Reflection and Lessons Learnt
by Simon Lee Sensei
Case 1
In my BaGua class, a fellow practitioner, who is a pugilist master of many traditional forms, went on holiday to Hong Kong. During his trip, he decided to visit neighbouring Shenzhen city. While walking along a busy shopping street, an elderly woman approached him, offering high-quality counterfeit products. He told me that he empathized with the old woman, likely working on commission, and decided to accept her offer. He followed her as she led him a few minutes down a back lane and into a two-storey house. It was dimly lit inside, and she went ahead, saying she would inform the sales staff and turn on the lights.
As he walked through the door, trying to catch up with her, the door suddenly shut behind him. Four large Chinese men pounced on him. My friend is about 1.6 meters tall, while the four men were around 1.75 meters, likely from rural northern China. A struggle ensued, and my friend was quickly subdued. He was stripped down to his underwear and tied to a chair. The men searched his clothes, took the cash from his wallet, and threatened further harm unless he provided the ATM access numbers to his credit cards. After several slaps, my friend relented and gave them the information.
Time passed, and two of the men returned, informing him that they had withdrawn the cash. They told him to wait an hour before untying himself. They loosened the ropes. After freeing himself, he reported the incident to the police. On his returned to Singapore, he informed the media, who interviewed him and publicized his horrifying experience in the newspaper.
I asked him why he decided to share his story with the media, and he said he wanted to raise awareness about the danger. When I pressed him about why he didn’t fight back, he explained that he didn’t know how many more men were in the house or if they were armed. He shared that he could have fought one or two of them, but taking on four bigger men at the same time would have been extremely difficult and could have resulted in serious injury. It was a frightening experience!
Case 2
An unforgettable experience occurred during my family holiday in Italy. After visiting the Leaning Tower of Pisa, we passed through a small lane. The tour group was walking in a line with some distance between us. Two young girls approached me—one of them had a baby slung across her chest. She stands in closely in front of me. She gestured with one hand to me to look at the baby, while the other hand opened my waist pouch and removed my wallet. Unaware of what was happening, I smiled and stepped back.
The two girls then approached my son, and I followed, sensing something was wrong. When I checked, I realized my wallet was missing. I immediately confronted the girls. They began stripping their tops, revealing their bras and claiming innocence. My wife turned around, and other tour members rushed to see what was happening when I told them my wallet was gone. The group of tourists surrounded the girls.
In the commotion, I noticed a solitary man observing from a distance. Suspecting him to be their handler, I approached him. The man appeared to be Eastern European, about 1.8 meters tall, with a gypsy-like appearance. I told him that I had lost my wallet and wanted it returned, threatening to call the police if necessary. After a pregnant pause, he gestured to the girls. One of the girls handed me my wallet. I checked, and the €3,000 was inside, but $1,000 USD was missing. I stared at the man, demanding the return of the missing $1,000.
After another brief pause, he nodded to the girl and she took the $1,000 from the front deep recess of her pants and returned it to me. I counted it, then left.
When we returned to the tour bus, I needed a moment to compose myself before answering the many questions from fellow tour members.
Reflection
The non-confrontation and calmly resolving it with the handler perhaps reflects my martial art training in zanshin, mentsuke and seme, and/or is it just lucky to escape unscathed.
Case 3
In my Iaido class, my sempai shared with me, his recent encounter in Italy:
While on a tram, a man initially tried to strike up a conversation with me. I immediately sensed something was off, even though he was trying to appear friendly. Trusting my instincts, I moved away and sat near the door. After a few stops, I noticed him moving toward me, so I pretended to use my phone while keeping an eye on him. A little while later, two of his friends, whom I hadn’t realized were with him, pretended to alight. As they did, the first man grabbed my phone and quickly exited the tram. In shock, I quickly got up and chased after him. Though he was fast, I caught up to him, and a brief tussle ensued as I grabbed onto his hoodie drawstring. At this point, I hadn't struck him yet.
After about 10 seconds, a second person appeared and attempted to force me to let go of my grip by grabbing my ankle and pulling me to the ground. Despite this, I held onto the first man. The second guy kept pulling at my ankle, causing me to fall. I had drawn my tactical flashlight at the start, but it was cumbersome, and I couldn't find a good angle to strike him with it. Additionally, his hoodie would help to dampen the impact of any blows. After a while, they grew tired of the struggle and decided to hit me, resulting in several facial injuries, including a fractured maxillary sinus and a fractured tooth. In the chaos, my glasses were knocked off, making it hard to see, and the tactical flashlight was dropped during the falls caused by the second attacker.
