At year's end

This year went by very fast. It included so many closures and new beginnings.
The main event of 2009 was the relocation of our Dojo.
The year started with negotiations with the Los Angeles School District, which filed an eminent domain for the property where our previous Dojo was located in Van Nuys. 43 businesses and 11 homes had to relocate.

The last time I passed by it looked like they were ready to demolish the building. It was strange to see the Dojo's space of the past 4 years, and my other company's place of business since 1991, as a site to be soon wiped out and be gone from the face of the earth. It was quite surreal.

In April we still didn't know where our new location will be. I remember the days go by, as I reminded myself that the new space will appear, and that I have to trust the process.
We drove around the Valley and looked at many places, gave some offers - yet nothing seemed to be our space.
Meantime, negotiating with the School District continued, and the days turned more intense.

May arrived and we decided on our space and construction started in June. The construction process felt like a long labor — our space was about to be born!
And what a beautiful place it turned out to be...

Our community in Granada Hills is growing steadily. My heart widens as I look at the people who participate in the special events, at our daily practice, the parties and the sweet relationship we build in our community.

2010 will be a year where we will touch more people, volunteer more, be more creative, and make sure that our hearts and our doors are open wide for more people who want to learn and grow!

Taking Sensei's Ukemi

The most challenging moments during my Aikido apprenticeship were while I was in the Uke role for my teacher. In the first year I was not called much for demonstrations, and felt a great hunger for it. When the moment finally arrived, I found myself doubting about my desire to be "in the fire" on a regular basis — although that was a point of no return.

First, it was a physical challenge, my body was not quite ready; I was always tired, I didn't eat right, nor was I drinking enough water. Yet, I had a great drive to experience the pressure and learn this new realm.

The next thing I had to study was how to empty my mind. Stop guessing and assuming on what's coming next. I learned to calm my internal noise, as I was called to take Ukemi. I tried different ways to prepare myself for the moment I was called up. It took months, but watching the more experienced Uke closely, and getting their advice helped greatly.

After being able to approach without assumptions, I had to work on a strong, clean attack, that derives from my center. Again, this is not the place "to be nice" and try and miss target. This just made things worst, and brought about some painful lessons. A good attack with intent, clarity and precision should be the goal.

Another lesson was about movement while in connection; being able to blend, follow, and adjust in a safe manner with the flow of the technique. I would often get "stuck", and my feet would not move. It took some time before my body learned how to relax just enough, so my legs, hips, and feet could lead the rest of the body with the flow of the technique - and not to be in its way.

"Being alive" throughout the process was essential. I had to maintain eye contact (sometimes peripheral vision) with Sensei, being ready for any shifts, and falling down in a manner that is alert and present for the next attack.

I believe that those who take Sensei's Ukemi are presented with a golden opportunity to learn in the best way possible. I was lucky enough to be able to do that for a few years. I also think that this was how I learned best. When I graduated the Kenshusei program, I felt there was still a long way to go in the path of Ukemi. I am grateful and humbled by this experience.

The thirst to deepen the study must be greater than the fear of facing ourselves.

In the video: Second Doshu, Kisshomaru Ueshiba Sensei

Autumn

Quiet.
Abruptly whistles,
Autumn wind.


Steel blue skies.
Dry leaves
rustle under each step.

A new season at Junior Blind

A year had past since I started teaching Aikido at the Junior Blind of America. It was last September when some of my students, a friend (guest from Japan) and myself, drove to the Ladera Heights area, for our first interaction with quite a special group of adults. We had no idea on what we will encounter. The students were challenged with partial and total blindness. All of them lived at the Junior Blind of America campus. By the end of the session, this Summer, they told us how they gained confidence within their bodies, how they felt more secured and balanced. They lost some of their fear of falling, and experienced less vulnerability.

A couple of months of Summer vacation passed, and tonight we started a new session, with a new group. Half a dozen enthusiastic adults started their Aikido practice. It was such a great joy to see such energy, teamwork, and a serious thirst to this new learning. I couldn't stop smiling...

Eliazaro, Maria, Marcy, Ishmael, Bret, and Louise — thank you for your courage and curiosity. I look forward to our next encounter!

