I grew up terrified of Dad. When I was 8 years old, whatever I did or didn’t do only made Dad so angry at me. I never knew which. I was not the son, he hoped for. I embarrassed him. Although I was scared as hell, I was even sadder inside. I would never be good enough for Dad. I would never be good enough for anyone, especially me.
Consequently, I spent much of my adult life proving that I was good enough. That I was good enough for Dad to love me. Still, good enough would never be enough. That’s the human design. That’s just life.
I could blame my childhood, blame Dad for my life sucking. I could have an unhappy life just to get back at Dad, just to be right. I could be right that my life sucked. I would be unhappy. That would be so fucking stupid. Really.
According to the First Noble Truth of Buddhism there will always be suffering in life. The Fourth Noble Truth of Buddhism is the path to end suffering. On the path, I trained in Aikido with the late Mizukami Sensei and Ishibashi Sensei, and worked with my therapist Lance Miller to heal my childhood trauma and depression.
Whatever trauma and abuse I endured was in the past, as were the people. I don’t blame anyone. I look in the mirror. I fix myself. I’m the only one who can. In over 35 years of Aikido training, I get that I can’t make someone do anything. I apply the Aikido technique on myself, not on others. I work on myself, not on them. I make it work. I make myself work. No one else can.
In Aikido, I enter what I fear, enter the danger. That’s the safest place to be. I hold my position under the attack, in the danger. Make my timing. I let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough over, and over, and over again. Although my fear inside never completely disappears, every time I enter what I fear, I let go more of my fear inside me. I free myself. I work on myself, not on others. I blame no one. I fix me. Not them. That’s all I can do.
In therapy with Lance Miller, I forgive Dad for not knowing how to be a father and for being afraid inside. Dad didn’t know any better. He only did what his Dad did to him. He got it far worse from his Dad than I did from Dad. I forgive Dad for being imperfectly human. I forgive myself for being imperfectly human, too. I don’t blame Dad. I fix myself, not him. That’s all on me.
After Sunday Aikido practice, I worked with Ishibashi Sensei on technique for the bigger stronger man grabbing my wrist with both hands. Sensei showed me what to do over, and over again. I got it. I don’t oppose the attack. Don’t defend against it. I extend both my hands in front and move forward. My feeling is out, from my strength inside me, from my center, ki. I move parallel to the attack, move with the attack. When I move perpendicular to the attack, I oppose the attack. I block the technique. I block myself.
I can’t make the attacker do anything. I get out of my own way. I let the attacker pass me. In the gap in the attack, I change the level of my hands in my space. The attacker literally gives me the technique, because they have to protect themselves. I apply the technique on myself, not on them. I work on myself. The attacker doesn’t matter.
Executing technique effectively has nothing to do with the attacker. I don’t blame them. It’s on me to make the technique work. I work on myself, not on them. I blame no one. It’s always and only on me.
I didn’t have the greatest childhood. How many of us did? Do the math. I put my head down. I do the work. I got my master’s degree in electrical engineering. I had a rewarding 37-year career in Satellite Systems Engineering. In nearly 40 years of Aikido, I’m Godan (5th degree black belt). I’ve had the honor and privilege of teaching over 100 black belts. I work on myself, not on others. That’s all I can do. I blame no one.
I’m 64 years old. I have more years behind than ahead of me. Maybe, I can pass on a few lessons I’ve gotten over a lifetime. Let go. That might be the hardest thing to do in life. Get out of your own way. Blame no one. It’s only and always on you. You’re responsible for your own happiness. No one else is. Simple. Not easy. Just train.
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Photo by Luis Villasmil on Unsplash