Bystanders came to offer help and called an ambulance.
Lessons Learnt:
- Travel with a burner phone: If it gets stolen, the information loss is limited. You can get one from Lazada for about $80.
- Don’t rely on bystanders during a fight: The reason cited by onlookers for not intervening was that they couldn’t tell whether it was a prank.
- Ground your opponent: If you have to fight, aim to make your opponent fall. Being on the ground limits both parties' fighting abilities and should be your primary goal.
- Consider the time of year and clothing: Certain tactics may or may not be effective depending on your attire (e.g., a hoodie can absorb the force of a punch).
- Expect multiple attackers: These criminals often don’t operate alone.
- Be aware of your surroundings: Manipulate your environment to keep all attackers within your field of view. (This was challenging in my case, as it occurred on a staircase, but it could have been possible with better positioning).
- Adrenaline will wear you out quickly: A real-life fight is much different from a training session—your instructor isn't trying to injure or kill you. Focus on ending the confrontation swiftly.
- Zanshin (awareness): Stay alert to your environment. This principle helped me maintain awareness of the perceived threats.
- Trust your gut: If you feel someone has ulterior motives, move away or get off the train/bus. It's better to be 30 minutes late to your hotel than spend 4 hours in the hospital.
My Journey in Aikido: From Mimicry to Harmony
5th Dan Aikido Reflection
by Khoo Peng Beng Sensei
I remember about 30 years ago, sitting on the tatami mats at Tanglin CC dojo, just watching two hours of Aikido training. Just watching without expectations. Seeing how George Sensei moved and interacted with his students sparked in me a curiosity. It was then that I decided that I wanted to learn Aikido. As I reflect on my journey from white belt to fifth dan, I am reminded of the transformative power of this martial art. My journey has been one of gradual discovery, from mimicking techniques to experiencing the subtle nuances of energy and movement.
In the early stages of my Aikido journey, I concentrated on mastering its mechanics and form. I closely observed the movements of Sensei George and his senior students, diligently practicing and refining the techniques. I would spend considerable time mentally replaying what I had learned. As I progressed, I began to notice variations in technique during our trips to Hombu Dojo and when other senseis visited our dojo. I was fortunate to be Sensei’s uke and to experience firsthand the techniques of many remarkable senseis, often with varying degrees of awe and wonder. There were significant breakthrough moments along the way, but overall, my growth was gradual. Over time, I developed a deeper comprehension of the internal sensations and energies inherent in Aikido.
One of the most significant lessons I learned was the importance of relaxation. In Aikido, relaxation is not just a physical state but a mental one as well. It means yielding and receiving, rather than resisting and fighting. By relaxing, I learned to unite with the forces and energy of my partner, rather than opposing them. This understanding has had a profound impact on my daily life, particularly in conflict resolution.
Typically, our response to conflict is to either run, freeze or fight. However, through Aikido, I have learned to first receive — by entering or moving to the side and around — before engaging and blending with the opposing forces. This approach has allowed me to bring conflict to peaceful resolution rather than letting it escalate. By flowing with the natural forces, I have become more adept at navigating challenging situations, both on and off the mat. Off the mat as I learn to yield and relax in my mind and heart, on the mat my aikido practice improved. I have developed a greater capacity to receive and accept others as they are, fostering an environment of growth and development. This newfound understanding has also been beneficial in my role as an educator.
Teaching is an extension of learning. I love the mutuality that we acknowledge when we bow to each other: Without the students, there will be no teacher; without the teacher, there will be no students. Sensei George taught me that when you see the students, you see the teacher; when you see the teacher, you see the students. Instead of the worldly power that dominates or control, the power of Aikido comes from yielding. I have come to realize that yielding is not about relinquishing power but about experiencing a different kind of power.
