Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch . . .

So, I’m sitting here wondering what to write about. I’ve had a few ideas since I heard about the newsletter coming out, but nothing stellar. I think I will do a stream-of-consciousness thing, per Sensei’s directives, and see what comes out.

I’d like to tell everyone that I am really sorry for missing so many classes this summer. In case not everyone knows, my wife, Megan, and I found out that she was pregnant with our second child around the end of June, but she miscarried 10 days after we found out. It was emotionally very difficult, but it was also physically difficult for her since we followed her doctor’s recommendation and opted to avoid surgery and let the miscarriage finish naturally. This meant my wife was supposed to take it very easy during this time, so I stayed home to take care of her and our son, Owen. This was only supposed to take a week or so, but after three weeks with Megan experiencing the same symptoms as at the start of the miscarriage, we figured something was wrong. We went back to the doctor, who recommended exploratory surgery. Megan went in for surgery two days later, and after the surgery, the doctor told us that it was a good thing that we had come in because the pregnancy had been ectopic, which means that the baby was growing in the wrong place, and had it gone on much longer Megan would have been in severe physical danger. The doctor told us that Megan would be okay since the surgery fully terminated the pregnancy. This was also emotionally difficult since it almost felt like we lost the baby a second time. In addition, Megan had another three weeks of recuperation. I stayed home from work for the first two weeks, but we had a baby-sitter come in for a week so that I could get back to work. This really helped us out since I had several weeks of backlogged work that I had to plow through, and that meant working evenings for a while. Anyway, that’s why I missed so much class.

One thing that I have noticed after being back for a while is how much class now seems like class at our old school, Aikido-Kai San Shin Kan. We have a pretty regular group of seniors plus a lot of new students. Sensei is back teaching regularly, and a lot of the things we are working on are things that we haven’t worked on much for quite a while. I also very much like having our own space again. I don’t like the new space as much as the San Shin Kan space (I liked the higher ceilings, larger space and cleaner air of the old dojo), but it’s quieter and more convenient for people coming to visit us. Plus, the air conditioning is nice in the summer.

I think the new mats are working out really well, although I wish it were easier to keep the vinyl looking clean. I hope that we can finish the last of the mats soon. I’ve been thinking it would be nice to put in a shoe rack and maybe a small table at the front to keep the shoes and paperwork a little more organized in the “visitors” area, but that should wait until after we finish the last of the mats. I’ve also been thinking it would be nice to put a small shelf in the bathroom for water cups, and I may look into that in the next week or two.

Another thing I’ve noticed is how well everyone seems to be doing. I know that attendance is erratic, but it has been that way since I started. I also know that getting people to class on time is a challenge, but I think I have the worst record in that regard, so I’m not casting any stones. I know that people are still having trouble with basic techniques, but again, that’s always been the case. The one thing I do know is that we all seem to be practicing good Aikido. By that I mean that we all have some shared idea of what “good Aikido” is, and that we seem to be trying to do it. And based on my experience at seminars and other schools, this doesn’t seem to be a universal practice among Aikido students.

I noticed at the seminar up in Loveland that there are a lot of people up there who have been “practicing Aikido” for a long time, but they’re not very good. They can do a lot of Aikido-like movements, but when you work with them it doesn’t feel particularly like Aikido as I have come to understand it. When you get the chance to practice with Sensei or other senior teachers like Isoyama Sensei, Saito Sensei, Saotome Sensei and Ikeda Sensei, their Aikido looks and feels a certain way that is similar among all of them. I consider their Aikido as “good” (sometimes great) Aikido, and I think it’s what we are trying to do. But at Loveland, when you work with the students doing their Aikido, I often don’t get the general sense that they can or are even trying to do, good Aikido. I don’t mean to say that we’re better than them. If anything, I am surprised when I meet someone who has practiced Aikido for a long time who isn’t very good. I know that many senior instructors are available who either studied with O-Sensei or who studied with someone who studied with O-Sensei, so it seems like the knowledge is out there, but for some reason that knowledge isn’t filtering down to the latest generations.

I really think we are incredibly lucky to have Sensei to teach us, since he has the intent of practicing Aikido the way that O-Sensei taught it. It surprises me that this is so rare, particularly given how many Aikido students idolize O-Sensei and how much time they put into traveling to Aikido seminars, attending Aikido camps, and talking and writing about Aikido. A lot of these people remind me of the definition of a fanatic: Someone who redoubles their effort after they lose their way. I really don’t know what to think of all this even after experiencing it for a long time, but I’m just glad that we have Sensei and a place to continue training.

