In Sunday morning Aikido Class, Ishibashi Sensei and I trained in jyuwaza. In jyuwaza, I used various techniques for the incoming attack. I can do ikkyo, nikkyo, sankyo, kotegaeshi (wristlocks), iriminage (strike to the head of the attacker), and others. I wait it out. I invite the attack. I don’t oppose the attack. I match up with the attack. We trained for the ryokatate attack: I grab Sensei’s two hands with my two hands.
Sensei and I went at it. We went at each other with intensity. No jyuwaza is not a fight. Sensei and I only apply the Aikido technique to ourselves, not to each other. When we train, we train to make each other better. That’s the promise and purpose of the training. It’s not about me. It’s about the other.
Sensei and I have trained in Aikido together for 35 years. He’s my big brother. I love him. Sensei makes me the greater man. I try to do the same for him, too. We threw each other taking turns going back and forth. Like our Sensei, the late Mizukami Sensei, it’s one time. We throw each other with our feeling out, we throw from our one point, ki.
When I trained with Sensei, I was happy. I had so much joy in the moment. Over the years, the late Mizukami Sensei had Ishibashi Sensei and me train together on technique. Going back and forth with Sensei, I felt the late Mizukami Sensei’s spirit inside me. I tried to throw with the same feeling Mizukami Sensei had. Ishibashi Sensei did the same. Feeling out. It’s one time.
Mizukami Sensei’s wife Alyce said to me, “Dan (Sensei) would have wanted to you keep training in Aikido.” Alyce got that Sensei was a like a father to me. In many ways, Sensei saved my life. He gave me life, too. In training with Ishibashi Sensei, we both kept Mizukami Sensei spirit alive. Mizukami Sensei is always inside me. He’s present for me almost every day.
After practice, I told Ishibashi Sensei, “That was fun.” Sensei smiled, “You never too old.” I smiled back, “Nope.” I’m 62 years old. Sensei is a couple years older than me. Aikido is the great love of our lives. We do what we love for as long as we can. We have as much fun as we can, too. Why do anything, if it’s not fun? I’m just asking.
When I was a little boy, I couldn’t have any fun. I knew that whatever fun I had at the time would end ugly. Invariably, I would be sad, sometimes crying. I would be having fun playing with my cousins or drawing my favorite superheroes, then Dad would get mad at me for some reason or not. Childhood was my no-win scenario. Mostly, I was very sad.
Yet looking back at my childhood, that was all on me. Not Dad. I was just young and dumb. Instead of fearing the predictable future, I could have kept having fun in the moment until the end. I really can’t worry about something bad happening until it does happen. Yeah, I worried way too much back then. Nowadays, I worry a lot less. I’m still working on that, too.
When Sensei and I trained, we were not old in the moment, not thinking about the future, we were just present in the moment. We enjoyed the moment. We had fun in the moment. We were living life.
Life is a collection of moments. In life, I have good moments; I have bad moments. I live for the moment, live for the present. In the bigger picture, I try to collect more good moments than bad ones.
That’s also on me to create as many good moments as I can. I train in Aikido as much as I can. I write for the Good Men Project about loving and forgiving thine own self on the path to end suffering. I see movies and share my reviews with my movie critic friend Michael Phillips. I have as much joy and fun in the moment.
Our time on Planet Earth is finite. That’s just the human design. I live for the present, live in the moment. I try to have as much joy in every moment. The Game of Life is collecting as many good moments as we all can. That’s having a good life, having a meaningful life. There’s nothing more meaningful than having fun. Amen.
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Photo by Héctor J. Rivas on Unsplash
