How Shodan Marks the Beginning of True Learning in Aikido
4th Dan Aikido reflection by Peter Lin
My fascination with martial arts bloomed in childhood, fueled by the dazzling displays of power and agility in action movies. Aikido, however, offered a different path – one that would unveil a deeper understanding of myself and the art itself. This realisation wouldn't dawn on me until much later, after I had crossed a significant threshold: the shodan, or first- degree black belt.
My initial foray into Aikido, during my polytechnic years, was fueled by a desire for self- defense and the allure of mastering those captivating moves I had seen. The internet was a nascent beast then, so information came in the form of grainy videos and textual descriptions. Despite the lack of high quality videos then, Aikido's philosophy of redirecting force resonated with me, contrasting starkly with my physical build.
Training began with a sense of awe. Witnessing the seniors effortlessly execute throws and moves akin to a choreographed dance and landing lightly like a feather onto the ground upon being thrown during a visit to the Ueshiba Aikido Singapore headquarter’s dojo at Tanglin Community Club was an eye-opener. However, Sensei George's enigmatic statement about true learning commencing only at shodan left me confused. Several exceptional seniors weren't black belts yet. Was it a limitation of my kyu (non black belt) status?
This initial confusion morphed into a quest for belts. The shodan became a coveted prize, a finish line to cross before diploma graduation. I confess, I became a "belt chaser," driven by the desire to wear the black belt around my waist. Despite internal doubts about my technique, fueled by this misplaced motivation, I somehow managed to pass each grading.
Graduation from polytechnic marked a turning point. National Service took precedence, but the yearning to return to the dojo remained. Reuniting with a former training partner from polytechnic, we arranged to return to enrol with Ueshiba Aikido Association (UAA), united in our renewed pursuit of shodan.
The shodan grading itself was a humbling experience and donning the traditional hakama for the first time served as a powerful reminder – the black belt was not just a symbol of mastery, but a constant call for refinement. Sensei's words about true learning starting at shodan finally clicked. My focus shifted from acquiring belts to becoming someone worthy of wearing the hakama.
My Aikido journey continued with Nidan (second-degree), Sandan (third-degree), and ultimately, Yondan (fourth-degree) under Sensei George. Interestingly, my training buddy and I initially resisted the invitation for Yondan grading multiple times. When we eventually accepted and took the test, it was not registered with Aikido Headquarters in Hombu in Tokyo Japan due to unforeseen administrative issues
Years later, with a newly established Aikido Singapore club at Tanglin Community Club, a familiar haven for nearly two decades. Sensei Simon, a senior and student of Sensei George, offered my buddy and I another chance to be graded for our Yondan. While initially hesitant, Sensei Simon’s dedication to improve the members’ AIkido techniques convinced me. Aikido Singapore's transparent grading system also appealed to me, offering closure for the unforeseen administrative issue for my previous Yondan Grading at UAA and a chance to solidify my understanding of Aikido's core principles and basic foundation.
Looking back, the idea of still practising Aikido in 2024 would have seemed far-fetched in 2001. Since receiving my shodan in 2008, my focus has shifted from external validation to internal growth. Every training session has become an opportunity to refine my basics and embody the art's elegance.
Aikido's true learning, as Sensei George conveyed, begins at shodan. It is not just about the black belt; it's about the unveiling of a deeper understanding – the realisation that the journey has just begun. The shodan becomes a gateway to continuous improvement, a commitment to lifelong learning on the ever-evolving path of Aikido.
If our paths do cross on the Aikido mats, let us learn from each other. Onegai shimasu...
Crossroads
4th Dan Aikido reflection by Ian Teo
It is with honour that I present my personal writing in accompaniment to my upcoming grading on Sunday 14 July 2024 for the 4th degree black belt (四段, Yon Dan) under the tutelage of Sensei Simon Lee of Aikido Singapore. The topic of this article is “My reflection on Aikido and why I am going for my grading?”