Recently, I found myself lying quite powerlessly in hospital, in my sweaty dogi, after a hip ligament snap during training. I was not even able to go to the toilet unaided. As I worried about an upcoming demonstration scheduled a few days away, I found myself reflecting on the concept of power and powerlessness. It occurred to me that during my most vulnerable state, devoid of physical strength, I was carried both figuratively and literally by the unwavering love of my fellow Aikidokas. They took care of everything from informing my wife, calling the ambulance, driving my car to the hospital, and even offering me a Rosary with prayers.
It dawned on me that the power of yielding and compassion surges with vulnerability and acceptance. Contrary to my initial apprehension, my immobility proved to be a temporary setback. That Saturday, I demonstrated an Aikido that was minimal in movement whilst enabling my students to rise to the occasion with their powerful display of the graceful movements and energy. By empowering my students, I do not diminish my role as an instructor; rather, their growth and success serve as a catalyst for my own empowerment. This mutual reflection and connection raises the overall energetic state of our dojo. This understanding has transformed my approach to teaching. I now focus on creating a safe and supportive environment where my students can grow and thrive. Always committed to yielding and serving the collective advancement of Aikido within the dojo.
My journey in Aikido has been one of gradual discovery and transformation. From mimicry to harmony, I have learned to flow with the natural forces, resolve conflicts peacefully, and empower others through trust. As I continue on this path, I am reminded of the wisdom of O-Sensei, the founder of Aikido, who said, "The ultimate goal of Aikido is not to defeat others, but to defeat oneself." The practice of Aikido continues to transform my external state which in turn transforms by inner being.
Is Aikido Effective
Part One of the 5th Dan Aikido Reflection Trilogy
by Serge Landry Sensei
(Originally written for 3rd Dan Aikido Essay in 2003)
During my first year of Aikido, I remember somebody asking me: "Is Aikido Effective?” At that time and given my enthusiasm for the practice of the art, I quickly replied that Aikido was really effective! Indeed, if Aikido was not effective would I be practicing it in the first place and was it not obvious from all the wonderful throws how effective Aikido was?
Today, armed with many more years of dedicated practice, I would like to revisit this topic and provide some answers based on my own experience. In the first part of this paper, the antithesis, I will first consider what could lead a layperson to express doubts regarding some aspect of Aikido and attempt to counter these arguments. In the second part of this paper, I'd like to present the aspects of Aikido that convinced me to keep on practicing for all these years.
What could potentially lead some laymen to believe that Aikido may not be effective?
In today's competitive world, some people only value things in terms of winning and losing. Therefore, an art form where there is no clear winner or loser can seem disturbing to the layman. Indeed, in Aikido, partners take turns at being 'nage' (the one who throws) and 'uke' (the one being thrown). It may therefore appear to a layman as if each partner takes turns at being a winner (wrong interpretation of nage) and a loser (wrong interpretation of uke). But little does a layman realise that both uke and nage practices are necessary to get a complete understanding of a movement. Both partners benefit by experiencing both the feeling of throwing and of being thrown with all the control that they involve. Furthermore, I have come to realise that you can only hope to understand the art if you thoroughly engage in continuous learning of both uke and nage with the same intensity and dedication.
Another type of skeptic would look at the gracefulness of an Aikido demonstration and and wonder at how such a beautiful choreography can be effective outside a dojo. Little does that skeptic realise, as I have witnessed many times, that most Aikido demonstrations are not choreographed and are instead mostly improvised. Furthermore, such a degree of gracefulness that characterises some demonstrations can only be achieved by constant training of the feeling in order to be able to reach such a harmonious movement. Outside the dojo, this graceful movement might not look the same if the opponent is not Aikido trained; instead, injury of the limbs or spine is likely to result very rapidly. Luckily, an Aikido practitioner would not engage in this kind of street competition unless as a last resort.
What are the aspects of Aikido that were most effective in keeping me going all these
years?
I have come to realise that looking at Aikido solely based on its martial potential is to miss a lot of the other invaluable benefits that Aikido has in store.
One of the first things that Aikido is effective at is to teach discipline. Both the discipline of coming to training regularly, i.e., remaining focused and following something through as well as the discipline of being attentive in the dojo, refraining from talking, instead concentrating mind and body on the teaching of the Sensei in charge. This trait of Aikido is most obvious in the children’s class where some parents will marvel at the transformation in their turbulent children after just a few classes.
