In the Dojo’s Aikido Seminar, Hanshi taught bokken (wooden sword) technique. I invite the bokken attack. I don’t defend against the attack. Hanshi said, “If you defend, you can be defeated.” He said that we apply Aikido on ourselves to make the mind and spirit strong. The attacker doesn’t matter.
Making the attacker retreat, moving back is the possibility of kindness. I could strike first to the head ending the attack or not. I choose. The attacker chooses to stand down or continue their attack. They choose to accept kindness or not. We both choose.
If the attacker continues their attack, I create time and space, again. I wait it out. Just before that attacker’s bokken touches my head, I strike first and end the attack. Again, I choose to give kindness or not. Again, the attacker chooses to accept kindness or not. Time and space create the possibility of kindness.
In the center of the attack, in the danger amidst the unkindness, I create the possibility of kindness, of mercy. I create the time and space for the attacker and me to choose what to do and who to be. I have nothing to do with what goes on inside someone else. I have a say in what goes on inside me. I overcome myself, not others. O-Sensei Morihei Ueshiba said, “True victory is victory over oneself.” It’s me against me. I’m my GOAT (Greatest of All-Time) opponent. I create time and space to choose. That’s budo, martial arts. That applies beyond the Dojo, too. Just saying.
Since I was 8 years old, Dad terrified me to my soul. I never knew what I did or didn’t do that made him so angry with me. I got that I wasn’t the son Dad wanted. I utterly disappointed him. I constantly worried, constantly panicked trying to make things right. Yet there was never enough time. I didn’t have the space to be me. I was not good enough for Dad. I was not good enough for me, either.
For over 25 years, the late Mizukami Sensei taught me Aikido. Sensei said, “Just train. It’s not like you have to get somewhere.” He created the space to be me, where I could invent the greater-than versions of myself. Sensei generated the time and space to succeed, to fail, and to grow from both.
Mizukami Sensei gave me time and space. He gave me kindness. He gave me love. Although Sensei is no longer on planet Earth, he still stands by my side. His kindness lives inside me. I give his kindness away to others. As part of Mizukami Sensei’s profound legacy, I give his kindness to the Aikido students I teach. I give it all away.
For 17 years Dad and I spent a week in July fishing for king and sockeye salmon in Alaska. Dad’s great love was fishing for sockeye salmon on the banks of the Kenai River. He’d patiently spend hours catching his limit of sockeye every day.
Sitting beside Dad on the fishing boat on the Kenai River, I was no longer that frightened 8-year-old who was scared as hell of him. Dad was the gentle old man who spent his life protecting and caring for his family. I was Dad’s protector now. Although he never had my back, I had his. Dad needed the time and space to be the best version of himself. I gave him kindness. I gave Dad my love.
On one of our fishing trips, Dad taught me to fish for sockeye on the Kenai River bank. He created the time and space for me to succeed, to fail, and to learn from both. Dad gave his kindness. He gave his love. I loved Dad, too.
Dad passed away a few years after we stopped fishing in Alaska. In delivering his eulogy, I said, “I like to think that Dad is fishing at his favorite spot on the Kenai River. That he’s happy. That he’s at peace. I love you, Dad.” Rest in peace, Dad.
In the bigger picture, I create time and space for those I love. They are free to be themselves, free from their own judgement and mine. I give kindness. I give love. Just saying. Amen.
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Photo credit: iStockPhoto
