From Sensei: "The following is a quote from Taisen Deshimaru, a Zen Master. Please read and discuss."
"Sometimes people ask why I bow in front of the statue of the Buddha in the dojo. I am not bowing to a piece of wood, I am bowing to everyone there with me in the dojo, and to the whole cosmos as well. All these gestures are extremely important because they help us to acquire correct behavior. They develop dignity and respect, they help to create a normal condition in us. Nobody today is normal, everybody is a little bit crazy or unbalanced, people's minds are running all the time. Their perceptions of the world are partial, incomplete. They are eaten alive by their egos. They think they see, but they are mistaken; all they do is project their madness, their world, upon the world. There is no clarity, no wisdom in that! That is why Socrates, like the Buddha, like every wise man ever, began his teaching with "Know thyself, and thou shalt know the universe." That is the spirit of traditional Zen and Bushido; and in studying that spirit, it is very important to observe one's behavior. Behavior influences consciousness. Right behavior means right consciousness. Our attitude here and now influences the entire environment; our words, actions, ways of holding and moving ourselves, they all influence what happens around us and inside us. The actions of every instant, every day, must be right. Our behavior in the dojo will help to condition our everyday life."
-Taisen Deshimaru
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
Yarn by Betsy Heistand
Yarn is sold in skeins or balls. Skeins are those cool looking twisty things.
I spin wool into yarn on my spinning wheel. It ends up on a large bobbin. Then I make these large skeins using my niddy noddy (yep. that's what it's called).
I dye the large batch of yarn first so I get consistent colors for more than one skein. The yarn pictured got rewound into 200yd skeins.
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Betsy's hand made yarn is available at http://www.betsyply.etsy.com
I spin wool into yarn on my spinning wheel. It ends up on a large bobbin. Then I make these large skeins using my niddy noddy (yep. that's what it's called).
I dye the large batch of yarn first so I get consistent colors for more than one skein. The yarn pictured got rewound into 200yd skeins.
.jpg)
.jpg)
Betsy's hand made yarn is available at http://www.betsyply.etsy.com
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
A Different Way of Knowing
by Jenny Coletti
I spent much of my first year training Aikido with my mind something like this: “Don’t pull, stay centered, bend my knees, keep my back straight, stretch my back more, keep my hands in front of me, keep my hands open, keep my mouth closed, step forward, no- step backward, tenkan, wait-what is tenkan?, toes down, toes flexed, relax my shoulders, bend my elbow, keep the grip, roll, fall, move my hips, let go, don’t let go, remember to breathe!” I thought that if I could just remember all these things all the time, I would begin to learn Aikido. I thought I was paying such close attention to all the details, but I was allowing myself to become lost in them. My attention was far from clear or focused, it was scattered and distracted.
And then I found out that I was to be tested for 5th kyu. I wondered how I could remember all these things for all the techniques I would be tested for and it seemed overwhelming. Somewhere in the process of preparing for my test, my mind couldn’t take in any more details. I felt overloaded. I found that I couldn’t appreciate each moment and movement in a technique with my mind always anticipating, yelling, and demanding. My mind had distracted me away from the techniques, not toward a better understanding of them. I needed to begin to feel the techniques and to allow my body to move unobstructed by my overactive mind. It was a revelation for me and I felt a shift in my practice.
Preparing for my 5th kyu test gave me an opportunity to stop thinking and let go of my disquiet mind. I was practicing each technique over and over again until I finally allowed myself to feel the energy and movement through my body. It was freeing. I felt unencumbered when I finally let go of the never-ending dialogue and checklists my mind had been reciting. I realized that my intention and spirit had been hindered by my distracted mind and that I was always hesitating and wavering.
As I continue my Aikido practice after the test, I struggle to remember to keep my mind still and my awareness more focused. It’s easy to fall back into that mental dialogue, but I am getting better about quieting it. I try to approach each class with a clear intention to concentrate on one detail that I really want to work on and not get bogged down by all of them. It is a different way of knowing and of being, but I am trying to learn more with my body and less with my mind, to rely on awareness and attention and not memorization and details. Instead of thinking my way through Aikido, I am slowly trying to find my own way by experiencing it.
Monday, April 13, 2009
No Body, No Face
by Annie Hsu
After ichimando a few weeks ago, Sensei asked the women who practiced that day what we thought of misogi, given that he's heard people criticize it as being “overly masculine”. Sensei's question took me by surprise because I had never thought about it in such terms.