Moments of hardship

The other day I was watching this short video, in which Pema Chodron, sheds light on our tendency to resolve things from the outside, rather than from within us.

It made me think how I sometimes try and control the whole world around me, and adjust things outside me and not from within. This brings me to think about injuries in my practice, and the choices made on how to handle them. An injury brings us to hardship; frustration, inconvenience, and pain.

An injury is like a rest in music. The musical piece cannot not be exist without rests. One element completes the other, and make it whole. Our training will not be complete unless we encounter moments of hardship. Injuries present us with an opportunity to make a choice on the type of rest we will take. In cases of injuries or illness, many of us choose to be off the mat. Often, I see students who choose to take a few weeks off the mat, as well as away from the Dojo.

We have to remember that there are many ways of dealing with hardship, and as Pema Chodron said, we usually choose to deal with outside adjustments rather than the internal adjustment. To face our hardship, and find ways to train our mind to work though a hardship, will bring about greater presence and many benefits.

I know a person that was injured seriously, and broke his arm, that chose to be on the mat, working on one side only, on his uninjured side. I know another person, who underwent a major surgery, that was not able be on the mat, yet physically attends the Dojo regularly and watches classes, learning through Mitori Geiko (observation practice). This inspires me.

Our hardships have a gift to give us; will we choose to cover the whole world with leather, or simply put our shoes on?

images of the new space

We completed building our new Dojo, and now we are celebrating its newness.

Photos by Roger Hoffman

Homeless bound

I had no idea on how homelessness was so close to home. I've lived in Granada Hills for almost seven years now, and drove almost daily through the busy shopping center on the Northeast corner of Balboa and San Fernando Mission Boulevards. Right in between the Jack in the Box and behind the Trader Joe's store there is an island, full of bushes. The bushes were full and quite tall, and used to be the home of some people. Yet, most of Granada Hills residents were not aware of that, and so was I.










The first time I noticed this was when I opened my Aikido school, on San Fernando Mission, and started walking to my bank across the street. As I was passing by, I heard people talking, and then saw a few chairs in between the bushes, with people on them, talking and drinking. The next time, one early morning, I noticed the sleeping bags, and even a mattress. I started seeing them walking around; we would greet each other and exchange some words. They would check out the progress on our Dojo construction, and share their opinions. One of them insisted he will bring us business, by sending his six daughters to classes.

I already got to accept my little discovery as a permanent element of the Dojo's environment, and was taking the interaction with them as opportunities to sharpen my practice of compassion and acceptance. Saying Hi every time I passed by the bushes, and exchanging smiles.









Yesterday morning I was surprised to see that all the bushes got trimmed back, exposing a naked view of the few belongings and raw lifestyle. The mattress, plastic bags, and trash, were quickly collected into a pile, and then thrown into a big garbage truck, and disappeared. The last signs of life of the bush people colony, is now a simple parking lot island, with some trimmed bushes on it.

Now I can't decide which one I like better...

Images of the path

We are featuring an exhibit of Roger Hoffmann's photography at our new Dojo, a series of five images taken in Japanese gardens.









Roger sees the progression on the path easily expressed here and this is his description to each of the images:

Practice - "You don't know what you don't know"









1. Reading, watching, thinking vs. doing.
2. Just do it.
3. Follow the class even if you don't know or understand what you are doing.
4. Lots of repetition.
5. Your mind might not get it, but your body is learning.
6. Get into a schedule.
7. Not haphazard.
8. Predictable.
9. Repetitive, risk of boredom, push through, there is so much depth to
Aikido.
10. Keep an empty mind, beginners mind.

Path - "You know what you don't know"








1. Junior kyu levels
2. Not all who practice join the path.
3. Commit to the path, the dojo, your sensei, your fellow students, your
community.
4. Understand what it means to practice in and out of the dojo.
5. There is more Aikido off the mat than on the mat.
6. Study the path, learn about the founder.
7. Learn about the art, the waza, your body.
8. Find understanding, not just knowledge.
9. Now you have a sense of the depth of Aikido and realize how much there is
to learn.
10. Don't get discouraged.