Each of us had a unique beginning with Aikido and so did it within us. This sentence in itself represents balance in the core of all. As I write this, I am on a journey of life that has experienced turmoil and bliss in a series of ups and downs where discovering the Aikido principle of Awase (Blending), I learnt how to navigate the constant flux of changes. An example was during my youth, when dealing with family crises; I had to deal with the tensions that continued to fester. Had I not known how to blend through the stressors that was ravaging, I would have been emotionally destroyed.
Another challenge as a child was dealing with being a victim of bullying. It made me weary of the social space, and the complexities of peoples’ intentions and motives. The dust of that experience had since settled. However, it is ever present in adulthood where it manifests in different forms, like the politics at work and gossips among friends or family. I have learnt a way to slice through the deceit to uncover the truth at its Hara (Centre). Each time I applied this Aikido principle, I could recognise sincerity amidst the darkness. I have grown fond of always returning to the centre, a constant reminder of where strength is, to channel adversities meaningfully and to remain balanced in my mind, body and soul.
This strength represents True Ki (Power). I believe everyone is born with it — a gift of the universe which permeates us till our last days in mortality. Aikido guides us to acknowledge and control it. When I started learning Aikido, I had the impression that it could be harnessed within a set amount of time. However, I now realise that this goal will take a lifetime to achieve. Nonetheless, I am determined to fully understand it before I reach my last breath.
The above stories bring me to the crossroads on why should I go for grading? Like most of my peers, I used to belt-chase: always looking towards the next belt-grade for the motivation to progress. When I reached Yudansha, I started to reject the notion of grading as it added to my burden of responsibility. Once again, this features balance. In this instance however, I chose to go for grading. The truth is that I had initially already graded for Yon Dan but due to unforeseen administrative misgivings of my previous Aikido association, I had to undergo grading again, which I call "re-grading". I wanted to reject this but was encouraged by the Aikido principles such as Fudoshin (Non-resistance) to squarely face my rejection, anger and fear of being graded again.
I now accept the challenge of re-grading with renewed Ki and look forward to grade and grow with my fellow practitioners in spirit.
Aikido Reflection
3rd Dan Aikido reflection by Ng Hui Jun
I started learning Aikido at an early age. My parents saw people practising in our dojo and thought that it would be good to enroll my brother and I. Since then, I have experienced Aikido at different stages in my life journey, and developed many different feelings towards it. I have also discovered and enjoyed the many facets that the martial art has to offer.
Along the way, Aikido has taught me many valuable lessons. The biggest are: commitment, confidence, and that there is no shame in running away from dangerous situations.
How Aikido taught me commitment
I started Aikido in primary school and trained regularly. As a child, committing to lessons every Friday evening was very difficult; I often had to turn down invitations to evening events or to hanging out with friends after school on Fridays. There were times when it felt tedious and tiring to go for training, especially after a long day at school. Over the years, I had many different feelings towards Aikido. Sometimes they were positive, sometimes negative. In retrospect I am very glad that I stuck through the trainings. Thanks to Aikido, I have learned many other lessons and made precious friendships. Aikido training is a commitment. It can be tough at times but it’s all worth it!
How Aikido taught me confidence
"A good stance and posture reflect a proper state of mind"
Morihei Ueshiba
From the very first lesson I was taught to always keep a proper stance, so that we will always be prepared and ready. With a good posture and stance, I also felt more confident. Outside of the dojo, Aikido has also given me confidence, especially in hostile situations. Admittedly, I do not know if I would have the upper hand if a confrontation takes a physical turn, However, I am certain that I would at least be able to defend myself enough that I would not sustain any serious injuries.
How Aikido taught me that there is no shame in running away from dangerous situations
I remember that when I just started learning Aikido, the instructors would emphasize to us to always be calm and find the opportunity to run away from any dangerous situation. They would also teach us that if we were trapped and could apply an Aikido technique, the priority is to create an opening to escape. From these early lessons I have learnt that it is okay to peacefully move away from confrontations, be they in hostile and dangerous situations or in daily settings.
Walking away from someone looking for a fight does not mean I am scared or surrendering to my opponent.