Aikido is also very good at helping you build a strong self both physically and mentally. It helps bring mind and body together into a complete entity without overly developing one rather than the other and putting too much strength on one rather than the other. Failing to harmonise body and mind results in movements out of sync. On the other hand, it is this symbiosis of mind and body that creates this image of gracefulness often associated with Aikido. However, a lot of time and dedication is necessary before reaching such a level of understanding. The next level of understanding is to harmonise with your partner, feeling the force coming your way and learning to blend with it. It is the repetition over and over of this art of blending that will ultimately help you develop a more and more harmonious way over the years.
But the benefits of Aikido are also visible in everyday life. Indeed, when practised regularly at the dojo, Aikido will provide a sense of balance both physically and emotionally that will remain as an active ingredient of your everyday interaction with others. Not only does Aikido provide a balance with office life by providing a way to evacuate the tensions of the day, during the evening practice, but it also provides the way to reduce conflicts at the workplace. Indeed, by applying the principle of Aikido when one encounters animosity at the workplace, one can avoid confrontation head-to-head and instead learn to listen to contentions and be able to reach compromises.
Another aspect to mention regarding Aikido is all the wonderful people that practice it. They come from all walks of life, from different cultures and nationalities, and love to share. Aikido has really become a huge international phenomenon, and the possibility of meeting other Aikido practitioners when traveling is a great opportunity to network with like-minded people.
The last point of appeal that I would like to mention is the fact that the practitioner does not stop progressing after a certain age. Aikido can be practised at any age, and it is very inspiring to see the senior classes at Hombu dojo and see how strong they are. It is a great motivation for me to want to continue Aikido.
As a conclusion, in this paper I was only able to offer a glimpse into what Aikido can bring, as I still have a long way to go. But I would like to take this opportunity to thank George Chang Sensei, chief instructor at Ueshiba Aikido Association of Singapore, for his constant guidance as well as all the people with whom I have had the opportunity to train and that somehow play a part in my journey through Aikido.
Serge Sensei taking ukemi (i.e. practice being the uke) for Simon Sensei during demo.
Aging Gracefully
Part Two of the 5th Dan Aikido Reflection Trilogy
by Serge Landry Sensei
(Originally written for 4th Dan Aikido Essay)
As I was changing up following keiko, my regular aikido practice at Tanglin Community Centre, a member of a different activity class enquired :“How long have you been practicing aikido? - Right! That is a long time! - But, what is your goal? What are you looking for? What are you trying to achieve?” I thought for a while. What a strange question. But how could I provide a relevant answer? Indeed, was there an ultimate agenda I could invoke that was keeping me week after week at my continuous practice?
Keeping on improving, being better, was certainly a possible answer but not a goal in itself. But how much improvement would be enough before one could decide that it was sufficient, before I had reached that goal? And indeed, what was this mysterious goal that I could be trying to reach? I was surely not intending to take on Superman! There was no such superhero whose strength I was trying to match.
In the process of training, I had gone through improvements on many things: discipline, attitude, spirit, walking upright, and balance. But these were indeed only improvements, and there seemed to be no end to the progress to be made. The better your understanding, the more it seems that there was to learn. This could not constitute any potential finite goal in itself.
Aikido also allowed me to meet wonderful people from many different walks of life, some of whom have become my friends. But no matter how good sharing a beer after training can be, this was also not the goal I could invoke for my answer.
Spreading my belief in Aikido to people around me is also a strong motivation justifying my training. But this also does not constitute a goal in itself; what number of people could justify wanting to stop and reach the intended quota?
Looking back in time, I remembered the first time I stepped into Hombu dojo. It was the beginning of the 6:30 class. This frail-looking, elderly Japanese lady asked me to be her uke. I remember being surprised at first, and when she gave me her arm to grab, I intended to be very gentle. But quickly I realized how powerful and centered she was. That day, I had the privilege of having one hour of training with the most flexible, powerful, and experienced practitioner I had ever met. Role models are such an inspiration to get us all to carry on, aspire to improve ourselves, and our relationship with others. Surely Aikido had taught me many things. It is bringing such a strong sense of balance to my life.
Then it struck me!
From the many wonderful Aikido practitioners whom I met through the years, it was clear that there was no end to the training of Aikido. As long as one was willing to go on, improvement was endless; age was no barrier to that improvement. And it looks as if many of the people who have been practicing Aikido for many years look much younger than they actually were. From walking upright, having strength inside, feeling good, and continuously progressing, the “goal” suddenly appeared, obvious.
