It had been a while since I had taken my last ride, so it took me a little time to get comfortable on the bike.  Finally, my body/mind made the transition to that familiar state in which I didn’t think about what I was doing, I just let my body take over.  In this state, you just feel how the bike is moving under you, reacting to the terrain, looking ahead down the trail to let your mind prepare for the next obstacle.  You can’t really think about anything when you are in this mode.  If you do, you will invariably tighten up, start manhandling the bike, and generally flailing around gracelessly on the trail.  This also expends a significant amount of energy needlessly (and it’s no fun.)  So you have to strive for this relaxed “flow” state to have the best ride.

So how is “flow” achieved?  First, you have to forget about how your day went, or what’s going to happen when you get home.  You have to “live in the now”, as they say.  This is actually pretty easy on a desert trail since there are so many obstacles (rocks, ruts, bushes, cactus) to avoid.  If you aren’t paying attention to the “now” you are probably crashing.  This step is the same when stepping onto the mat for Aikido practice, or using it in a self defense situation.  The risk of mishap or injury is just too high to clutter up your mind with random crap while you are trying to deal with an attacker.  The attacker and your immediate surroundings, which might include other attackers, has to be your full priority.

Second, you have to stay relaxed and not over-control the bike.  If you tighten up and try to steer the front wheel around every little rock, you will fail and crash.  Things come too quickly for you to process them all so you have to let your body do the steering by leaning your body and bike to steer with only small inputs to the bars.  Similar to Aikido practice, if you are so concerned about using your hands/arms to apply a “technique” at the point of conflict, your defense will fail because you ignored uke’s BODY.  Your muscles can perform better from a relaxed state since they don’t have to unclench before being put to work again.

Third, you have to “see” (or “listen” to) the trail through touch.  This means you can’t just look down the trail for rocks to avoid, you have to feel what the trail is telling you through the contact with the tires and up through the structure of the bike.  This allows you to react by changing your position to maintain your line or carve a turn around a rock.  My Wing Chun Sifu uses this all the time.  You have to listen to your attacker through your sense of touch once you have engaged and made contact with them.  Then depending on what you “hear” through that contact, you make a response.  Aikido is exactly the same, in fact, this is what Aikido is all about.  If you are too worried about yourself, and not listening to what your uke is telling you through your connection, your defense will fail.

In practice, this sense of “flow” is difficult for beginning students to achieve.  They are still working on the basic gross motor aspect of many techniques that they can’t just stop thinking about them and react.  However, it is good practice to once and a while have uke change up the attack to see what comes out of nage in terms of defense.  The longer you practice, the more likely your body will respond without you thinking about it.  That is the goal:  Takemusu Aiki.

Gambate kudasai!

http://blog.aikidojournal.com/blog/2011/07/19/martial-arts-practice-and-the-deceived-mind-by-stanley-pranin/#comment-17875

I encourage you to read it and the comments that follow.  There is a lot of good information and discussion on the topic.

The topic of where to focus on your opponent is a frequently addressed one in the martial arts. Some schools say to focus on the opponents eyes/hands/hips, etc. Musashi comments on this in the Wind Scroll of his Gorin no Sho. First he says: “To fasten the eyes in this way on a particular spot is liable to interfere with the mind and is a fault in strategy.” This basically says none of these is correct for your focus. It causes you to attach your attention on one thing instead on the totality of the action. Later Musashi states: “as a result of narrow and minutely detailed vision, you will let something big escape you, and your mind will become uncertain, which will lead you to let a sure chance of winning get away from you”. This is probably good advice to heed from arguably the most successful swordsman of all time (at least in Japan.)

In mountain biking, the number one rule is “don’t stare at the rock”. On a trail, especially in the desert where I live, you encounter many rocks and other obstacles. It’s a virtual certainty that if you stare at the rock, you will hit it, disrupting the flow of your ride (or crashing). Your bike will follow where you look with an almost magical accuracy, sometimes to your detriment. So to be successful, you need to look where you want to go. You can’t attach your gaze to individual parts of the trail however. You need to look down the trail and dynamically pick a PATH. Done properly, this creates a smooth, low effort ride at high speed.

In my mind this “path” selection on the bike is like seeing telltale clues in your opponent and predicting their movement for the next second or so. This allows you to select the appropriate response with some speed and accuracy, increasing your odds of surviving the encounter, or escaping injury. This kind of vision is what is commonly called a “soft gaze”. You look at the center of the chest of your opponent but you don’t focus on the chest. Instead you de-focus, or look beyond him so that you are able to detect movement in his entire body at the same time.

