In our Aikido Seminar, Hanshi taught kaeshi-waza. Kaeshi-waza is the counter to the opponent’s technique, whereby they are thrown instead of you.
The uke, the one taking the falls, held Hanshi’s right hand in nikkyo (wristlock). Hanshi said, “If you want to be free, move to where you’re free.” Although the uke had his hand, Hanshi said that his elbow is free. His shoulders are free. His hips are free.
Hanshi dropped his elbow and moved his hips. He applied nikkyo to himself and matched the uke’s attack with yoko-iriminage (strike to the side of the head). The uke had to take the fall. Hanshi didn’t oppose the technique, didn’t oppose the attack. He moved to where he was free. He moved to where he had a choice. That was not only meant for Aikido, but for life. I teared up.
When we trained with the bokuto (wooden sword), Hanshi said, “If you stop, you die. You have to keep moving.” That’s bushido, the way of the samurai. I don’t oppose. I don’t aggress. If I defend, I can be defeated. I enter the attack and die with honor. I enter what I fear. I move to where I’m free.
When I was 8 years old, Dad scared me to my very soul. Whatever I did or didn’t do only made him so angry at me. I never knew which. I was Dad’s greatest disappointment in life. Childhood was my no-win scenario. I would never be good enough for Dad. I would never be good enough for anyone, especially me. Childhood was like having nikkyo applied to my heart. I was not free.
I trained in Aikido for 25 years with the late Mizukami Sensei until he passed away. After 35 years, I’m Godan (5th degree black belt), because of Sensei. When I started Aikido, Sensei quickly got that I had to prove myself. Prove that I was good enough. He said, “Just train.” He created the space for me to succeed, to fail, and grow from both. For the first time in my life, I was free. Being me was good enough.
In Aikido practice, Mizukami Sensei said, “Wait it out. Enter the attack. Take a glancing blow if you have to. You’re not always going to get away scot-free. It’s one time.” Whether the 250-pound man punches to my face or life strikes hard, I take the glancing blows for what is meaning to me.
Now, Ishibashi Sensei is my Sensei. Mizukami Sensei taught both of us. Ishibashi Sensei said, “The safest place to the under the attack, in the danger.” Sensei said, “The purpose of Aikido is to release your fear.”
The 250-pound man punches to my face. I wait it out. I enter the attack and die with honor. I apply nikkyo to myself, not to the attacker. I match the attack with yoko-iriminage (strike to the side of the attacker’s head). I choose to let the attack pass or end the attack. The attacker chooses to take the fall or stand down from his attack. I could win or lose. The attacker could win or lose. We both choose.
Every time, I enter the attack, enter what I fear, I let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough. Although my fear inside never completely disappears, I let go more and more of my fear. I move to where I’m free.
I move into my fear of never being good enough for Dad with my therapist Miller to heal my childhood trauma and depression. I do what the late Mizukami Sensei and Ishibashi Sensei taught me. I go into the danger. Go into what I fear. I take the glancing blows. I forgive Dad for not knowing how to be a father, for being afraid inside, and for being imperfectly human. I forgive myself for not being strong enough as a little boy 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 to where I’m free.
I keep moving. Move to where I’m free. I work on myself, not on others. That’s all can do. That’s all that we can do. I let go my fear inside that I’m not good enough over, and over, and over again. I free me. I’m the only one who can. Just train.
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Photo by Steven Erixon on Unsplash