I answered: “My goal is aging gracefully.”
I remembered him looking at me, taken aback, and adding: “Maybe I will consider joining Aikido!”
I would like to thank all the wonderful Aikido practitioners that contribute to always inspire me and especially Georges Chang Sensei, for his dedication to our teaching.
Aikido for Life: A Trilogy
Part Three of the 5th Dan Aikido Reflection Trilogy
by Serge Landry Sensei
Upon receiving my 5th Dan award, this essay will reflect on my journey so far and attempt to project what lies ahead. It will review the content of what I wrote in my 3rd and 4th Dan essays and reference the three essays to highlight what I see as a natural progression in the art of Aikido.
My Journey So Far
What I am most grateful for is the opportunity to continue my learning journey, where I am still privileged to feel Aikido growing inside and around me. This journey began when I was a 15-year-old teenager in a small town in France (Le Mans), where I started my first two years of practice. I experienced a Western interpretation of the art, with a strong emphasis on high throws.
Life led me to different locations and countries, where I paused Aikido for a while and experimented with other martial arts. However, I always returned to Aikido. When I went to Malaysia for the first time, I resumed my practice at WMCA in Kuala Lumpur during my 18 months of lecturing at the University of Malaya. It was only when I settled down in Singapore that I restarted my Aikido journey, now training and teaching continuously for over 30 years. This continuous focus allowed me to develop a new understanding based less on dramatic high throws and more on center-based movements, with a strong focus on control.
First Essay of the Trilogy: 3rd Dan - "Is Aikido Effective?"
When I wrote the first essay of the trilogy in August 2003, upon reaching my 3rd Dan, the focus was clearly on 'looking inside oneself,' i.e., self-development and self-improvement. The focus of this first paper was on martial effectiveness, remembering the times when my Aikido training helped me navigate challenging situations in the street, either by deflating the need for fighting or overcoming attackers without harming them. It was a paper dedicated to motivating people to explore the many dimensions of Aikido, realizing that Aikido has the power to aid in various aspects of self-development both physically and mentally. It offers a useful set of skills to help achieve confidence in tough situations, as well as in everyday life. This could possibly be what the founder of Aikido referred to as 'Being One with yourself.' Note that the first paper warns about only being able to 'offer a glimpse into what Aikido can bring,' but the astute reader will notice the beginning mentions of relationships with one's partner and the bridge to other cultures through international exchanges, which will become stronger in the essays of the trilogy.
Second Essay of the Trilogy: 4th Dan - "Aging Gracefully"
The second essay still 'looks inside oneself' and talks about self-improvement and continuous progression. However, the paper clearly focuses on expanding and 'looking out' to connect with other people, positively engaging with many different types of people, spreading Aikido knowledge, and being a role model. It discusses improving our relationships with others, transcending cultures and boundaries, providing a sense of balance in life, and ultimately, endless improvement. The more you learn, the more there is to learn from yourself and others. Possibly, this could be what the founder of Aikido referred to as 'Being One with your partner.'
Third Essay of the Trilogy: 5th Dan - "Aikido for Life: A Trilogy"
This third essay attempts to focus on spreading and improving Aikido through teaching, remembering that teaching is also learning. From the many great teachers I have met during my journey, it has become clear that Aikido has many interpretations and forms. As part of my journey, I have the privilege of learning through the movements of my students, whom I am delighted to see growing month after month. These students, while trying to replicate my moves and fine-tune theirs, allow me to deepen my understanding of my own Aikido. This, in turn, enables me to explain better and adopt different approaches in different circumstances.
The teacher provides guidance for students to overcome their difficulties and improve further. He introduces variations to accommodate different partners, whether small or large, shorter or taller. Expanding on topics introduced in the previous two essays, it is constantly necessary to adapt to your partner, students, and classes. A higher-grade student must match their techniques to suit their partner(s). The white belt student cannot be expected to match their higher-grade partner, as this risks causing frustration and injury. It is up to the higher-ranking partner to facilitate the learning of the upcoming partner. This is also a chance to recall the feelings of being a beginner and learn from these feelings even at a higher grade. This includes providing sufficient resistance but not too much, so as not to block the movement and discourage the partner. We are all learning through gradual levels of difficulty, and that includes the teacher as well.
