NBA Hall of Fame Legend, the late Kobe Bryant said, “I have a problem with people who expect to be great but don’t put in the work.”
I put in the work. I work on myself, not on others. Ishibashi Sensei says, “Apply the (Aikido) technique to yourself.” The attacker is irrelevant. It’s me against me. O-Sensei Morihei Ueshiba said, “True victory is victory over oneself.” Just train.
I don’t become Shodan; I wouldn’t be Godan (5th degree black belt) without Mizukami Sensei. Sure, I had to listen, grind it out, put in the work. Just train. Sensei created a generous space to work on myself. In that space, I was free to succeed, to fail, and grow from both. I was free to be me. I didn’t have that freedom as the frightened 8-year-old growing up with Dad.
If I just work on myself, by myself, then the world doesn’t evolve into a greater place. The world becomes greater when we all work on ourselves. I really have nothing to do with what goes on inside others. Still, I can get what it’s like to be them. Have compassion and empathy for others. In my listening and speaking of others, I generate the space for them to work on themselves, invent their greater-than versions. They choose whether to put in the work, to just train. When they choose to work on themselves, it’s on. They can’t expect to be the greater-than versions of themselves without putting in the work. That’s Kobe and me just saying.
In Thursday evening Aikido class, Ishibashi Sensei and I trained together. It was just the two of us in class. Sensei is the profound student of Mastery. Mastery defines in nuance, in precision, in the feel. The late Mizukami Sensei taught us to train with our feelings out: Extend ki (inner strength) in the technique.
We practiced kotegaeshi (wristlock) for the two-handed attack. The uke (attacker) grabs my wrist with both hands. As the nage receiving the attack, I move in tenkan (pivot position). Sensei instructed how to move the attacker around my center. I match up with the attacker in my center. I apply the technique to myself, not the attacker. It’s me against me.
I offer my hand in nikkyo (wristlock). As the attacker grabs with both hands, I transition applying kotegaeshi (wristlock) to myself, putting my wrist in position. I move the attacker around me. My hand is the kensen, the sword. Next, I apply nikkyo to myself, putting my wrist in position. Then, I apply sankyo (wristlock) to both of my wrists grabbing the attacker’s wrist. I maintain contact with the attacker in front of me. I keep my feelings out.
The uke keeps attacking my center (ki) in applying pressure. I let the attack pass me. I throw the uke, the attacker, in kotegaeshi. The attacker applies kotegaeshi to themselves and takes the fall. If the attacker resists the technique, they risk injury to themselves. That’s just budo (martial arts). That’s the training.
Sensei and I worked on ourselves as both uke and nage. In working on ourselves, we helped the other work on himself. We trained together for the entire class. Intense and a lot of fun.
Sensei said that we work on ourselves so that others can work on themselves too. By raising the level of the training, we raise everyone’s level. We bring everyone up with us. We generate the space for others to work on themselves, invent the possibility of true victory over oneself. The open invitation. That invitation extends beyond the Dojo, out in the world. Others choose what to do, who they become.
A couple of years ago, 24-year-old Lt. Jon granted me permission to guide him in the world of Satellite Systems Engineering. In our partnership, I helped Jon get into Medical School, his profound calling. I was the technical lead for the Satellite System Project that we worked on. Jon was the Project Leader. Jon was good-looking, smart, with a sense of humor, but lacked experience in working large Government Satellite Programs. When Jon didn’t understand something, he was thrown to talking a lot, instead of just listening. Something that we can all relate to. Just saying.
As an operating practice, I’d drive down to Jon’s office for conference calls with the Government Contractor. I got Jon to slow down. Something that Mom had done for me. I got Jon to listen first before he spoke. Ask questions for context, instead of content. I muted our conference calls and said, “You might want to ask this…” Jon had the space to work on himself. He was free to be himself, to invent his next greater-than version, the one who listened thoughtfully, before he spoke. Soon, Jon led the meetings on his own. He put in the work, worked on himself becoming the greater leader. Jon did that. That had nothing to do with me. Well, maybe just a little. I’m not as humble as the late Mizukami Sensei. Just saying.
When Jon left to attend Medical School, I said, “You make me proud.” Jon said, “You kept me on the right path.” I dropped a few tears. We hugged. No, I don’t have children of my own. Jon was like a son to me. Nothing but mad love and respect to Jon.
We work on ourselves, not on others. In doing so, we generate the space for others to work on themselves, as well. Their open invitation. They still have to put in the work. Just train. It’s not like they have to get somewhere.
In the bigger picture, we bring up everyone with us. It’s about them becoming the best versions of themselves. Amen.
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