The Safest Place To Be

In Sunday morning Aikido practice, we trained with the bokken (wooden sword). In Aikido, whether with the bokken or in tachiwaza (empty hand technique), I match up with the attack in my attack, awase. Hanshi said, “When you defend, you can be defeated.” That’s the training. Amen.

In the bokken attack, I wait it out – the mindset that the late Mizukami Sensei had ingrained in me over the years. I take a glancing blow, if I have to. Whether it’s the bokken strike or punch to my head.

Ishibashi Sensei instructed to wait it out, stand in profile, then strike from under the attack. He said, “The safest place to be is under the attack.” The safest place to be is under the sword about to hit my head? WTF.

I wait it out, until the bokken strikes within a few inches from my head. I strike from under the attack. My bokken moves before my body moves. My sword, my mind leads my body.

In waiting it out, the attacker commits in his action. He has no recourse. I strike from under the attack. I strike first. It’s one time. Maybe, I take a glancing blow. Still, I end the attack.

The wise French Sensei said, “Enter the attack and die with honor.” I enter the danger. I enter what I fear. My body fears; it hesitates knowing the possible harm at bay. I train my mind to be the sword: I enter what I fear. Zanshin.

I enter the I fear. I could win or I could lose. I’m authentic as I can be. I’m present. I reconcile in the aftermath.

The safest place to be is under the sword. The safest place to be is under the attack. That distinction can apply beyond the Dojo, where it counts more. Under the attack, when I enter what I fear, I’m the safest. I’m free. I have nothing to prove. No pretense. No bullshit.

As a boy growing up at home, I feared almost every day. I feared Dad, who was always so angry. I was never going to be enough for him. Really, I feared that I would never be enough, ever. Back then, maybe instead of running from my fear, I could have stood under it.

Don’t like ads? Become a supporter and enjoy The Good Men Project ad free

The safest place to be is under the sword, under my fear. Again, I was 8 years old. In the bigger picture, I forgive my younger self. I did the best that I could at the time. I was even braver than I remembered.

The sword that strikes in life doesn’t have to be so mighty or so dire.

***

At work, I had to release a Requirement Specification for an important program milestone. I worked with my Program Manager John to generate the Requirements Spec. I conducted the stakeholder reviews, adjudicated comments, and created revisions and corrections for the Requirements Document Model. I had learned from my previous document failure.

I gave John my input. He generated the pristine Requirements Specification that we would present at the Configuration Management Board for approval.

The specification looked great. While reviewing the generated draft, I noticed that a number of requirements were missing. Initially, I thought, “I fucked up. I’m fucked.” That was my 8-year old’s fearful voice when I disappointed Dad. Yet, I was no longer 8 years old anymore.

I got under my fear. I called and emailed John about the missing requirements. He messaged back that he eliminated those requirements because they belonged in another Requirements Specification. We were good to go for the Configuration Management Board the next day. No big deal.

Still, I was so satisfied. I entered what I feared. No, it wasn’t a matter of life or death. Yet, I had entered what I feared, and I was safe. I didn’t run from my fear. I got under it.

Sometimes, the past is funny. What I feared wasn’t in the moment, in the present. I feared as the frightened 8-year-old boy, who disappointed his dad. The safest place to be was under the sword, being with my fear. The safest place is being present in the now.

Heaven is right where I stand, so I really have nothing to prove. Just saying. Amen. Amen.