Another dimension that allows for increasing learning and sharing is captured in the phrase "Have Aikido, will travel," i.e., engaging with many people and cultures when you have the chance to receive traveling practitioners or when you travel overseas. Aikido promotes harmonious relationships rather than antagonistic ones, offering a chance to exchange and learn from the many Aikido practitioners around the world. Another important point in Aikido progression is considering the surroundings to ensure safety, as in training on a crowded mat or multiple partner attacks, considering them as one. Using wide vision, constantly positioning yourself to see whom/what is around you, is crucial.
It is my belief that a wider vision, combined with being centred, comes through continuous training and teaching for many years. We obviously cannot compare with professional Uchi-deshi, who will naturally reach an even deeper understanding by investing their full time in the art. However, with perseverance and the right attitude, one can continuously improve, making the effort and dedication well worth it. Possibly, this could relate to what the founder of Aikido referred to as becoming 'Being One with the universe.' I cannot help but acknowledge that I will need more than a lifetime to fully comprehend this. Luckily, I am still practicing Aikido joyfully, with the same desire to learn, improve, and share. Aikido is the right art for me.
Acknowledgements
I would like to take this opportunity to thank all the people who have inspired me during my journey, including teachers, partners, and students. Keep on practicing!
My Aikido Journey
5th Dan Aikido Reflection
by Khoo Poh Bin
When I began my Aikido journey in 1994, I knew very little about the art. My only reason for joining was proximity—the dojo was conveniently located near my office on Scotts Road. Alongside my colleague at the time, Peng Beng, we decided to give it a try. For me, it was simply a way to escape the monotony of office life, get a good workout, and explore something new. At that point, I had no expectations or preconceptions about what Aikido would bring to my life.
We trained in a small hall on tatami mats at Tanglin Community Centre under Sensei George Chang. The dojo, though modest in size, was filled with warmth, an infectious energy and discipline that I quickly grew to admire. As a white belt, everything felt new and somewhat overwhelming. Watching the senior students take ukemi for Sensei with fluidity, precision, and graceful movements was an awe-inspiring experience. I was captivated by their skill and dedication.
Under Sensei's guidance and with the support of the seniors, I began learning the fundamentals. Each class was not just a physical practice but also a lesson in humility, patience, and perseverance. Sensei’s teachings often extended beyond the mat, touching on how Aikido principles could be applied to everyday life.
One of the key insights I gained early on was the importance to be one with my partner, either as uke or nage. To be receptive, soft, and yielding, yet maintaining control and awareness. These principles, I realized, were as much about personal growth and philosophy as they were about technique. The idea of blending with an opponent’s energy instead of opposing it, finding harmony in conflict, and always moving with intent resonated deeply with me.
Along the way, Sensei also emphasized the importance of independence, a concept that I didn’t fully understand its connection to Aikido at the time. Independence seemed tangential to martial arts, where guidance and repetition were the cornerstones of learning. However, as I progressed in my training, I began to realize that independence was not just a skill—it was an essential part of the journey. In Aikido, independence involves more than simply executing techniques correctly. It is about understanding the essence of each movement, interpreting it through personal experience. No two practitioners will express a technique in the same way.
Over time, I began to appreciate that Aikido is not just a martial art but a way of life. It challenges you to adapt, to stay centered under pressure, and to approach life’s challenges with grace and composure. These lessons have stayed with me over the years, shaping not only how I train but also how I interact with others, make decisions, and navigate the complexities of life.
Even after many years, I remain a student of Aikido in every sense of the word. Executing the movements and embodying its principles in daily life is a continuous journey. Aikido has taught me that growth is not about perfection but about consistent effort and a willingness to learn.
Looking back, what began as a casual pursuit to break the routine of office life has evolved into a lifelong journey of discovery, discipline, and personal transformation. Aikido has enriched my life in ways I could never have anticipated, teaching me invaluable lessons about harmony, resilience, independence and continuous growth. For that, I am deeply grateful to the art and the community that has supported my journey.
Tight Tight, Loose Loose
3rd Dan Aikido Reflection
by Wong Mei Hua
“Tight tight, loose loose, tight loose, loose tight.”