In this metaphor, the attack is like the rock, if that is all you focus on, your response is likely to clash with it. Instead you need to see the attack and your response as part of the whole. Once you engage with you opponent, you add the sense of touch which can guide your response even faster than vision. So to focus on what you are seeing is only part of the picture.

     This article was inspired by an article published online by Aikido Journal, titled “Managing Change in Aikido” by George Ledyard.  Read it here, (“http://www.aikidojournal.com/blog/2009/11/08/brian-kagen-pick-managing-change-in-aikido-by-george-ledyard/”) BEFORE you read my article below.  Also read the comments, since some of the information is included in Ledyard Sensei’s reply to a comment posted by a reader.

     Ledyard Sensei’s article could not be more true or more timely for me.  I took a break from full time Aikido training in 2007 to study Wing Chun.  Initially it was to improve my mediocre striking skills (gained from a year of Tae Kwon Do in High School).

     However, I quickly found that the style I was studying had all the answers I ever needed about why one repetition of an Aikido technique worked and another didn’t.  It wasn’t about “feeling”, “flow”, “ki extension”, or holding my hands “kokyu” (what does that even mean anyway?).  It was simply the position of my body parts.  And this branch of Wing Chun (Hung Fa Yi) has very straightforward, scientific principles about where to put your hands/wrists/elbows/hips/knees/feet.  There are too many details to even mention, but suffice it to say, I learned a tremendous amount of Aikido every time I took a Wing Chun class.  Despite training in a pure Aikido class maybe only 10 times over a two year period, my fellow yudansha noticed that the quality of my Aikido had not deteriorated, and had in fact improved in many respects.

     Yes, I am one of those lowly Sandan’s starting my own school (refer to Ledyard’s article).   From what I have seen in the Aikido community (both in person and through video), I do have something to offer that does not appear as commonly as I once thought.  It is not my intention to imply that I have somehow learned the secrets of Aikido and that others have been fumbling in the dark.  However, through my cross training in another art, I have gained a new perspective on the practicality and effectiveness of some traditional Aikido training practices.  I probably never would have made these discoveries if I had toiled along in my comfortable training regime.  I have learned a TON about Aikido, OUTSIDE of traditional Aikido practice. 

     I noticed this in some videos of certain famous instructors and during the classes at the Bridge Seminar in San Diego last January.  In demonstrating technique for the class, all of them executed perfect form for one or more of the entering/engaging movements I have learned from Hung Fa Yi Wing Chun.  There was some effort to explain these movements, but not in the kind of clear detail that I have received from my HFY training.  When I explained these things to my dojo-mates in attendance and showed them how easy it was to reproduce, they were amazed!  It’s not magic, just knowledge.  Do we all have to labor along for 25-50 years of regular practice until we stumble upon them?  Do we try to mimic these high level instructors without really knowing what we are doing?  No, all we have to do is open our eyes and see that some of what we need to know to keep our Aikido as a MARTIAL art, may not actually be found at an Aikido dojo.

     I don’t know these instructors personally enough to ask them, but I think their movements have been refined over decades of practice until they just KNOW: “I need to make my arm/body, THIS shape” to make it work, probably without really knowing where each part is placed in relation to the rest of their body, or WHY it works that way and not some other way, just that it DOES.  I have not trained in any of these teachers personal dojos, so I don’t know if the details are explained to their direct students or not.  All I know is that I have never heard a teacher explain them at any Aikido dojo or seminar I have ever attended.   I was explained how to form some of these structures and why they work in my first month of lessons at HFY.

     So, has my Aikido practice changed as a result of what I learned?  You bet.  Is it still Aikido?  Absolutely.  What I have learned has allowed me to make what I already do, more reliable and effective, without changing the core Aikido concept at all.  In fact, if any of you get a chance to cross train in another art, I would wholeheartedly recommend Hung Fa Yi Wing Chun.  The principles, engagements, connection to center are all exactly in alignment with Aikido.  They only part ways once uke’s center is taken:  Aikido leans towards a more (potentially) benevolent solution, HFY is firmly in the camp of striking until the uke is no longer in the fight. Does all of this make Hung Fa Yi Wing Chun a “better” art than Aikido?  No, and you have all seen those kinds of debates beat to death in online forums.  But that does not mean that we as Aikidoka cannot learn lessons from this art or any other. 