July 2024
In Memoriam: Rolf M Jabcobsohn
by Sensei Ng Say Yong (5th Dan)
The last time I spoke to Rolf, in the high-dependency ward of Tan Tock Seng Hospital soon after his operation for stomach cancer, he mentioned to me—not for the first time—what aikido meant to him. He said aikido kept him alive, by giving him a sufficiently rigorous yet gentle routine to keep him on his feet and his body active. He was also most thankful to all of us in the dojo who trained with him all these years, putting up with his understandably less supple body and occasional bad jokes.
Actually, Rolf didn’t look all that different from the first time I saw him when I started training at Tanglin Community Club. He was already not a young man thirty years ago. He didn’t move with measured fluidity, and he was already cracking the occasional bad jokes.
There was a time when I trained quite regularly with him. Those were lessons in generosity, dedication, and humanity. In partnering Rolf, I was taught not to rush or force a technique but to gently engage the subtle energy flow between nage and uke. That started me thinking about the symbiotic relationship between training partners—that connecting with and taking mutual care of each other are crucial components of aikido practice.
Rolf was the most consistent aikido practitioner in our dojo. He almost never missed a class. He’d turn up on Sundays, even when he didn’t feel well enough to train, to help set up the mats. For the longest time we’d reserve one row of mats for him to mop. So when he didn’t show up for class for more than a month, I knew something was wrong. Then we found out what happened.
The first Sunday after Rolf passed away, we trained as usual 9:30 in the morning at Tanglin Community Club. It was warm and sunny; the lush greenery outside swayed gently to the melodic songs of twittering birds. A ray of light streamed into the dojo to settle as a rectangular patch on the yellow mats. I was saddened when I looked at the mats thinking that we no longer need to reserve a row for Rolf to mop. At the end of the class, we observed a moment’s silence in his memory.
Rolf was our oldest practitioner, and I was always proud to tell people about it—that our oldest practitioner was way over eighty years old. Aikido had been an indelible part of his life, and he was still standing and moving on the dojo mats almost to the end of his eighty-eight years. I’m sure all of us who knew him as a fellow practitioner and friend will miss him dearly now that he’s no longer with us. But his aikido spirit remains.
Fare thee well, Rolf.
(3 Jun 2024)
Rolf helping to unpack the new mats at Tanglin CC Dojo on 23 Mar 2023
Transmission Through Touch
by Sensei Ng Say Yong (5th Dan)
What is much more important than anything is that I touch you. Through me, through my touch, comes the touch of the founder of Aikido … It is transferred from person to person. These vibrations pass among us.
— Terry Dobson, It’s a lot like dancing … an aikido journey
Many years ago, Seishiro Endo Shihan came to our dojo to conduct a seminar. Back then, we had regular visits from instructors overseas, especially Japan. (George) Sensei and I went to greet him at Changi Airport. When he walked out of Terminal One Arrival Hall, we noticed that the left side of his nose was visibly swollen, but of course we didn’t dare say anything about it. As we shook his similarly swollen hand, he winced in pain and asked us with an apologetic laugh not to press too hard. He told us that due to his carelessness he had incurred the injuries in class when an uke accidentally bumped him. Then he said, almost to himself, that he had to train harder to prevent that kind of thing from happening again. I was immediately struck by his humility and positive spirit.
During the seminar, the injuries suddenly evaporated into thin air. He moved with grace and fluidity, and not for one moment did he seem affected by his swollen nose nor inflamed hand. I sat on the mat mesmerized by his every move like a dewy-eyed fan and was fortunate to take ukemifor him on quite a few occasions. Unfortunately, as a shodan, I wasn’t able to fully appreciate what he was trying to convey. But what was unmistakable was the mysterious energy emanating from his totally soft and pliant body. It was like touching cotton wool, and yet that cotton wool would suck you in, and without undue force, subdue your aggression. At the end of the encounter, you feel connected, convinced, and converted by that gentle persuasive power.
