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.

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.

Mountains and plateaus

When I observe beginners in practice I am amazed by how wide open they are to learning. The discoveries they make are exciting. Their enthusiasm glows in their eyes. The amount of change they undergo in the first few months is immense; studying about their body and mental tendencies, about movement and interaction, and about the application of what's learned on the mat into their daily life. Many of the things they do, like rolling, are completely new (and at times, scary) and may be done for the first time in their lives.

This first period of time is like infancy - indeed, a clean slate, a beginner's mind. We absorb and try everything for the first time. We change rapidly. We feel we can climb any hill and move any mountain with the power of our exploration. The next few years will be much like childhood - experiencing this world of new knowledge, and trying out everything with much curiosity. The path is colorful, and the landscape keeps changing.

Yet as time passes by, we find out that big discoveries are coming less frequent and we enter a new stage of work. We feel more comfortable. It seems harder to have "fresh eyes" and we become somewhat conditioned. We walk the gray plateaus, and the deeper we study, the longer the stretches. We have doubts and second thoughts, and we ask ourselves whether we want to keep going. We advance slowly and we sometime feel we regress. Now and then we experience a breakthrough. We come to the understanding that walking this path is not about entertainment. There is a lot of work to be done and much to be practiced. We get to experience the path with its subtle layers. No longer studying the techniques but refining them, not learning whole movements but working on subtle shifts of angles and positioning, examining our timing in every encounter. Yet in the face of hard work, we discover our own capacity to move on and enjoy our growth.

By recognizing the depth and richness this path offers - one will reach maturity. From infancy to adulthood, perseverance is right beside us. We develop our skills, sharpen our techniques and build our internal strength. Step by step, we keep walking, roaming the great plateaus.

Drum sound rises on the air, its throb, my heart.
A voice inside the beat says,
"I know you're tired, but come. This is the way."
~Rumi