Reflections - 2026

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by Chin Teck Keong

When I wrote my reflection after my Nidan grading, I described Aikido as a journey of discovering the beauty of the art. Looking back now, I realise that this journey has gradually become one of discovering myself.

When sensei Simon invited me to grade for my Sandan, I was hesitant at first. But ultimately I decided to go ahead with the grading, not because I believed I was ready for a higher rank, but because I wanted an honest measure of my practice. I wanted to understand whether my centre remained stable, whether I could stay relaxed under pressure, whether I could naturally lead my partner’s balance, and, most importantly, where my weaknesses still lie.

Preparing for this grading required many hours of repetitive practice, and it changed my perspective in ways I had not expected.

Through this repetition, my coordination, spatial awareness and concentration gradually improved. More importantly, it quietened my mind. Instead of focusing on individual techniques, I began to recognise the principles that connect them. My movements became more natural, my transitions smoother, and appropriate responses started to emerge without deliberate thought. The techniques gradually became less about remembering and more about responding naturally.

This experience reminded me that progress in Aikido is rarely dramatic. More often, it develops quietly through countless hours of sincere and consistent practice. The changes are not always obvious, but over time they become part of who we are.

Passing Sandan does not mean I have mastered Aikido. Rather, it reminds me how much more there is to learn. Only now do I begin to appreciate how technique, movement and mindset are gradually coming together. The path ahead remains long, and every step forward reveals even more to study.

Aikido continues to teach me that strength comes from balance rather than force, confidence from consistent practice rather than rank, and true progress from the humility to recognise one’s own limitations.

As I continue training, I hope to remain open to learning, willing to be corrected, and grateful to those who continue to guide and challenge me. I am deeply thankful to my instructors, seniors and training partners, whose patience, generosity and encouragement have shaped my journey.

The black belt may grow darker with time, but the heart should always remain that of a beginner.

by DH Wong

The first time I heard the word Aikido was in the early 1990s, when I was studying at a Japanese language school in Ikebukuro, Tokyo. At the time, it was just a word that passed through my ears without leaving any impression. I still remember one day in class when my teacher, K sensei, spoke with great excitement. She said, “Mr. S has arrived in Japan today. I’m so happy that we will be able to practice Aikido together at the Hombu Dojo.” Her joy was clear, and even now I can recall the expression on her face. However, despite her enthusiasm, Aikido meant nothing to me then. I felt no interest, curiosity, or sense of connection.

Later, through movies, I learned who Mr. S was. At that time, he was a world-famous Hollywood action star, admired for his strong presence and physical ability. From those films, I learned that Aikido was different from other martial arts. It did not appear aggressive or violent, but focused more on movement, balance, and control. Even so, my understanding was very shallow. I did not try to learn more, and I never imagined that Aikido would one day become an important part of my life. Looking back now, I realize that I may already have been standing at the entrance to this path without knowing it.

About twenty years passed as I became busy with work, family, and daily responsibilities. My true encounter with Aikido came not by intention, but by chance. My daughter began practicing Taekwondo, and I often waited for her during her lessons. One day, while waiting, I looked into a nearby dojo. Inside, I saw practitioners wearing hakama, moving smoothly across the mat. There was no sense of competition or collision. Instead, they moved calmly, fell, stood up, and moved again in a continuous flow. Their movements were closely connected to breathing, and the atmosphere felt quiet yet powerful. Watching this scene left me with a deep impression that words could not express. Something inside me was awakened, and that feeling stayed with me.

Soon after, I decided to try Aikido myself, without any clear expectations. At first, I thought of it as an experiment. However, as I continued training, it gradually became part of my daily life and way of thinking. The early stage of practice was not easy. I remember repeating ikkyo many times and being told again to relax and not use strength. Although the instruction was simple, applying it was very difficult. My body was tense, my posture unstable, and I could not find proper balance.

During that time, the presence of senior practitioners became a great support. Through their calm and careful guidance, I slowly learned the importance of posture, breathing, and timing. I came to understand that power in Aikido does not come from force, but from coordination and softness. This realization changed how I approached training and influenced how I think about effort in daily life.

As I continued practicing, my understanding of Aikido deepened. I began to feel that Aikido is not about defeating an opponent but about resolving conflict while maintaining balance and respect. Techniques cannot be practiced safely or meaningfully without care and awareness. Training places great importance on ukemi, which requires trust between partners. Through Aikido, I have gained trustworthy training partners, which have become very important to me. Beyond learning techniques, I feel that these human connections are an essential part of Aikido.

I have also learned from the different teaching styles of various instructors. Some emphasize strong movement and spirit, while others focus on subtle connection and calmness. Through these differences, I realized that Aikido allows each practitioner to develop their own understanding within the art.

Even now, I do not believe that my understanding of Aikido is complete. In fact, the longer I practice, the more aware I become of how limited my understanding still is. Mind, technique, and body cannot be understood through thought alone; they are slowly embodied through continuous practice. Just when I feel I have understood something, Aikido presents me with a new challenge.

Finding something I can continue to practice over a long period has given me a deep sense of fulfillment. Aikido has taught me patience, humility, and respect for others and for myself. If my body and mind allow, I hope to continue training. What began as a chance encounter has become a lifelong path, and I am grateful for the opportunity to keep learning through Aikido.