Balance - "You don't know what you know"








1. Senior kyu levels
2. Complex interplay of opposites.
3. Hard, soft, empty, full, stable, unstable, gounded, free, ura, omote, high,
low, inside, outside, work, family, life, balance, time, money, commitments.
4. The "center" of the path, the world of relative existence.
5. You will be here for a long time so get comfortable.
6. Explore the opposites but don't get stuck in them.
7. Observe but don't judge.
8. Discriminate but remain accepting.
9. You are learning a lot and might not even be aware of it.
10. When you observe and train with a new student, you will realize what you
have learned.
11. Be thankful for those ahead of you on the path and be a good sempai to
those who are joining.
12. Don't get ahead of yourself or become unbalanced.
13. Stay humble.

Integration - "You know what you know"








1. Dan level
2. Just the first step, a new beginning.
3. But now you actually know what you know.
4. However you still have not arrived (and never will).
5. A dan grade is not the final destination. It is simpy the mark of a serious
student.
6. Stay humble.
7. Be a good sempai.
8. Simplify while retaining balance.
9. Opposites start to dissolve into unity.
10. There is no more "uke" and "nage"
11. Learn how to throw yourself.
12. Learn how to develop and empty mind.

Formless - "Beyond knowing"








1. Shihan
2. There is no "you" and no mind.
3. Beyond waza
4. The journey is the destination
5. There is no practice and no path

Just before the move

Two weeks of construction are behind us. 6 tons of demolished walls, air ducts, and drop ceiling materials have been cleaned out of the space.
This is the time for the finishing processes: painting, tiling, flooring and, finally, moving in.

We are so fortunate to have so many people around us who genuinely care and connect with our Dojo.
So many donated from their time and energy. We received paint donation, labor at cost, and variety of provisions that made the construction process much shorter and cost effective than originally anticipated.

The excitement is in our hearts. Our first class at the new space will be on Monday, June 22nd. I hope many of our friends will come and help us infuse some great practice energy into our Dojo's new home.

Day 4 | floor plan demolition is done

Day 5 | AC ducts are pulled down








Day 6 | ceiling demolition is done








Day 10 | ceiling is covered








Day 11 | the sign is installed








Day 12 | at night








Day 14 | painting is done

New home

On Saturday afternoon, as I was signing the lease for our new Dojo space, I noticed that I wasn't having the feeling I usually have when signing significant agreements; the butterflies were not fluttering in my belly. It was a solid and quiet feeling, that was not accompanied with doubt.


View Larger Map

This morning, the construction process started with demolition of the present layout.
This unit used to be the headquarters of a mortgage company, with lots of cubicles, offices and a massive amount of internet and telephone wires. In the next few days these will be cleared, the drop ceiling will be removed and a large, open space will be waiting to be filled with a very different kind of work. As a very dear friend of mine wrote:
"The photo of your new dojo space is one of the most ironically wonderful things I have seen in a long time--in a collapsing economy shady organizations that sell housing loans go out of business and become dojos. Excellent!"

May this place be a home for transformation, evolution, heart-opening, learning, joy and smiles.








Day 1 | demolition

The blessing of changes

Most of my life I had great resistance to changes. So when we found out that the Los Angeles School District is planning to build an elementary school at the current Dojo location, I felt uneasy. Although we were getting information in the mail about the process, and meeting with our relocation officer, I still preferred not to think much about it.

Now, we are at one of the ending stages of the relocation process; we found a new space, we are preparing to sign a lease, and are brainstorming about the design and construction of the new Dojo. Now, we put our resistance aside, as well as the inconvenience, the fears and concerns. We ignite our creativity and sharpen our pencils, we bring about our vision and heart.

I envision a community of people of all ages; who are taking on a practice that is a source of empowerment in their lives. People who enjoy the process of learning, and willingly exchange their energy and gifts with others. I see a wider outreach within the community; a teen-power group, that besides working hard at their practice is active in volunteering, and kids who understand that "we are all in it together". Young adults and seniors who train for their well being as well as the well being of their surroundings. A community that is caring and sharing, that is aware and evolving.

This is an opportunity that was born from an unexpected change. Like in any birth there will be pains, like at any birth the change is encompassing a promise, a blessing. One that we are awaiting to embrace.