However, it was taichi that brought me closer to an understanding of Endo Shihan’s mystique. In the Wu-style taichi that I practice, the focus is totally on the internal. Like aikido, we’re told repeatedly to relax our bodies. Actually, the Chinese word used is 松, which means ‘loose’ rather than ‘relax’. It’s a total looseness of joints and muscles that we’re striving to attain. That looseness makes our whole body soft and formless like water, and that formlessness enables us to absorb and alchemize the energy coming from outside.
I believe Endo Shihan is teaching the same things in aikido. And he is evolving a sensibility from a lineage that goes back to Seigo Yamaguchi Shihan, then passes on to his many students. Mineo Tominaga is one of his students. He’s from Ozaka and runs a chain of dojos there. He kindly graced our dojo by conducting a seminar over two weekday evenings in early September.
I attended the first of those sessions. It rained heavily the whole afternoon but settled into a light drizzle by evening. The car park inside Tanglin Community Club was already full when I arrived at 7pm, so I had to risk a traffic fine by parkingalong the side road at the bay reserved for private buses. The dojo thronged with practitioners young and old. An air of subdued excitement filled the air-conditioned multi-purpose hall as we sat down under the glare of the blazing ceiling light on the bright yellow mats to take ceremony for our first seminar with an overseas shihan on home ground.
Mineo Shihan was a compact, unassuming elderly man. He did a series of six techniques with us—all from the gyakuhanmi katate-dori position. Like Endo Shihan, emphasis was on connection, disrupting partner’s balance, and flow. He moved with measured and composed steps, never rushing a technique, always angling for a proper connection with the partner. I took ukemi for him a couple of times. I couldn’t tell whether the feelings were similar to those with Endo Shihan—the encounters were, after all, more than twenty years apart. But his touches were certainly soft, and behind them, there was power in reserve, like stepping lightly on the pedal of a Ferrari rather than going full throttle.
At some point in the seminar, the dojo—well at least my section of the dojo--almost transformed into a dance floor as we revelled in the joy of movement with controlled peals of laughter. It was fun, and Aikido practice should be fun, with lots of positive energy generated. And that can only materialise if focus is on the internal, on the very spirit that makes us a living thing. Each encounter between nage and uke brings with it an affirmation that we are beautiful, and alive.
I think that was the message Endo Shihan was trying to transmit through the delicacy of his touches twenty years ago. But I was too young, too insensitive, too eager, to get it. I probably still don’t get the full measure of his wisdom. But through Mineo Shihan, his teachings have wafted to us again like the subtle fragrance of cherry blossoms. Aikido is a tactile martial art. Transmission is through direct contact with the skin. And Endo Shihan has once again transmitted, through Mineo Shihan. It has come full circle.
“It was like touching cotton wool, and yet that cotton wool would suck you in, and without undue force, subdue your aggression. At the end of the encounter, you feel connected, convinced, and converted by that gentle persuasive power.”
Essay submitted for Yondan grading (2007)
by Sensei Ng Say Yong (5th Dan)
Tiger! Tiger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
— The Tiger, William Blake
1992
"Is he Japanese?" I asked Rafael, my dojo leader, as I slid out of my gi.
"No, he's Singaporean," Rafael whispered reverentially, hands by the side and head appropriately bowed.
"Well, he certainly behaves like one," I thought, recalling his manners in the dojo — strict, almost ritualistically so —the way I imagined how a Japanese martial arts teacher should behave.
But it wasn't quite Sensei's dojo manners that made the most impression. It was his movement. Even though the intricacies of the techniques eluded me, I could see him moving with the grace of a Balinese dancer. That our training was conducted in a dance studio made the analogy between aikido and dance even more intriguing. When Sensei took his ukemi, it was performed like an intricate dance. I always looked forward to the moment when Sensei flipped Rafael up in the air with a deft flick of his wrist, letting him hang there almost indefinitely before bringing him down to the mat with a soft thud.
Magic, I thought, somewhat enviously. Back then, I moved with the grace of a poorly lubricated robot. I would jerk my way through a shiho-nage as other students glided with measured assurance through the same movement.
