar indefinable terms such as ki or tao, we will find them cluttered with loads of limited and unsuccessful definitions. Perhpas it is like ki in aikido movements in that, if you only practice trying to produce ki, you will generate very little skill in aikido compared to the person who focuses on technique and has ki manifest naturally. So if we use this analogy, it does us little good to focus on the power of our brains as opposed to focusing on its actual specific use.

But this conclusion doesn't appease me.

I think it's because I've separated physical definable phenomenon from phenomenon that is indefinable by our five senses. And so I think another division is necessary. I don't think "mind" and terms analogous to "the Tao" are the same thing (any more than a pen cap is the Tao.) The Tao is the manifestation of life that exists due to interacting forces which constantly change in the arena of the infinite void of emptiness. The Tao reaches to the top and bottom of infinite time and space, and this is not the mind I seek to define. We use the mind to experience the Tao, but it is not the Tao (anymore than a piece of lint is the Tao.) The mind is a tool with a use and inherent limitations, but its range of use and limitations are far wider than anything else in the phenomenonal world, and in fact, it is responsible and controls most all phenomenon in our bodies and experience. So with this limited yet undefinable and all-powerful organ of the mind, we really do have a bridge to the Tao, and complete control of our lives don't we?

Complete control of our lives.

Is that possible?

Do you believe your answer?

Do you understand and take responsibility for the gravity of your answer?

I'm going to settle with this conclusion for now, but I don't like it:

A beautiful mind is one that acts naturally.

In Medias Res

I am in the middle of things, and it's not my favorite place to be. It's been a while since I've started, and the end is still far away. Without the excitement of beginning, or the accomplishment of finishing, I am subject to any given mood caused by any seemingly unnecessary and unpleasant happenings. Did I really choose this path? Is it really worth so much trouble? So much time and effort? The abstract maxims and analogies have become sterile and empty. I no longer believe these motivational tricks like I used to, and I need something real if I'm going to maintain this project. But what? From where? What would something real look like? Smell like? Taste like?

I think it's beauty. As I strive to make quality as much a part of my life as possible, I am drawn to and maintained by beauty. Beautiful pictures, beautiful cleanliness, beautiful music, beautiful body, beautiful friends, beautiful things. But these are merely the subjective outward manifestations of something deeper, more substantial, and ubiquitous; something real. From my place in the middle of this something, the end is very vague. But the next step is very clear, and it's toward the mind:

What is a beautiful mind?

How can I cultivate a beautiful mind? This thing that is always in my head. This thing that is always watching, judging. This thing that somehow decides how my fickle mood will color my existence. I am tired of this uncontrollable tendency that renders me powerless before the finite and limited. Perhaps my body would survive more revolutions in this arbitrary cycle, but my genius would die. I would rather sacrifice my body for the sake of my genius, genuine happiness, and honest expression if it was required of me. I seek to have company with the real, where I can sit straight and look upon it with kind eyes, unaffected by fatigue. I believe the bridge to this state is greatly concerned with the cultivation of a beautiful mind.

On Genius

I believe that we all have an inherent genius. But what is genius? My intepretation is that genius is actually the Great Potential within that manifests without. It is only with great difficulty, confusion, and limitation that we can judge or measure one's genius by its physical manifestations. We can measure with scientific means and apparatus, but that will reveal one small detail and neglect infinitely more factors of the particular accordance addressed. We can give our own opinions on a matter, but there is no constant in this method, and so it is equally worthless as it is useful. So, I think we must do the best we can in each situation in life, conduct ourselves with genuine humility, and eneavor to cultivate our own personal studies by following our interests. By putting these concepts to physical action, our genius may emerge in the physical world perceived by the five senses, and thusly all realms of life.

Perhaps the result of genius is Quality.

...

This particular thought is something I wrote down this morning after finishing "the Life Giving Sword" written by Yagyu Menenori in the early 17th century. Like Musashi's "Book of Five Rings", this was another classic I had read a few years ago but decided to reread. It's a perfect work to read along with "The Book of Five Rings" for their similarities and great differences, and because they were both written about the same time. While Musashi intentionally omits referencing Buddhism in his work, Munenori openly uses it along with his discussions on swordsmanship. Musashi was a masterless swordsman who spent his life wandering and dueling alone, while Munenori served the family of the Shogun within the government for his entire life. Studying the history of these two men greatly enhances one's ability to derive meaning from their works. To me, it seems Musashi writes of his experience and specific details of technique to lead up to his philosophy, while Munenori discusses the philosophy behind his technique first.

If I had to rank my favorite martial arts books, "the Life Giving Sword" would most definitely be in my top ten, if not my top five.

I think both Munenori and Musashi had profound understandings of genius, and sought its manifestation through the quality of their lives.

An Interesting Day for Nabe

Yesterday I got to try eating three new strange Japanese animals in different kinds of nabe (Japanese stew). There was a festival in Kamiichi, one of the towns that's really at the base of the mountains, and they were serving bear (kuma) and wild boar (inoshishi)! I expected the bear to be really tough and not so good and the boar to be really delicious, but it was the complete opposite. I thought the bear was amazing, and was really soft (it's probably best in this kind of stew instead of a bear steak) and if anything, reminded me of venison. Then the wild boar was OK, but just tasted like tough pork.

Then for dinner, I went out with my of my sensei from school and we had fugu, blowfish. First we had a little sashimi (slices of raw fugu) which was OK, not so flavorful and a little chewy. But then we had it in some nabe and it was amazing.

As for trying exotic Japanese foods, this was a phenomenal day. I knew I built up good karma after trying to so much urchin, fish eggs, and crab guts. *gag*