A big heart story

This is a true duck story I found in my inbox today and I just had to share it:

Michael R. is an accounting clerk at Frost Bank and works downtown in a second story Office building. Several weeks ago, he watched a mother duck choose the concrete awning outside his window as the unlikely place to build a nest above the sidewalk.

The mallard laid ten eggs in a nest in the corner of the planter that is perched over ten feet in the air. She dutifully kept the eggs warm for weeks, and Monday afternoon all of her ten ducklings hatched.















Michael worried all night how the momma duck was going to get those babies safely off their perch in a busy, downtown, urban environment to take to water, which typically happens in the first 48 hours of a duck hatching. Tuesday morning, Michael watched the mother duck encourage her babies to the edge of the perch with the intent to show them how to jump off!















The mother flew down below and started quacking to her babies above. In his disbelief Michael
Watched as the first fuzzy newborn toddled to the edge and astonishingly leaped into thin air, crashing onto the cement below. Michael couldn't stand to watch this risky effort. He dashed out of his office and ran down the stairs to the sidewalk where the first obedient duckling was stuporing near its mother from the near fatal fall.















As the second one took the plunge, Michael jumped forward and caught it with his bare hands
Before it hit the concrete. Safe and sound, he set it by the momma and the other stunned sibling,
Still recovering from its painful leap.















One by one the babies continued to jump. Each time Michael hid under the awning just to reach
out in the nick of time as the duckling made its free fall. The downtown sidewalk came to a standstill. Time after time, Michael was able to catch the remaining eight and set them by their approving mother.
















At this point Michael realized the duck family had only made part of its dangerous journey.
They had 2 full blocks to walk across traffic, crosswalks, curbs, and pedestrians to get to the
closest open water, the San Antonio River.















The on looking office secretaries and several San Antonio police officers joined in. They brought an empty copy paper box to collect the babies. They carefully corralled them, with the mother's approval, and loaded them in the container. Michael held the box low enough for the mom to see her brood. He then slowly navigated through the downtown streets toward the San Antonio River . The mother waddled behind and kept her babies in sight.















As they reached the river, the mother took over and passed him, jumping into the river and
quacking loudly. At the water's edge, he tipped the box and helped shepherd the babies toward
the water and to their mother after their adventurous ride.















All ten darling ducklings safely made it into the water and paddled up snugly to momma.
Michael said the mom swam in circles, looking back toward the beaming bank bookkeeper, and proudly quacking.















Live simply, love generously, care deeply, speak kindly.

Forty years later

Morihei Ueshiba, O'Sensei, the founder of Aikido, was a remarkable individual. A man who preceded his era, and softly crossed the square boundaries of the structured culture he was born into. He inspired others by his charismatic and enlightened way of being. He passed on April 26th, 1969, forty years ago.

Here is a small story that demonstrates his uniqueness:
A few years ago a couple of my students visited Japan, and their hometown of Iwama. The wife's family lived very close by to the Iwama Dojo, in Ibaraki perfecture. O'Sensei lived in Iwama from 1942 to the year of his passing. He built a shrine dedicated to the deities of Aikido, called Aiki Jinja (合気神社), where he was holding the daily ceremonies and prayers of his spiritual practice of the Ōmoto-kyō (大本教) religion.
My student was attending the daily classes for a while, and she volunteered to clean around the Dojo. One day she was asked to help tiding O'Sensei's office. To her surprise, she saw a calligraphy, one of many inscribed by O'Sensei, in which the Kanji were written in a shape of a circle. While in other languages this may be considered common practice (like the Arabic calligraphy), in Japanese calligraphy this is a rarety, and quite "out of the box".

O'Sensei was an eccentric man, who saw the world in a unusual light. After participating in WWII he said:
"The Way of the Warrior has been misunderstood. It is not a means to kill and destroy others. Those who seek to compete and better one another are making a terrible mistake. To smash, injure, or destroy is the worst thing a human being can do. The real Way of a Warrior is to prevent such slaughter - it is the Art of Peace, the power of love."

The legacy he left us will be celebrated in the next few days worldwide.