"I could never move like that," I sighed with resignation, "I don't have the talent."
But for some reason, in spite of my obvious ineptitude, I hung around while the other students gradually dropped off. It had something to do with the philosophy of aikido. The more I read about aikido, the more it appealed to my sensibility. There is a profoundly spiritual dimension to O-Sensei's teachings that made aikido so much more than just a martial art.
But it was not only the philosophy of aikido that made me stay. It was something more immediate and tangible — the possibility of re-defining myself, a possibility clearly exemplified by Sensei.
Sensei is the physical manifestation of what aikido can achieve — a melting of form and function. Like a tiger palming down a galloping antelope in full flight. Deadly effective, yet undeniably beautiful. In that moment, there is no duality of good or evil, it just is. But that one moment of perfection does not happen by chance. It is moulded through years of training on the dojo mat — in Sensei's case, more than four decades.
Each time I sit on the mat looking up at Sensei demonstrating a technique, I see a whole world of possibilities opening up before us. In particular, I see aikido offering us the opportunity to live up to our highest human potential. We're like pliable clay waiting to be moulded into a beautiful piece of art. But that can only happen if we allow ourselves to be moulded. We must have discipline and an uncompromising attitude towards training. But equally important, we must be prepared to empty ourselves of preconceptions, to remain pliable so that our Sensei can help mould us into what we can be. It is this endless promise of redefining myself, from clunky robot to graceful dancer, that keeps me in aikido.
8 April 2007
Fifteen years have passed since I first stepped into the dance studio at my workplace that served as our dojo back then. Out of the fourteen or so students who started with me there, only one girl is still practising aikido.
I would like to think that my movements have improved somewhat since those early days. But each time I watch my Sensei in action at the dojo, I am reminded of how far away I am from perfection. And that is as it should be. Sensei is fond of telling us that between his Sensei and him lie an unbridgeable gulf of perfection. It is the same between my Sensei and me.
Rafael, who introduced me to aikido, was one of Sensei's regular ukemis. He has since been promoted to a sensei, and left Singapore with his family to stay at Victoria Island in Canada. These days, I have the privilege and honour of taking ukemi for my Sensei with some regularity. On some occasions, when the moment is right, he would flip me up in the air with a deft flick of his wrists, and there I would hang almost indefinitely, before he decides to bring me back to earth with a soft thud.
Magic, I would think to myself when I lie on the mat below his feet, no longer envious.
Postscript — August 2023
This essay was written in 2007 as part of my Yondan grading. Some of the sensibilities expressed in the essay have somewhat changed. Awe and respect have been tempered by later developments. But the gratitude remains. Grateful to O-Sensei for the gift of aikido, to Rafael and Sensei for introducing me to aikido and its myriad forms of expression, to my fellow students who train with me over half a lifetime, to young practitioners today who take ukemi for me allowing me to deepen my understanding of the art. And above all, grateful to be alive and still moving.
As I wade towards the fourth decade of my aikido journey, my interest and fascination for it have become, if anything, even stronger. But it’s no longer about techniques, nor martial effectiveness. It’s about the artistry of movements, flow of energy, perfect blending of form and function. The ferocity of the tiger with the gentle grace of a swan.
Why Do I Still Do Aikido
by Shelby Taye (2nd Dan)
"Society is unity in diversity" – George Herbert Mead.
I feel that this is a good way of describing Aikidoka. Various reasons draw us to this beautiful art and I would like to share mine in the hope of inspiring and motivating you on your martial arts journey.
How I started is a simple matter of chronological facts and circumstances but what keeps me coming back is of greater importance and the focus of this article.
"Self defense is not just a set of techniques, it's a state of mind that begins with the belief that you are worth defending" – Rorion Gracie
I was in search of a martial art that would protect me from one or more assailants. Occassionally getting bullied was inevitable, coming from a rough school in the 80s. Travel to the rougher parts of the region for work just reinforces the need for self-defence. Watching an aikidoka take on multiple attackers is a very awe-inspiring sight that I still find captivating. To be clear, I never want to hurt anyone, I just seek the confidence to stand tall knowing that I can manage things if the situation turns bad.