The above description summarises my Aikido journey till date, and the cycle repeats. I recall when I first started training, I commonly heard George Sensei saying “relax relax” while on the mats. As I finished an hour’s worth of class at Ulu Pandan Community Center, my whole body would feel stiff. I thought to myself, how do the older folks practise for two-hours.
As I started partnering various Aikidokas, especially adults, my tightness was an impediment to partnering them effectively. A simple wrist grab from my uke restricted me from performing my technique. I was stuck and could not do anything, let alone defend myself. I recall an instance where after several attempts to manoeuvre my wrist away from being gripped, I sighed and dropped my shoulders as a sign of defeat. Still having my wrist held, I turned my entire body away from my uke to look around for a senior for help, to my amazement, my uke was on the floor! And viola, I realized that was what Sensei meant when he repeatedly asked us to “relax”. In that moment, when I was not focusing solely on my wrist, and moved with my entire body, I was more powerful than my uke.
With this revelation, I stepped into class hoping to perform ‘good Aikido’, or Aikido at a renewed level. I started enjoying classes, the fatigue I used to feel after each class was gone. My limbs felt like a jellyfish. I wriggled my arms and shoulders through the different movements. I felt relaxed, calmer, and I was not shy in partnering my seniors during classes. Trainings became enjoyable, my techniques felt fluid and smooth. I was confident in signing up for seminars, to meet other practitioners and wondered how Aikido looks like outside of my home organisation.
“When someone calls you stupid, you smile, say thank you and walk away.”
In my teenager days, Sensei sat the class down and shared the sentence above with us. I was completely puzzled and thought to myself “what nonsense is that, why would I do that.” I could not fathom the idea of walking away after being humiliated. Years later, what Sensei said started making sense. I am in control of my emotions even after being attacked. In Aikido, we can control the attack by leading it.
The exposure from watching different Senseis practise Aikido helped deepen my understanding of leading an attack. Each Sensei moved differently, even if they were performing the same technique. However, they all have something in common. They all led their uke as if the uke is being sucked into their zone with their centripetal force. Naked to eye, it seems like there was an invisible thread between the Sensei and uke. It made the demonstrations easy to watch. It was a feast for the eyes and ignited my passion for this art.
I started moving with the flow, I started perceiving an attack with an invisible thread heading towards me. And my aim was to connect with the thread, draw circles with it, and complete the circle until the force is harmless. I had a renewed energy to practise the art. Classes became even more fun and enjoyable, I looked forward to being on the mats each week, drawing many circles and being as circular as possible. I had developed a desire to deep-dive further and explore what else this beautiful art can offer.
While practising with a senior who was always Sensei’s uke, he shared that I could delve into ukemi. Soon after our conversation, he was called up by Sensei to be his uke. It was eye-opening to see him flip into the air when Sensei flicked his wrist. It was as though the universe froze and his entire body was lifted off the ground. His palm would then lightly touch the mat like a feather falling on the ground. A high fall executed in a split second felt much longer, and before we knew it, he was back on his feet - the world resumes unpaused. It was exhilarating and visually appealing to watch him execute high falls repeatedly.
As I attempted to learn about ukemi, I experienced feeling like a heavy sack of potatoes being dropped on the mats, making loud bangs on the floor. The energy, or Ki, I was receiving from my nages’ were tight, hard, and sometimes stiff. The Ki I was giving them were also restricted and inflexible.
I felt as though I was a junior belt again. The cycle of me struggling through Aikido repeated itself. It was ineffective, tiring, and dangerous. It was not sustainable. Something had to change. I started relaxing and tried my best to be firm but also flexible. I tried to visualise giving my nage a thread allowing him to connect, and I chased after the tip of the thread that he formed. My footsteps got lighter and quicker as I become much more sensitive to my nage’s movements. I found myself following my nage even in the smallest movements. Ukemi never felt so light for my body ever.
After all these years, I have come to learn that no one technique is the same, never one ukemi is the same. On certain days, my body feels relaxed and calm. On other days, I can barely touch my toes. Some days I focus on immobilisation, other days I focused on something else like finding my center of gravity. Till date, I continuously unlearn and learn Aikido. I adapt to a style that works best for my physique. There is no one technique, one style for all and that is what makes this martial art so graceful and hypnotising.
