Marc's Blog

I've just passed my Aikidō exam to 3rd Kyu.

Aikidō, in case you don't know, is a traditional Japenese martial art with a strong focus on defensive manoeuvres. In aikidō there are many lever and throwing techniques, as well as various weapon techniques with the staff (jo) and sword (ken). However, there are not much punching or kicking techniques in the curriculum, as there are in other martial arts. But of course, in order to practice your techniques, you need a training partner (uke) to attack you.

I've been practising for over six years now (I started in my late 30s), with a few longer breaks in between due to the pandemic and a few other reasons. If I keep up with my current training schedule, I could probably achieve the 1st Dan (black belt) in 1.5 years. But that's not to brag, just want to give some context. I'm still a long way from considering myself good, because there's still so incredibly much to learn and practice, even after all these years.

The reason I'm writing this text is because my attitude to this sport has changed considerably in the last year, and I think there are some lessons worth sharing that can be applied to other areas of life.

Why I started Aikidō

Over six years ago, I did not consider myself a fighter, let alone a martial artist. I'd tried various sports over the years, but never dipped my toe into martial arts. When one of my former mentors asked me to give it a try.

As I didn't know what to choose I checked out this list of martial arts and read about the differences, history and defining values of each, and my choice was to start with aikidō. I found a dojo nearby and signed up for a trial session.

The first training session was completely overwhelming. I felt like I had to learn how to walk again. It was a whole new world of movement and details to pay attention to. It was much worse than my first dance lesson.

After the first day it was clear to me that a week's trial training was not enough to judge whether or not this was a sport I wanted to continue. So I made an agreement with myself that I would train for at least six months and then re-evaluate if I wanted to stick with it or not.

Aside from the fighting aspect, I quickly learnt that it is a sport that develops mobility and body control enormously. You have to move your body very precisely, especially for all the lever techniques. And the mobility was something that I sorely needed at the time, as it provided a good balance to my desk job.

After half a year I saw the benefits of going regularly and I was actually having a lot of fun with the weapon techniques. So I decided to continue.

Why I almost gave up

There is a warm-up routine before each training session and one of the exercises is to do a forward roll from a standing position. You bend one arm forward with the fingers pointing towards you, so your upper body is curved, you bend down and then roll over your arm, your shoulder and your back and then stand up again. If you want to know what it looks like, this technique is called Mae Ukemi and here is an example video.

This is important to learn for aikidō because you will be throwing others and being thrown a lot. So part of the training is to learn how to fall correctly in order to avoid injury, and forward rolls are just a part of that.

After many years of training, I still had trouble rolling over my right shoulder. The left side worked fine, but the right just didn't. Either I'd fall on my side, or I'd lose my balance and stumbled, or I'd bang my shoulder on the floor. Repeatedly. So I would regularly get shoulder joint contusions that would hurt for weeks and impede my training.

One of the consequences of all this shoulder pain was that, over time, it caused emotional resistance to build up out of fear for more injuries. This led me to find excuses not to go to training or to go later and skip the warm-up. But I knew that wouldn't solve the problem, or even cause other problems in the end, especially since the forward roll is also required for more advanced techniques. Well, nowadays I know an avoidance tactic when I see one. (And my sensei saw it too and called me out on it.)

So I went to the training and my sensei tried all he could. We tried a lot of different approaches, and he taught a lot of details to look out for, but I was stuck on that particular plateau. Hearing him say, that aikidō only really starts to be fun when the fear of falling turns into the joy of flying, didn't make it any easier. Even though I wanted to believe it. ;–)

A year ago we got some new dojo members who also had their problems with the forward rolls and falling exercises as beginners.

Then my sensei had an idea and tried something different. He put cushions on the floor and said we should try to do the forward roll over the cushions without touching them. In my mind this immediately made the exercise more difficult as there was now an additional obstacle. Didn't I have enough trouble on my own?

But the funny thing is that it ended up being easier. Because now I had to bend my torso further forward and use a bit more speed. That automatically made me change my posture and my movement a bit. And now the forward rolls were working. Left and right. Well, still not as good on the right side as I wanted it to be, but I was finally experiencing a change in my body movement. I got through that wall and felt like I was making progress after years of being stuck in this exercise. It was such a relief!

After that, I also met with others and took extra time to practice this more deeply, where I finally found out what my initial mistake was. (I needed to push my arm away from the floor more to keep it from folding.)

So, the first lesson here is that if you've been stuck on something for a long time and you've tried everything you can think of, keep trying, but also try to get a different perspective. Try something new. Try to look at it from a different angle. You don't know what or when, but in the end, I promise you, you will get out of that place where you've been stuck for so long.

And don't let any fear stop you from trying again. And again. And again.

The path to mastery

Now coming back to my changed attitude to aikidō. I said that my initial motivation was the benefit of mobility and body control. While still helpful, this is no longer my main motivation.

Seeing my sensei achieving his 6th Dan after 32 years of Aikidō left me thinking. This is a level of dedication that not many people pursue. But this level of dedication over such a long time is necessary to become really, really good at something. To become a master. And still wanting to get better and keep on learning.

This year I've passed two exams, 4th Kyu in the spring and 3rd Kyu today. Each time, the exam was preceded by 2-3 months of intensive training. Including extra training outside the official training times, because there was so much to practice. And to experience that the training has paid off in the end is a great sense of achievement.

This is the absolute opposite of today's dopamine-addicted world, where instant gratification is all that counts.

It is not my goal to surpass my teacher in the next 30 years. I simply started too late for that. But I am slowly getting a taste of what it means to walk this path.

And I'm asking myself the question: What do I want to master in this life?

There are several paths I have taken in the past besides aikidō, such as making music, software engineering or personal development, for example. Some of them for more than three decades now.

Which paths have you taken? Was it a conscious decision or did it just happen? Or worse, did someone else choose your path? Do you need to stop some paths in order to focus more on others?

These are important questions, and your path doesn't necessarily have to become your profession. Another important part of being a master is teaching. One way to find out if you are on a path to mastery is to realise if you are already teaching others.

To sum it up, my motivation changed to staying on the path of aikidō for the sole purpose of being on this path. Without knowing where it will lead me.

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This work by Marc Riese is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0