"Take care of your body. It’s the only place you have to live" – Jim Rohn
The high demands of a sedentary desk-bound job made it is easy for my health to deteriorate rapidly. Hence I was looking for something that not only developed fitness but also had a clear purpose. The advancement of age, too, made me reconsider boot-camp-style training. I wanted something more sustainable in the long run. Aikido, again, was my choice!
"There is immense power when a group of people with similar interests gets together to work towards the same goals." - Idowu Koyenikan
It is a great feeling to have a common interest among people who would otherwise be complete strangers. Aikido broadens social circles and makes the world a smaller and friendlier place.
"Absorb what is useful, discard what is useless and add what is specifically your own" ― Bruce Lee
My method of training in Aikido is a reflection of these perspectives. It gives me direction and focus. This is why I take training seriously. I always do my best to be sincere in my training. This is for the benefit of both my uke and myself in the hope that we can both grow in skill and experience by training seriously. Train with a joyful heart and see you on the mat!
"Everyone has a spirit that can be refined, a body that can be trained in some manner, a suitable path to follow. You are here to realize your inner divinity and manifest your innate enlightenment" ― Morihei Ueshiba
A summary of my 40 years training in Aikido
A reflection by our late member Dr. Rolf Jacobson (4th Dan)
Why did I choose Aikido?
My initial experience with martial arts was with Jiu Jitsu practiced in the 1950’s in Amsterdam, under chief instructor Mr. de Koning, a student of Anton Geesink the Judo champion in the Tokyo Olympics in 1964. I only reached the lowest grade, the yellow cherry blossom ;-)
Previously I was part of the BSAC Scuba section in the Tanglin Club and worked my way to becoming their Advanced Diving Instructor in September, 1989.
My affection for our diving community waned after 25 years, so I asked one of our office staff who practiced karate which art he would recommend. He suggested Aikido at the MYMCA.
In those years it was my deliberate purpose to do something different every year, either in study or in practice: archery, safe-cracking, Mandarin and Japanese classes, mixed martial arts, Tai Chi-Chuan style, PADI scuba diving to Open Water Instructor, Advanced Management Program by the Harvard Business School, and ultimately Aikido.
When I joined I asked one of the leaders if he could teach me Aikido in six months. He just laughed. I now understand. I am still learning in every session and far from perfection. Session #8876 [hours] was completed this morning (23rd of July, 2023) with Sensei Simon Lee who endured my imperfections with grace.
So what is so great about Aikido?
The easy answer in 2023 is to dump the question in Chat GPT’s lap:
“Aikido is a martial art that emphasizes the use of an opponent's energy and movements to defend oneself, rather than relying on brute force. It is known for its graceful and flowing techniques, and its focus on blending with an opponent's energy rather than clashing with it. Many practitioners of Aikido find that it helps them develop physical and mental discipline, as well as greater awareness and control of their own bodies.”
A very bland answer …
My personal experience is:
#1 That this art is the ultimate community and family of like-minded people who respect and fully trust each other, and try their utmost not to hurt their opponents during training.
Even though my father was interned by the Japanese in Java in WW2,
I was impressed by the courtesy shown to us by Japanese people during my five visits to Hombu Dojo, in 1998, 2003, 2004, 2006 and 2008.
#2 There is also the imperative that we must stay physically active, even if it feels like an exercise in masochism. Like it or not, the alternative is a swift and painful deterioration of our physique until we become basket-cases in old age, needing a wheelchair to remain mobile.
#3 The ultimate in oxymoron, Aikido is said to promote NON-VIOLENCE by teaching students to defend themselves in training against simulated attacks.
As our previous chief instructor Shihan George Chang Koon Chua from the Ueshiba association once said, insulting and aggressive words are only that; Words and provocative language should not provoke a violent response.
I admit that his teaching of Aikido was as close to absolute perfection as I have ever observed. No two lessons were the same. His actions later were very sad, but we do not know his side of the story.