Simple pleasures

I opened my eyes this morning in a soft bed, after a good night sleep. I was laying there for a while, listening to the birds. I got up, washed my face in cold water, and looked out the window; the sun was shinning bright and everything looked so green outside. Now sitting at the desk, my cat is purring on my lap, I hear a sweet whispering conversation between my daughter and husband in the bedroom, and the water, boiling for tea, in the kitchen. Soon the scent of the jasmine buds will fill the study, and I will take small sips of this hot pleasure. I will go outside to water the plants, enjoy the new red leaves on the maple, and the new growth of the vegetable patch. Later I will take my daughter to her Ballet class, be delighted again with her adorable movements, and will then go to the Dojo for an Aikido class, for my daily practice.

Simple pleasures — never to take them for granted.

Sacred lands

This past weekend, my family took a short vacation on the Central Coast of California. We got to experience some of the most breathtaking views of the Pacific Coast; strolls on mighty cliffs in Montaña del Oro, sunbathing on the wide shell beach South of Los Osos, and walks on the silky sands North of Moro Bay.

Yet out of all these majestic landscapes, I was captured by a simple looking place, a small farm in the middle of nowhere. This magical place is called Huasna Valley, about an hour drive East of Arroyo Grande.

Many years ago, these lands were Chumash Indians territory, as they were the largest Indian group in the state of California, ranging from Malibu to Morro Bay and well into Kern County. Many places in their territory were considered sacred — Huasna was one of their "portals to heaven" sites.

We spent a casual Easter afternoon with a few friends, their children, the farm's dogs, chickens and goats. The children decorated eggs, fed the animals, and went on an egg hunt, while the adults helped making and serving the food, making aquantences and enjoying the gorgeous weather under a giant oak tree — sweet and casual moments.

An hour after our arrival I had this gripping feeling — I have never felt so relaxed in my life! Something inside me was in total Calm! This was a similar feeling to what I experienced in deep meditation or in near-sleep moments — and yet, I was walking, talking, observing and engaging with everything around me. My stress level was of non existence, and I felt very quiet, soothed and in complete connection. It was so very enjoyable, as if I was inside a hugh, soft, fluffy cottonball. When I turned to our hostess to explain what I felt, she smilingly nodded and in an understanding voice she said: "This is Huasna...", as if she heard it many times before.

I am still taken by the experience. I do not grasp how this little farm, in this little valley brought so much peace and quiet energy into my soul. For the moment, I leave it at that, knowing I am bound to go back to Huasna.

Peeling off

When people ask me what one gains while training in Aikido, I usually answer that in my own experience it seems like I have thrown away more than I obtained.
Some of them raise an eyebrow; How can that be? After all, now you are stronger and more skillful...

I believe that this is what meets the eye. Under the surface, on an internal level, a person is being slowly peeled. The journey progresses inwards, into the core.

After walking long enough we find out that many things such as ranks, belts, and titles are merely symbolizing the step-stone we are on at a certain moment. We realize that the practice of clarity, awareness, manners, and compassion are far more profound. We understand that simplicity, integrity and kindness are leading us on a quiet road. And as we walk deeper and deeper within our search - we are peeling off.
While we train daily, sweat, and work our bodies, we throw away false concepts, expectations and beliefs, bad habits and some parts of our personality that do not contribute to the balance of our lives. Slowly shaving off while holding the vision of becoming a kinder human being, and empowering others to realize their own visions.

Spring power

Spring!
It's showing everywhere.
The tulip's buds, the velvet swellings on the maple,
all rising from a long sleep.
Awake,
connecting to what is, not to what isn't.

Nature's school

There is an idiom in Japanese: 花鳥風月 Kachou Fuugetsu. It literally means: Flower, Bird, Wind, Moon. The meaning of it is: Experience the beauty of nature, and in doing so learn about yourself.

O'Sensei wrote: "Study how water flows in a valley stream, smoothly and freely between the rocks. Also learn from holy books and wise people. Everything - even mountains, rivers, plants and trees - should be your teacher."

Many of us prefer to learn from authority figures, such as teachers, coaches, and parents. Nature's wonders are everywhere, and yet we are not aware of most of them. Scientists today are discovering some cutting edge technologies that are found in animals, and mainly in insects — such technologies that may be greatly beneficial to humanity, yet we don't have the knowledge to duplicate them.

