The true meaning of Aikido: a lifelong practice.

One thing that has become apparent at our dojo over recent years, is that we are only ever responsible for ourselves. By that I mean; no matter how we are grabbed, or how our uke is behaving, we are practising not getting involved with their actions. Instead, the focus is on remaining present, completely balanced and in the moment despite our partner’s emotions or, at times, their lack of ukemi.

At no point are we trying to enter if our partner is pulling back, or tenkan if they are too strong. And if those movements do arise, it’s not because of uke — it’s despite our uke.

It’s incredibly difficult not to be drawn into your partner’s ukemi. All of us get caught out by it, often without even realising. But through working together and discussing it openly, we’ve noticed that when we manage to return to ourselves, uke simply becomes drawn into our field and falls effortlessly.

I know how crazy that sounds, especially to those who haven’t experienced this way of practising. I can almost hear the mutterings of “bullshido” already. But unless you’ve experienced it for yourself, try not to judge — because, like our thoughts, our judgements aren’t ours either (which I will discuss below).

Many people are still training with the aim of overcoming their opponent, even some very high-ranking Aikidoka. They haven’t yet seen what Aikido truly is. O’Sensei was clear that Aikido is not a method to kill your enemy. The only enemy is the inflated ego or a sense of self.

Changes in our practice at the dojo.

One major factor in our learning has been the gradual cessation of dualistic language in the dojo. It didn’t happen overnight, but the change is now very noticeable. Language is so important, and at best, is a clumsy tool that doesn’t and never will be able to describe non duality accurately. Our sensei understands this and when he knows that words will just confuse our practice, he will take ukemi for us and allow us instantly feel his understanding.

Another factor in our development has been the abandonment of empty form. The paint-by-numbers Aikido that we see so much of in the UK, if we are truly honest, is a wrong turn down a road that leads to a dead end. No one in our dojo is trying to move in order to escape or overcome their partner. Movements still arise that could outwardly be labelled as forms, but they do so spontaneously, in the moment.

The third factor in our club’s development is recognising that uke and tori have the same feeling. We don’t change our internal state depending on whether we are uke or tori. The state remains the same regardless of whose “turn” it is. In truth, there aren’t any turn taking. We are always practising in the same way, in every moment.

Aikido, whilst appearing to be a physical practice, is actually an internal one — often described as moving Zen. It is a state of being, of living in pure presence. The form that arises is the by product of the internal practice. Just like in Yoga, the supple body is the by product of joining mind and body together. If you go to Yoga with the sole purpose of becoming more flexible, the complete point of the practice will be missed.

Daily Life

By practising in the way I’ve described, I’ve come to understand that daily life is exactly the same practice. The great thing about Aikido is that we can train in the dojo in a controlled environment, gradually learning about oneness, adding more and more controlled challenges that might draw us out of our natural state. Eventually our practice embodies every moment and spills out into every day life.

There isn’t a “dojo way of being” and then a separate life where we spend the week tense, reactive, and triggered by everything. There is only now to experience. Aikido doesn’t create a special state — it reveals a universal way of being that can be realised in every moment of life.

I’m beginning to live my life in this state. More and more, I’m seeing every moment as the same moment. An opportunity to practise but I am not perfect, and freely admit that a couple of times this week I noticed myself being completely drawn out of it.

The first was when someone cut me up on the motorway and nearly crashed into me. I became angry, but for the first time, I was able to recognise that the feeling of anger wasn’t me. By observing it, I managed to let it go and not allow it to affect my whole day, as it once would have done. I didn’t feel the need to tell the story to anyone once I got to my destination or replay it in my mind over and over again. I simply accepted it and let it go.

The second incident was when I received a last-minute call to dep on a show. It was a hard gig with very little time to prepare, and I went into the show feeling not 100% ready because of the last minute nature of it. My playing wasn’t the best I knew it could be. A couple of times I made some big mistakes and I noticed the musical director laughing with others in the band about a mistake I’d made. An instant insecurity and anger arose inside me but I became aware of how unsettled I’d become.

The thoughts were loud and entangling, but I remembered that these feelings weren’t mine. The truth is, the other musicians may not have been laughing at me at all — and even if they were, what does it matter? I was there doing the best I could in the situation I was faced with. There was simply no more I could offer.

I observed these obtrusive thoughts and after a few minutes, returned to a calm, open space. The chatter in my mind stopped and I was then able to enjoy the rest of the show. Had I stayed caught in those thoughts, I would only have made more and more mistakes. It was difficult — but I managed to shake it off.

“If you cannot find the truth right where you are, where else do you expect to find it?” - Dogen

I’m proud of both of these moments, not because they were perfect, but because I recognised the flare-ups of ego, saw them for what they truly were and was able to use my Aikido training to return to presence. It didn’t affect me for long where as a couple of years a go, these moments might have upset me for a day or two.

Conclusion

Aikido, for me now, is not another hobby, not something to do once a week on a Tuesday night. It’s much too profound to be treated as such. The practice is the recognition of the self. From here, we can gradually practise presence in every moment of our lives. If or when we do get dragged back in to duality — as we inevitably will throughout this lifelong practice — the practice is to be able to recognise it and return to awareness. As our practice deepens, fewer things will draw us out of oneness anti will take less and less time to recover.

I believe wholeheartedly that this is the true path that O’Sensei left for us to discover.