In summary, I feel that it is better to do an activity (exercise) where we learn something useful rather than running on a treadmill or doing push-ups at home.
Walking around with your head held up high and showing that you are confident should be enough to discourage cowardly attackers looking for an easy target. That is just my unverified view. I must also admit that I have never had to resort to Aikido to defend myself.
The one and only time the surroundings felt unsafe and risky was in the old part of Las Vegas which I visited with my daughter. So we booked a taxi back to our hotel.
To students questioning the endless repetitive nature of our training, they may not be aware that the purpose is to develop muscle memory and the ability to react instantaneously based on past practice so that no thinking is needed.
Lastly from this long-winded summary, if you ever use Aikido in real life in the United States, you may end up in court accused of “Excessive use of force” if you are an experienced Aikido practitioner (from a book I read on this subject).
I will let Monica Chat GPT end this with her summary on the question “Why might an experienced Aikido practitioner in the United States end up in court accused of ‘Excessive use of force’?":
"An Aikido practitioner may end up in court accused of excessive use of force if they use a technique that causes injury or harm to an attacker, which can be interpreted as excessive force in certain situations.“
Finally, I would like to thank all of you for being so kind and patient with me, keeping me fit and well through the years gone by.
Aikido Milestones
27 March,1983 6th Kyu
25 September 1983 5th Kyu
24 June 1984 4th Kyu
21 April 1985 3rd Kyu
27 March 1988 2nd Kyu
26 June 1990 1st Kyu
6 June 1992 Shodan
23 May 1996 Nidan
22 May 1998 Sandan
25 November 2004 Yondan
Ed - Rolf passed away peacefully on 23 May 2024
My Aikido, My Way of Life
3rd Dan Aikido reflection by Benson Low
Aikido has been an integral part of my life for over 18 years. It is not just a martial art; it is a philosophy that has shaped my mindset and influenced my everyday existence. When I first learned about Aikido from a friend, I was in awe of its grace and effectiveness. Despite only being a brown belt at the time, my friend demonstrated exceptional control and skill, leaving a lasting impression on me.
However, it took me another ten years before I began my journey in practising Aikido. Life's demands and other commitments had kept me away from the dojo, but deep down, I knew that Aikido was calling me. I yearned to experience the harmony and discipline it offered. Finally, the day arrived when I stepped onto the mat and embraced Aikido as my way of life.
Attaining my 1st dan rank was a significant milestone in my Aikido journey. At that moment, I believed I had achieved a great accomplishment. However, the more I delved into the art, the more I realised that I was merely scratching the surface. Aikido, with its intricate techniques and profound philosophy, revealed to me the depths of my own ignorance. I understood that I was still a beginner, eager to explore the limitless possibilities that Aikido had to offer.
With this newfound awareness, I focused on honing my Aikido's basic movements. I committed myself to perfecting my control, precision, and timing. I understood that true mastery lies in the mastery of fundamentals. Every time life presented me with challenges—a bottleneck at work, personal hurdles—I turned to Aikido's teachings of going "back to basics." The principles I learned on the mat became guiding principles in my daily life.
Aikido taught me patience and perseverance. Rome was not built in a day, and great skill cannot be attained overnight. I accepted the fact that it would take years of dedicated practice to refine my techniques and deepen my understanding. Rather than feeling discouraged by the long road ahead, I embraced the journey with excitement and humility. I saw myself as a perpetual student, eager to learn, grow, and develop a more fluid and dynamic Aikido.
Aikido has become more than just a physical practice for me. It is a way of life—an embodiment of harmony, resilience, and self-improvement. On the mat, I have experienced the power of blending with an opponent's energy, redirecting their force, and resolving conflicts without aggression. Off the mat, I have translated these lessons into my interactions with others. I strive to find common ground, seek understanding, and resolve conflicts through peaceful means. The impact of Aikido extends beyond the confines of the dojo. It has helped me cultivate a calm and centred mindset, enabling me to navigate life's challenges with grace. The principles of non-resistance and non-violence have influenced my decision-making, encouraging me to seek harmony and find solutions that benefit all parties involved.