While contemplating the question, instead of reaching any answers about misogi, thoughts about my job invaded. I find that one of most frustrating aspects of being a lawyer is convincing people that I actually am one. Once, after helping someone through their legal issues, I gave him one of my business cards. He looked at it, laughed, and said, “You're a lawyer?” Attorneys more often refer to me as “the young lady” on the record rather than how I refer to them, as opposing counsel (although I am tempted to use “old man”). In my office, the younger female attorneys are routinely the subject of letters written to our Director from older male attorneys complaining how we refuse to bend to their will. The younger male attorneys are never the subjects of these letters. These instances often throw me into a seething frustration, leaving me wondering if it's my age, gender, or ethnicity (or the entire magical trio) that engender such reactions.
Given the reign this magical trio has over other people’s perceptions of me and the amount of energy I’ve spent attempting to neutralize these perceptions, Sensei's question brought to light that I've never had to think about my identity at the dojo. All members of the dojo, regardless of age, gender, size or ethnicity, are expected to clean, cook, train with each other, sit in seiza until our feet are purple, bow to each other, and chant with all of our might. Women aren't expected to practice with less intensity or strength (and certainly won't be spared from getting smashed and choked), and men are expected to cook and clean. Sensei's standards for us, and, consequently, our standards for each other, are the same for each member. Because Sensei expects all from everyone, I've never thought to define our practice in terms of femininity or masculinity.
What I find so intriguing (and difficult) about practicing aikido and misogi is that we must be strong, but also relaxed, soft and aware. We must be what is stereotypically described as “masculine” and “feminine” simultaneously and without thought. When both the “feminine” and the “masculine” blend into one movement, one technique, where does the feminine end and the masculine begin? One day, while practicing sitting kokyuho with Brent, he mused that although he was trying to be as soft as possible and I was using as much muscle as possible, he was able to push me over repeatedly while I was attempting to apply the technique. The soft strength for which we strive is beyond masculinity and femininity, but, rather, is the result of the constant work of learning our bodies and polishing our technique.
Sensei teaches us to lose something every time we practice. Often I've wished I could go through life without a body, without a face. Aikido has given me exactly that – while on the mat, it has allowed me to shed the reactions to my identity and practice free from the limits that attempt to bind me in too many other aspects of my life.
After ichimando a few weeks ago, Sensei asked the women who practiced that day what we thought of misogi, given that he's heard people criticize it as being “overly masculine”. Sensei's question took me by surprise because I had never thought about it in such terms.
While contemplating the question, instead of reaching any answers about misogi, thoughts about my job invaded. I find that one of most frustrating aspects of being a lawyer is convincing people that I actually am one. Once, after helping someone through their legal issues, I gave him one of my business cards. He looked at it, laughed, and said, “You're a lawyer?” Attorneys more often refer to me as “the young lady” on the record rather than how I refer to them, as opposing counsel (although I am tempted to use “old man”). In my office, the younger female attorneys are routinely the subject of letters written to our Director from older male attorneys complaining how we refuse to bend to their will. The younger male attorneys are never the subjects of these letters. These instances often throw me into a seething frustration, leaving me wondering if it's my age, gender, or ethnicity (or the entire magical trio) that engender such reactions.
Given the reign this magical trio has over other people’s perceptions of me and the amount of energy I’ve spent attempting to neutralize these perceptions, Sensei's question brought to light that I've never had to think about my identity at the dojo. All members of the dojo, regardless of age, gender, size or ethnicity, are expected to clean, cook, train with each other, sit in seiza until our feet are purple, bow to each other, and chant with all of our might. Women aren't expected to practice with less intensity or strength (and certainly won't be spared from getting smashed and choked), and men are expected to cook and clean. Sensei's standards for us, and, consequently, our standards for each other, are the same for each member. Because Sensei expects all from everyone, I've never thought to define our practice in terms of femininity or masculinity.
What I find so intriguing (and difficult) about practicing aikido and misogi is that we must be strong, but also relaxed, soft and aware. We must be what is stereotypically described as “masculine” and “feminine” simultaneously and without thought. When both the “feminine” and the “masculine” blend into one movement, one technique, where does the feminine end and the masculine begin? One day, while practicing sitting kokyuho with Brent, he mused that although he was trying to be as soft as possible and I was using as much muscle as possible, he was able to push me over repeatedly while I was attempting to apply the technique. The soft strength for which we strive is beyond masculinity and femininity, but, rather, is the result of the constant work of learning our bodies and polishing our technique.
