In my childhood, I thought I would grow up to be a musician.  I loved going to band class and being part of the group; but most of all I loved performing at the concerts.  I was moved by being enveloped in the powerful sounds of a full concert band, especially when we nailed a difficult passage.

As time went on, I found that practicing alone was a struggle.  I hated hearing my sound without the rest of the ensemble and I was not comfortable with it.  At first, I frittered away my practice time muddling through my favorite songs or by repeating exercises that I already knew well and eventually, I stopped practicing all together.  But I was good enough to get by with the rest of the band playing around me, so I learned to hide my weakness in the crowd.

When I discovered jazz music, a whole new world was opened to me through the improvisational solo.  The great soloists made mistakes all the time, but by emphasizing a mistake (playing a wrong note over and over again) the soloist can construct a new theme and extend the solo.  I loved the rush of ripping out a monster solo and so I learned to hide my weakness in plain sight.

Once I got to college, I was exposed.  I had failed to develop the discipline required of a serious student and it was obvious to everyone, so I changed my major and went back to being a casual musician.  In other words, I took the easy way out.

At this time, as if on cue, I was introduced to aikidoThe word "Aikido" is made up of three japanese characters: ai - harmony, ki - spirit, mind, or universal energy, do - the way. Thus Aikido is "the way of harmony with universal energy." and the concepts instantly appealed to me: blend with an attacker’s energy, take the path of least resistance, neutralize your enemy.  I saw the art of aikido as a grand exercise in listening to the vibrations of the universe and I drew comfort from that.  I made it part of my life but I fell into the same old pattern.  Eventually, life got in the way and I quit the very thing that I loved because it was too demanding… again.

When I joined Bucks County Aikido, all of my preconceptions about aikido were shattered.

I recall on one of my first days in the dojoPlace of the way; a place for strengthening and refinement body, mind and spirit; training hall, I was training with Nick.  When he attacked, I raised both of my arms in defense (something I learned in another school).  Without having exchanged any prior words, he stated matter-of-factly, “If you bring that arm up again, I’m going to break it.”  I thought, “Whoa buddy!  We are supposed to be on the same team!”  After this encounter, I was sufficiently shaken and parched to want (no, to need) a drink of water and I began to make for the water jug… but Nick gently placed his hand on my shoulder and encouraged me to watch SenseiTeacher; anyone who gives guidance along the way; literally "born before" demonstrate the next technique.  I struggled to remain seated with my throat dry and ego bruised.  “This is not the aikido I remember,” I think “what have I gotten myself into?”

This, I found, was the beginning of a long struggle: a struggle to relax, a struggle to see what Sensei is demonstrating, a struggle to take good ukemiThe art of receiving or taking actions as uke, falling, a struggle to give an honest attack, a struggle to sit during zazenMeditation posture and exercise, a struggle just to get to the dojo, a struggle with aikido.

Through my struggle with aikido, I have come to understand that I never actually took responsibility for my study of music.  Early on, I refused the struggle.  I avoided acknowledging my weaknesses and focused only on my strengths.  I was comfortable with that.  I have learned that as a student of aikido, I must take responsibility for my weaknesses.  Indeed, they spill out onto the mat for all to see.  The dojo offers me no place to hide them.

Through my struggle with aikido, I have learned that my initial attraction to aikido was also misguided.  I became attracted to aikido because I found validation in taking the path of least resistance and comfort in the concepts of blending.  But I do not believe this is the true spirit of aikido.  I have learned that as a student of aikido, I must seek out resistance and the partners that challenge me.  Without opposition, without conflict, I do not believe the true spirit of aikido can arise.

I recently came across this passage in a book, about the legendary warriors in Homer’s epic poem, that I think speaks to what I am trying to convey (paraphrased from Ilium by Dan Simmons).  “In everything they do, these menHead run the full risk of failure.”

I have to come to know that aikido is not ‘the path of least resistance’ at all... it is a very difficult path to follow.  Sometimes I feel as if there is no path at all, or that I am all alone on the path, or that the path is full of contradiction; fraught alternately with fear and inspiration, pain and joy, people in conflict and people in concert.  So get comfortable with your weakness, run the full risk of failure, and struggle with your aikido.