For all Aikido practitioners that I have crossed paths with, and those I have yet to, thank you for giving me the space to experiment, for being gentle with me to keep me injury-free for the past 23 years, and, thank you for sharing your own experiences selflessly with me and those training alongside with me.
FallDownGetUp
Essay submitted as part of a 3rd Dan grading, but more importantly, as a reflective pause
by Cheang Kai Wen
I struggle to recall the first day I donned a gi and stepped onto the mats as a wide-eyed nine-year-old child. What I do recall, however, is a childhood quite largely defined by Friday evening Aikido trainings. I revered my Sensei for his deft movements on the mat, admired my seniors who seemed to grasp new techniques so easily and… a gratifying McDonald’s supper after each class.
Every Friday, I looked forward to rolling around on the mats, avoiding punches and trying to figure out just how to stop my uke from getting out of an armlock. As a child, it was fun and largely mystifying. Each technique was a series of steps to memorise – side-step, grab the wrist, lift it up, spin around…
As I outgrew my thin single-woven gi and stepped into those uncomfortable teenage years, Aikido classes became something I really dreaded. Traveling more than an hour to the dojo after a long day of school felt miserable. Techniques felt more difficult. Getting another coloured belt seemed pointless. Simply 'grabbing a wrist and spinning around’' was definitely not going to make the cut at a black belt grading. Unbeknown to me at that time, I was only at the cusp of finding out that Aikido was so much more than just a series of steps and a bunch of coloured belts.
"We endeavour to sink our roots deep and relax under pressure. We relish our animal physicality and natural power. We step forward into our fear and practice letting go of force and control. We know that falling is an essential part of the game. We roll with the punches and come up with a grin, ready for more. We love and respect the wisdom of our bodies. When we remember to trust the universe and whatever lessons it brings, we are better able to heal ourselves, hold onto our sanity, and live peaceful lives.”(Kathy Park)
Two decades later, I found myself deep in the throes of child protection work. This was a field filled to the brim with unimaginable trauma and tension. Our bodies hold anxiety in countless ways. A pounding headache, stomach cramps, stiff shoulders, a lingering cough... It was in those high-pressure years that I fully appreciated the healing power of the Art. Each Friday, I turned up at Aikido class silently holding stories of trauma. And for two hours each week, there was nothing else to think about but to let go of anxiety, learn to relax under pressure, and trust my body.
Aikido is demanding. It asks that you connect with your body. From the top of your head right down to your tippy toes. It asks that you feel the tension in your jaw and let it go. It asks that you feel the fear in anticipation of a punch and let it go. It asks that you connect beyond your body – sending energy down into the ground and up into the skies. It was a stark reminder that a grounded, centred body can work seamlessly with the space around it – as one entity – on and off the mats. This art helped me experience the power of accessing our bodies to heal and for that I am grateful.
"When an Aikido student learns that it’s possible to fall without getting hurt and to roll back on her feet, it’s a mind-blowing experience… She learns that falling is one word: falldowngetup." (Kathy Park)
Aikido is forgiving. It teaches that falling is okay. From front rolls to high falls, Aikido teaches that – if done correctly – there is actually gentleness in falling. Falling, or rolling away, is not a sign of weakness. In fact, it is a logical response of getting out of danger. It is a means to re-establish balance in a safer position elsewhere. It is a chance to ground the body once more. In and outside the dojo, falling is inevitable. Off the mats, falling is often not physical. It looks different each time – scoring 2/20 in a math test, failing a job interview, losing a relationship. But the lessons are the same. These are all opportunities to get right back up, ground the body better, and re-establish our balance once again.
The mind and body are both demanding and forgiving. Just like Aikido. This art demands that both the mind and body be trained. One cannot expect to learn Aikido simply through demonstrating a physical technique perfectly. Neither can simply visualising a technique without executing it be considered a success. It is this balance of the mind and body that keeps Aikido magical for me.
After all these years, I am convinced that the point of practicing Aikido on the mats is to bring it off the mats and into the world. After all, the objective number of hours we spend on the mats cannot rival the time we spend off the mats. If we work the principles of Aikido, we bring more grace and calmness in our lives. We realise that we are 100% responsible for our choices. We recognise that when someone else is off-centre, we can choose to extend graciousness. We recognise that when we are off-balance, we can choose to regain our grounding. We realise that we can trust the process and our bodies. And we realise that we can be okay with simply breathing and being.
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