Sensei teaches us to lose something every time we practice. Often I've wished I could go through life without a body, without a face. Aikido has given me exactly that – while on the mat, it has allowed me to shed the reactions to my identity and practice free from the limits that attempt to bind me in too many other aspects of my life.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Training Outside the Dojo
by Kodjo Pleune
The word aikido can be roughly translated as "the way of harmonious spirit." In aikido you learn how to take your opponent's force and use it against him. You don't fight force with force. The most basic situation I can think of is if someone is trying to push you to the floor, and instead of pushing back you move out of the way and let them fall. In essence, you let your opponent do most of the work for you. This doesn't apply only to physical situations, though. I have come to realize that aikido is not just about physical training but mental training as well. You can use the same principles to deal with any situation.
One of the core teachings of aikido is to stay relaxed, both mentally and physically. When something is really not going well, our natural reaction is to get angry and fight it. I find that getting angry doesn’t help me find a solution to a problem. What I try to do is take a few deep breaths and let the anger subside then approach the situation with a clear mind and more often then not I'll find a solution to the problem in itself. Once I started to keep that in the forefront of my mind, I was able to apply the principles of aikido to anything, from twisting my hips when throwing or hitting a ball, to diffusing a tense situation between friends and even strangers. That's not to say I'm relaxed all the time, but certainly more than I use to be.
If you can stay relaxed and focused you can deal with anything. This is something for me to strive for in my day-to-day life. And hopefully one day I'll truly be centered.
The word aikido can be roughly translated as "the way of harmonious spirit." In aikido you learn how to take your opponent's force and use it against him. You don't fight force with force. The most basic situation I can think of is if someone is trying to push you to the floor, and instead of pushing back you move out of the way and let them fall. In essence, you let your opponent do most of the work for you. This doesn't apply only to physical situations, though. I have come to realize that aikido is not just about physical training but mental training as well. You can use the same principles to deal with any situation.
One of the core teachings of aikido is to stay relaxed, both mentally and physically. When something is really not going well, our natural reaction is to get angry and fight it. I find that getting angry doesn’t help me find a solution to a problem. What I try to do is take a few deep breaths and let the anger subside then approach the situation with a clear mind and more often then not I'll find a solution to the problem in itself. Once I started to keep that in the forefront of my mind, I was able to apply the principles of aikido to anything, from twisting my hips when throwing or hitting a ball, to diffusing a tense situation between friends and even strangers. That's not to say I'm relaxed all the time, but certainly more than I use to be.
If you can stay relaxed and focused you can deal with anything. This is something for me to strive for in my day-to-day life. And hopefully one day I'll truly be centered.
Friday, March 27, 2009
A Thousand Arms and Eyes
by Giun Kendo
A bit ago, I had a chance to spend a week as a guest at Brooklyn Aikikai. It was my first time to visit the dojo and my first time to do aikido. I was quite impressed by the dojo -- most specifically by the energy and positivity of the community. I am very gratefully to have been so warmly, thoroughly, and immediately welcomed into the midst of such a vibrant and inspiring practice community. Thank you all!
As it happens, while I was staying at the dojo, I received an unsolicited and uncharacteristic e-mail from my brother, in which he asked point-blank: "What do you think the point of your life is now?" In part, I told him that I imagined myself to be engaged in an effort to learn how to live a good human life -- and to put it into practice. And this is one of my strongest impressions about the dojo. I left the City thinking that Brooklyn Aikikai offers a positive and invigorating example of how one might live a good human life, and the value of such an example is not to be lightly dismissed. I tend to think that mainstream American society often does a lousy job of guiding people in the direction of a good human life -- a meaningful life; a dignified life; a beautiful life; a sacred life. Frankly, many, many modern Americans are utterly adrift and have no sound understanding of how to live…and, in the midst of this, the dojo offers an example of how life can be.
To further this stream of thought just slightly, one might say that the ideal of Mahayana Buddhism is the bodhisattva -- a being who vows to be reborn again and again and again in the cycle of suffering until all sentient beings have been liberated. Probably the most well-known bodhisattva in Buddhist mythology is Kanzeon (or Kannon or Quan Yin or Avalokiteshvara). Kanzeon is the bodhisattva of compassion and is often depicted with a thousand eyes and a thousand arms. These symbolize Kanzeon's ability to perceive all the suffering of all the beings in the universe and to respond compassionately to each situation with just what is needed. So, since I received my brother's big question, I have been thinking about what it means to look at the state of the world around us, identify what is most needed, and respond accordingly. And I have been thinking that Brooklyn Aikikai responds to the needs of the present world in a few critical ways.
