Upon returning from Aikido Seminars at different Dojos, the late Mizukami Sensei asked, “So what did you learn, Jon?” At best in seminars, I got to practice with good black belts. Otherwise, I didn’t really learn anything useful. Mizukami Sensei taught me what I needed. Most of those seminar techniques wouldn’t work in a real attack, on the street.
The Sensei in seminars may have looked strong, but that was the uke, the attacker, taking good falls. By good falls, I mean that the uke took spectacular falls for no good reason. The uke didn’t take falls to avoid the danger, because they weren’t made to. That’s not budo, traditional martial arts. You make the Aikido technique work so that the uke has to take the fall. They don’t fall all on their own. Mizukami Sensei taught me that.
Before attending Aikido seminars, Mizukami Sensei adamantly reminded, “Do what the Sensei does. Don’t do what I do.” Sensei was a father to me and the Humblest Man on Planet Earth. I said, “Hai.” I followed the Sensei’s instructions, even when I got that those techniques were utter bullshit, utterly useless in real attacks. Those techniques just weren’t going to work. Period.
I answered Sensei’s question, “Those techniques are not going work on someone, bigger and stronger.” I spewed my diatribe, while Sensei smiled. When I was done, he talked me down from the ledge of my self-righteousness. Sensei said, “Show me.” So, I told Sensei to punch me. He did. I showed him the seminar technique. I told Sensei that I can’t throw him, if I have to force the throw.
Again, Sensei smiled. He showed how to make the technique work. He told me to move his head slightly forward, move his mind forward, then come over with iriminage (clothesline technique to the head). Open up my hips and throw. In Aikido practice, Sensei said, “Wait it out. Enter the attack. Take a glancing blow if you have to. It’s one time.” He made the technique work. Sensei didn’t make the seminar Sensei wrong nor that seminar technique. Mizukami Sensei only gave mad respect.
Sensei constantly reminded, “Make it work.” I make the Aikido technique work for myself against any attacker. I make myself work, too. I work on myself, not on others. That’s all I can do.
Mizukami Sensei said that there are all kinds of Aikido out there. Some good, some not so good. He said that had O-Sensei Morihei Ueshiba been alive today, his Aikido would not look like it did 60 years ago. He would have evolved his Aikido. He would continue making it work. That stayed with me over the years, long after Sensei passed away.
I work on myself, not on others. I evolve myself. I work on becoming the greater man, the greater person. Sensei said that he really didn’t care how hard I trained in the Dojo. It was more important to him that I was a good person outside the Dojo, out in the world. Life is evolution. I become the greater-than version of myself, regardless of where I started, regardless of my zero.
My zero was as the little boy scared as hell of Dad. Whatever, I did or didn’t only made him so angry at me. I was never good enough for Dad. I never would be. I would never be good enough for anyone else, especially me. When I was 14 years old, I was the short fat ugly nerd. No pretty girl would ever like me, much less look at me. I thought that I was a fucking loser. Consequently, I spent much of my adult life proving that I wasn’t a loser, that I was good enough to be loved.
After graduate school, I moved to Los Angeles for my career in satellite systems engineering. I met the late Mizukami Sensei, who taught me Aikido. Sensei said, “Just train. It’s not like you have to get somewhere.” He created the space to succeed, fail, and grow from both. For the first time in my life, I was good enough just being me.
Mizukami Sensei taught Ishibashi Sensei and me. Now, Ishibashi Sensei is my Sensei, my big brother. Sensei said, “The purpose of Aikido is to release your fear.” He said, “The safest place to be is under the attack, in the danger.” The 250-pound man punches to my face. I wait it out. I enter the attack, enter the danger. If I defend, I can be defeated. I apply nikkyo (wristlock) to myself and match the punch with yoko-iriminage (strike to the side of the head) to the attacker. I choose to let the attacker pass or end the attack. The attacker chooses to take the fall or get struck in the head. We both choose. We can reinvent ourselves, too. We both evolve. I enter the attack, enter what I fear, and let go of my fear inside that I’m not good enough. Although that fear inside me never completely disappears, every time I enter what I fear I let go more of my fear inside. I free me. I evolve.
I work with my therapist Lance Miller to heal my childhood trauma and depression. I enter my fear that I’m never good enough, my fear of Dad as a little boy. I don’t forgive Dad for scaring me to my soul. I got that as bad as it was for me as little boy, Dad suffered far worse from his Dad. The sad legacy of abusive fathers. Dad only repeated what his Dad had done to him. He didn’t know any better. I had compassion for what it was like to be Dad.
I don’t forgive Dad for his cruelty and unkindness to Mom, my sister Carol, and me. I forgave him for being afraid, for not knowing how to be a father or husband; for being imperfectly human. I forgave myself for not being strong enough to stand up to Dad and protect Mom. I forgive myself for being imperfectly human, too. I love myself for who I am and forgive myself for who I’m not. I move on. I evolve.
In my experience with women and dating on Match dot com, I’m not what women want. I’m 5’ 3”. I’m not handsome. I’m not exactly rich. I let go of my fear inside that I’m not good enough for women over, and over, and over, and over again. There is always someone better than I am. That’s just life. I have nothing to with what goes on inside someone else. I have a say in what goes on inside me. Everything I need is already inside me. I’m quiet inside.
Will I fall madly and deeply in love with some woman, who will love me back the same? Who knows, lightening could strike? I keep my heart open. My heart is true – magokoro. I work on myself, not on others. That’s all I can do. I evolve. Life evolves, too.
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Photo by Katrina Wright on Unsplash