In our practice we can learn from everything around us, not just from our teachers. Every moment brings a new lesson, and may provide an opportunity for discovery. Nature is a mirror we can take a look at and see our own reflection. By looking at trees I get interesting ideas about my center, wind teaches me about energy paths, and from my two cats I learn about accuracy in movement. Moment by moment, awake, in this never ending school.

Moving on

"If you find a path with no obstacles,
it probably doesn't lead anywhere" .
~anonymous


I believe that having a student-teacher relationship is essential in the study of Aikido. There may be a variety of occurrences and different reasons for a student to be looking for a new teacher. I remember the first time I saw my teacher. I had a strong gut feeling that I must become his student. For a long time I brushed this idea off, because it didn't make sense logistically. Sensei was teaching in Northern California, while I was running a printing company in Los Angeles. The chances of this to happen did not seem realistic at all.

Sometimes, we need to make a commitment first, and then deal with the logistics and consequences. It took many months of envisioning and debating with my logical side before I made my commitment. Eventually, I joined the Berkeley Dojo in 1995, and all the details (though somewhat complex) fell in place; I took a flight every Thursday to Northern California, and flew back on Mondays. This routine lasted for almost six years, in which I practiced in Berkeley as a Kenshusei (apprentice).

I remember that on the third week of my membership there, one of my classmates asked me: "So, why are you doing this?", I answered: "Because I want to be Sensei's student". He smiled and said he understands. Even though I didn't know what I got myself into at that time, I am glad I followed my heart, and did not listen to my friends who thought I was out of my mind. Nowadays, I look back and it makes me happy that all this was possible for me. This was indeed a profound accord in my life.

If we follow our gut feeling and make a commitment, the clarity brings a relief to the uncertainty of "sitting on the fence". Moving on is not always easy to do, but at the very least, it provides a direction on the path that was not revealed to us before. Moving on, trusting the Way, it is always wiser than we are.

A serious enjoyment

During most of my life I found it hard to enjoy myself while I had to be serious. Enjoyment was usually unraveling while in a light and carefree setting. Therefore, when I started to practice Aikido in my thirties, I did not incorporate much seriousness into my daily training. It was more like playtime, that I got to have after my workday. I took a couple of years to understand that this practice requires one to face the preciousness of each moment, a life and death feeling, in order to really deepen the training. I kept bumping into my own walls; my habit of making jokes, taking it easy and behaving in a casual manner. As time passed I learned to find the balance between mindful intensity and the feeling of lightness and enjoyment.

One of my students talked with me today about his doubts, arising from the ongoing aches and pains, frustration and the misunderstanding of Dojo etiquette. On one hand, he wants to train harder, faster and with more intensity - while on the other hand he is always concerned about getting hurt, and the discomfort in his body. The practice on the mat is a reflection of life outside the Dojo — life contains pain and frustration, as well as joy and fun moments. As the saying goes “It just wouldn't be a picnic without the ants”. There are lessons within the pain, inconvenience and even injuries. These lessons are usually not gift-wrapped, but they are true gifts.

With that being said, let's remember the sweet enjoyment and appreciation deriving from having this practice in our lives. Experimenting with discovery, learning new skills, and engaging in an intriguing mind-body-spirit activity that helps us evolve and flourish. What a great excitement we have on the mat, yet, this too, is not staying with us forever. We get to experience both sides, and work at the delicate balancing act between them. Being all goofy and chatty has no place during practice, just as much as nerve-wracking tension may not be very beneficial. A healthy balance will ensure a productive practice.

In O'Sensei "Rules for Training Aikido" we find these two rules:
"Aikido decides life and death in a single strike" and "Training should always be conducted in a pleasant and joyful atmosphere". Most of us will note that sometimes we lean towards one side or the other, sometimes too serious, or too light. There are days in which we deal with moods, interactions and occurrences that affect us in one way or another. When we come to the Dojo, we get an opportunity to restore our balance, to center and also to have some fun.

The gift in the pain, the spark in the routine — may sound like paradoxes, yet they do happen and serve us well. Let's practice hard, but let's not forget our smiles.