— Hal Render

WHERE IS THE CLUB NOW?

Sensei suggested a great topic question: Where is the Club now? I have been chewing on that question since he suggested it a few months ago. (As you can see, I am a slow chewer.) The topic draws me into related questions: Where was the Club before? Did it move, or did I?

Since I move at the same speed and in the same direction as the surface of the Earth, I fail to notice any motion at all. Is it the same way with the Club? What differences do I notice? Are they really differences in the Club, or just differences in how I look at it? If they are just differences in how I look at it, then why did my perspective change?

I think I used to care, at least a little, about where the dojo was located. I also worried about other tangible things, such as the dues, the number of regular students, and so on. I must have perceived the Club as some combination of Sensei's personality plus those physical aspects. Now I see the Club as a group of people with a shared goal. (And I think to myself, as I write this, "for cryin' out loud, Dave, what did you think the Club was, a bunch of mats on the floor?")

Wherever the Club is now, I see it differently. I see it as a special event; more of a verb than a noun. It is sort of of a continual party about life and growing up. It is where I feel free to say the things I don't dare say at work (or even, sometimes, at home). It is a place only in the sense in which we speak of creating sacred spaces.

My mother and father created a special place — the family home. It was special, but not (sadly) not sacred. Sensei created a sacred space. He could have made a business out of this, and charged the Big Bucks. Instead, he chose to give free Aikido lessons (not the "free Aikido lessons" that Sensei Segal gives to the bad guys).

The Club has matured. (Witness the gray hair.) It's undoubtedly a good influence on me. After all, I need good role models, with a motto like mine: "I can't stop growing old, but at least I don't have to grow up!"

I am growing up; it's just hard to tell. A few years ago, I wrote a paper that started out this way:

How do I practice “do” in my daily life off the mat?

Nine years ago[1] . . . in class Sensei demonstrated how NOT to deal with an opponent: he showed how foolish it looks when you try to defend a shomen attack with another shomen attack. Don’t meet force with force, muscle with muscle, anger with anger. That’s the most incompetent way to defend yourself. I thought: What kind of moron would want to do that? Then my stomach churned as it hit me:

Holy Freakin’ HOLY! I do that at work every day. I get angry when witnesses lie. I argue. I fight with them using words as weapons. I try to “control the witness” (like they tell me to in seminars). I clash directly with other attorneys in the courtroom, like a kid throwing rocks, until the judge steps in and says to play nice. When the Public Defender hisses “prosecutorial misconduct” I reply with acid and hatred. It’s like -- oh man, oh man, oh man -- it’s exactly the same as the hour-long name-calling contest with Owen Wengert in my front yard when I was ten years old! And for cryin’ out loud, sometimes I actually say to the judge the same thing I said to Mom! “Well, he started it!!!”

Nausea. I wanted to puke my guts out. Moron!

“Go with the flow; accept uke’s energy and redirect his own energy against him.” Year after year I chewed on the same words and watched Sensei do amazing things on the mat. I wanted to handle legal attacks the way he dealt with physical ones.

It has been fourteen years since I started hanging out with Sensei and the rest of this crowd. I look back and wonder how much I have changed. The comparison is a little disappointing.

Much of my mental chatter is the same. I still don't do Ikkyo as well as Hal and Ryan did a decade ago. I did my shomen-on-shomen thing with a judge a few weeks ago, and got my head handed to me on a platter. And I still put off a certain amount of growing up.

But I do extend ki better. I do relax more. I am more centered. Keeping weight underside and maintaining one-pointedness now means more to me.

I took time off for knee surgeries, kids, and late nights at the office. Sempai trained harder and learned faster. Like Sensai, they instruct like pros. I get to "practice" with them. What a deal! They, too, give me "free Aikido lessons."

And what a great place for the bright-eyed white belts! Most of them are starting Aikido in their teens. I hope they realize how fortunate they are. They can trust that the Club will endure, although it was not always a sure bet. I no longer count heads or dollars. The dojo's location no longer matters to me (if it ever really did). I love the white mats, but hey, they're just mats. The Club is the Club.

So where is the Club now? It doesn't matter so much what you are looking at, as where you are looking from. From here, the Club appears to be in a sacred space.

— Dave Margrave

WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

We have had transitions, with people moving, getting married or starting a family, working too hard, running into health problems, or getting abused by Zoomies (if you know what I mean).

They are still with us in spirit.

Please keep in touch with our friends in Budo, and give them a call or drop them a note to remind them that they are

remembered. I have a list of names and addresses, for anyone who wants it.

— Dave Margrave

[1] (Which now is about twelve years ago.)