In conclusion, Aikido is not merely a martial art that I practise; it is the guiding force that shapes my perspective and influences my actions. It has taught me the value of continuous improvement, resilience, and harmony. I am grateful for the opportunities it has provided me to grow as an individual and contribute positively to the world around me. As I continue my Aikido journey, I remain committed to embodying its principles, both on and off the mat, and to inspire others to discover their own path of self-discovery and personal growth through this beautiful art form.
Chin’s Aikido Journey
2nd Dan Aikido reflection by Chin Teck Keong
In 2014, I started learning Aikido at the age of 43. It was not an easy decision. I was not anywhere near my youth. The motivation for me to pick up a martial art at mid-life was that I wanted to accompany my son to learn something and, at the same time, help him build his character, cultivate determination and resilience.
At that point, Aikido was not interesting to me. I was there because I wanted to help my son.
It was only after 2 years that I began to discover the intricacies of Aikido. It was perhaps because of my 3rd kyu grading - I was “forced to” remember the steps and footwork in detail. In the process, I understood the movements better and started to see the connections between the hand and footwork. I experienced Aikido in a different way. I felt the flow through the transitions in the kata (pattern). In a way, Aikido sometimes looks like a dance to me. But a very synchronized and “soft Taiji-like” way of dancing.
During the same period, I also started to get to know my classmates and seniors and built friendships in the dojo. I had the chance to not only learn from the sensei but also from the people around me. Very often, even when the classes were over, we continued to hang around on the mat to discuss, study the art and finetune our skills.
That was when my Aikido journey really started.
I began to feel the joy of practicing Aikido. I got to know Aikido deeper and my interest grew. From that point onwards, there was no turning back. I increased my training from once a week to twice a week. Still not a lot of sessions by the standards of many senpais (seniors), but I saw my skills and techniques improved noticeably.
In fact, as I looked back, I enjoyed my Shodan (first dan) grading more than my kyu grading. This was because I had reached a point where I lived and think regularly about Aikido: in my daily life, in between work and during travel.
Aikido is good exercise to keep my body fit and my mind sane amidst my busy work schedule and family life. I look forward to time in the dojo to bond and practice with my classmates. However, it has so much more to offer than exercise.
We also have the opportunity to learn the use of weapons – ken (Japanese sword) and jo (Japanese wooden staff). This helps us to develop our versatility and enhance our confidence. Weapons extend our arms but also make our mistakes highly visible. Hence, we need to continuously perfect our movements (although we will probably never achieve perfection in our lifetime).
This is my 10th year practicing Aikido. I am thankful for all the teachers and classmates who journeyed with me this far in this beautiful art.
I am continuing my search for the essence of Aikido. It is no longer just about techniques, skills, or footwork. I look inward to understand my mind and emotions and have developed a higher awareness of my thinking and feeling.
True Aikido is the alignment of heart, intention, ki (internal energy) and physical energy. It is the integration of every element in us into a seamless whole. This can only be achieved through consistent and persistent daily practice, not just physically, but coupled with mental visualization to give us the clarity required in our mind.
If you asked me what Aikido to me is today, Aikido is not just a defensive martial art. Having enough flexibility, we can modify our techniques to adapt to any situation.
I particularly love Aikido as a non-competitive art. We adjust our speed during practice to cater to the level of our partners. We take care of our uke (partner) to ensure the person lands safely to prevent injuries. We exercise compassion, and control our ego and urge to floor our partner aggressively.
Aikido techniques might not be suitable to be used in a fight within a ring or cage. However, these techniques can defend against a variety of other offensive techniques.
Outside of the dojo, in the real world when we cannot resolve the situation amicably or when we cannot walk away from an attack, Aikido can be powerful and practical to take down our opponent if executed decisively and courageously.
This is perhaps the true spirit of Aikido – the way of harmony – with and within ourselves, with people around us, with nature.
The journey continues ...