The dojo offers training in discipline and self-control. Somewhere along the way, our culture seems to have forgotten that discipline need not be a negative term, and that, in fact, well-disciplined people are happier than those with poor self-control.
The dojo offers physical, visceral, concrete training to a world that has become dangerously abstract -- and in which many have largely lost touch with their physical bodies. This physical, concrete practice does wonders to re-unify one's mind and body -- to foster a healthy integrity between one's physical, mental, and spiritual sides.
And, perhaps this is a harder term to pin down, but I feel it is important. The dojo teaches its students to carry themselves and to treat each other with dignity. To behave in accord with a conviction that human life is meaningful and valuable. Indeed, sacred. And that human action matters. This, too, I am afraid is often lacking in our era, but it is of boundless importance.
So, that's my reflection. And it circles around again to end on a note of gratitude. I know that Brooklyn Aikikai in the form that I witnessed it would not be possible without the dedicated effort of many, many people, and I wish to express my thanks and respect to all those of you who have put your energy into building and nurturing this dojo. You've created something truly admirable, and I only hope that you will charge forward…optimistically, intelligently, diligently. And if the situation permits, I hope I will be able to join your Way and your community again.
A bit ago, I had a chance to spend a week as a guest at Brooklyn Aikikai. It was my first time to visit the dojo and my first time to do aikido. I was quite impressed by the dojo -- most specifically by the energy and positivity of the community. I am very gratefully to have been so warmly, thoroughly, and immediately welcomed into the midst of such a vibrant and inspiring practice community. Thank you all!
As it happens, while I was staying at the dojo, I received an unsolicited and uncharacteristic e-mail from my brother, in which he asked point-blank: "What do you think the point of your life is now?" In part, I told him that I imagined myself to be engaged in an effort to learn how to live a good human life -- and to put it into practice. And this is one of my strongest impressions about the dojo. I left the City thinking that Brooklyn Aikikai offers a positive and invigorating example of how one might live a good human life, and the value of such an example is not to be lightly dismissed. I tend to think that mainstream American society often does a lousy job of guiding people in the direction of a good human life -- a meaningful life; a dignified life; a beautiful life; a sacred life. Frankly, many, many modern Americans are utterly adrift and have no sound understanding of how to live…and, in the midst of this, the dojo offers an example of how life can be.
To further this stream of thought just slightly, one might say that the ideal of Mahayana Buddhism is the bodhisattva -- a being who vows to be reborn again and again and again in the cycle of suffering until all sentient beings have been liberated. Probably the most well-known bodhisattva in Buddhist mythology is Kanzeon (or Kannon or Quan Yin or Avalokiteshvara). Kanzeon is the bodhisattva of compassion and is often depicted with a thousand eyes and a thousand arms. These symbolize Kanzeon's ability to perceive all the suffering of all the beings in the universe and to respond compassionately to each situation with just what is needed. So, since I received my brother's big question, I have been thinking about what it means to look at the state of the world around us, identify what is most needed, and respond accordingly. And I have been thinking that Brooklyn Aikikai responds to the needs of the present world in a few critical ways.
The dojo offers training in discipline and self-control. Somewhere along the way, our culture seems to have forgotten that discipline need not be a negative term, and that, in fact, well-disciplined people are happier than those with poor self-control.
The dojo offers physical, visceral, concrete training to a world that has become dangerously abstract -- and in which many have largely lost touch with their physical bodies. This physical, concrete practice does wonders to re-unify one's mind and body -- to foster a healthy integrity between one's physical, mental, and spiritual sides.
And, perhaps this is a harder term to pin down, but I feel it is important. The dojo teaches its students to carry themselves and to treat each other with dignity. To behave in accord with a conviction that human life is meaningful and valuable. Indeed, sacred. And that human action matters. This, too, I am afraid is often lacking in our era, but it is of boundless importance.
So, that's my reflection. And it circles around again to end on a note of gratitude. I know that Brooklyn Aikikai in the form that I witnessed it would not be possible without the dedicated effort of many, many people, and I wish to express my thanks and respect to all those of you who have put your energy into building and nurturing this dojo. You've created something truly admirable, and I only hope that you will charge forward…optimistically, intelligently, diligently. And if the situation permits, I hope I will be able to join your Way and your community again.
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