This was a good question from a small boy whose autism does not prevent him from trying to make connections.

What does lavender have to do with 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."?

George Lyons SenseiTeacher; anyone who gives guidance along the way; literally "born before" connected him to O SenseiGreat teacher; the founder of Aikido, Morihei Ueshiba with a few threads, not too many; just enough to satisfy him.

“Lavender brought me to Aikido,” I thought as I stood by listening.

As a kid, I used to rest near a kind but intent grandmother, watching her fingers fly in her needlework. She smelled of Yardley lavender soap and always kept sachets in the yarns, in her drawers. Years later, while walking around a lake with an old dog, I noticed a tall barn. It somehow blended with undulating and improbable fields of lavender and the trees behind it. A small sign said “Peace Valley Lavender” and so I ventured out of my typical orbit one day and peeked in.

The lavender scent embraced me with its customary warmth, relaxing but alerting at the same time. It flooded me with a sense of familiarity. There was a wonderful stillness to the shop and the two people I saw there. They seemed almost my age, yet moved with a lightness that made me look twice.

“How do you stay so fit?” I finally worked up the nerve to ask.

“Aikido,” came a short reply on top of dancing brown eyes. Patti.

“Where do you do that?” Always a quest, always looking for a teacher and a discipline.

“Upstairs.” “Oh.” “Go online, look at the website.” George Lyons. I didn’t know about George Lyons Sensei then.

I began the introductory course in October 2007. I began against the advice of my son who had taken classes and had been deterred by “getting thrown around.” “You’ll get hurt,” he worried, or was it just a statement of fact?

By week six of the intro course:

“It’s hopeless.”

“It’s only hopeless if you quit,” said Nick.

“It’s hard.” “It’s neither hard nor soft, good nor bad…” said Eric.

“Posture,” said Helen.

“Foundation,” said John.

“Is there ever a time that you’d have to tell a student that they just didn’t have what it takes?” “I can’t imagine a situation we’d have to say that,” said Patti, with a small smile.

“What do these vows mean that we chant in zazenMeditation posture and exercise?” “Sort of just to do your best,” said George Lyons Sensei with a small shrug, never too much, always just enough.

I began to read about Aikido’s history. It was called an Art. I could see why. The Art of Peace replaced all the bedside books. Not many words in that little book, but powerful.

Greg O’Connor’s Aikido Student Handbook came in next to it — the philosophy, spirit, etiquette and train¬ing methods of Aikido. He didn’t neglect to say that Aikido can be a lethal self-defense, “but if you are attacked too much in life you need to begin examining what you are putting out there.” That tore a scab right off a 30-year-old wound in my heart. Anger flooded up, no longer just inarticulate and breathless fear, but ANGER. I put nothing out all those years ago except a feminine joy of life, long strides, head flung back… I was attacked three times. Three times I fought, three times I lost badly. Now people were grabbing me around the neck and throwing me down. The muscle memory and the emotions became huge: I was freezing. An up rooted tree brought me to tears… this introductory course had become part psychotherapy, part Rolfing.

All through this beginning, George Lyons Sensei would throw the blanket of his glance out. “Where are you right now?” his eyes seemed to ask as turmoil and frustration would turn frenetic. Oh. I am here. And so I was and so I am.

“Why do you do it?” asked the small boy some months later. “It helps me remember to close cupboard doors,” came the glib reply, followed by “Patience, it builds patience in me, just like you do!” The dojoPlace of the way; a place for strengthening and refinement body, mind and spirit; training hall has become hombu. New vocabulary has replaced neurotic old loops.

Aikido filled a lack and yet made space in an exhausted mind. It has begun to remodel an old body. It has renewed faith, made laughter well up, put old demons to rest.

Months later as I sit quietly watching my old dad’s breath go in and out, I am flooded with gratitude for the lively partnership of training, for the energy that fills the dojo every day as people come to practice together. The sweat, the physics, left, right, posture, move, blend, look. Sit still. “A stick, a stone. It is nothing at all,” Antonio Carlos Jobim sings for us.