     O-Sensei took what he learned from a lifetime of study and put it into the art that he passed on to his students.  The problem is that what he ended up passing on was the result of continuous change over the course of his martial arts career.  Since we cannot go back and accompany him while he did his journey, the best we can do is make sure we are asking the same kinds of questions he did.  Try out new ideas, look at other arts, find what works.  That’s what he did.  Too many Aikidoka put O-Sensei on a pedestal and imply that no one will ever be able to reach him.  I think that is a mistake.  He was a man.  What one man can do, another man can do.  If I didn’t think it was possible to reach or exceed the level of my teachers, I would quit training.  I’m not planning to quit any time soon…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_vvI26NnwE

This is obviously an extreme/absurd example of requiring a specific attack of your partner.  For practice, you should have some agreement of how uke is going to attack so that the technique you are learning is appropriate to the attack.  If uke attacks in a different way, nage may need to respond a different way.  If the difference is too large, you both end up practicing something different than what was shown, which is bad etiquette in the dojo and potentially unsafe.

All that being said, I have occasionally practiced with people at seminars and dojos I visited where I have been told that I was “attacking wrong”.  I usually just smile and do it the way they want me to.  Sometimes I ask about other ways of attacking, and get shown the “proper” (in their dojo) way to attack.  In the back of my mind though, I’m thinking that this is probably not a healthy training place if you are at all interested in realistic self defense.  You should absolutely conform to the traditions of your art in terms of set practice kata.  But if you want to pass off what you are doing as self defense, you better allow “wierd” attacks like jabs, uppercuts, kicks, etc. 

This is why you see so many people in Aikido today cross training in other, typically fighting/striking, arts.  In the past, many early Aikido students came to the art with experience in another art and that experience included realistic efffective strikes/attacks.  Nowadays, many Aikidoka have only done Aikido and their attacks are terrible.  Too many Aikidoka practice only against a long punch with a step that remains extended so that you can work the technique.  This would only happen in a very small number of attacks in my opinion.  Also, I have rarely seen anyone practice against a 1-2 punch.  If you always only expect one punch, you will be in a world of hurt when your attacker blasts you with a continuous barrage of strikes.

I have been training simultaneously in Aikido and Wing Chun Kung Fu (Hung Fa Yi) for the past 3+ years.  The striking and engagements I have learned there have significantly altered and improved my Aikido.  Pretty much none of what I have learned about striking resembles what you see in most Aikido practice (style issues aside).  Distances are closer and more realistic.  If you screw up, you are likely to get a fat lip.  I would say this is not true in a large number of Aikido schools, based on my sampling.

So next time you step on the mat, think about switching it up a little bit.  You will be amazed at how a small change can make you more aware of holes in your training and reinvigorate your practice.

My Aikido sensei always pushed us to find applications of Aikido outside the dojo, and I have done that for years.  One of my other activities outside of work besides Aikido is mountain biking.  I can leave my house on my bike and be on a desert trail in about 90 seconds.  I don’t get to ride very often but when I do my brain always seems to make connections between my Aikido practice and what I’m doing on my bike.

One of the most important parts of riding off road on hilly terrain is energy management.  You have a constant exchange in energy between gravitational potential (elevation), kinetic(speed), and the chemical energy (food, ATP) your body uses in manipulating the bike.  Many novice riders find a speed they are comfortable with and keep it relatively constant during their ride, up hill or down.  This makes for a more tiring ride.  They will tend to use their brakes to reduce speed on downhills and then have to use their own energy to get up the next hill rather than exchanging gravitational energy for kinetic.  This technique results because they are not yet comfortable with their ability to control the bike at higher speeds, and they are afraid of crashing.  The average speed of the rider is also slower since the up hill climbs are started at a lower speed and are more difficult. 

The experienced rider will be using the hills to their advantage to gain speed and keep as much as possible of it to help them get up the next hill.  This is best illustrated when crossing through the many washes that desert trails cross.  These are fairly short, steep downhills, with some flat in the middle and a short, steep climb up the other side.  When done well on rolling terrain like where I ride, you can get across these washes with a minimum of rider effort.  Stay off the brakes the entire time and keep your speed all the way to the bottom of the climb out.  If possible, change to a higher (harder) gear across the flat so you can pedal slowly at a high bike speed.  On the climb out you might only need one or two pedal rotations to get to the top.  This is because you can use the speed gained by elevation change to get you most of the way up the other side.  You can use a high gear on the flat part to actually increase your speed so that you don’t have to switch to a low gear to grind your way to the top of the climb.  Done well, you can cut your time across a wash in half, with very little energy expended.

So how does this apply to Aikido practice?  Well, we manage energy in Aikido all the time (if we’re doing it right).  The attack is like the trail.  If a punch comes in, this is like energy you get from going down a hill.  You wouldn’t waste that gravitational energy by turning it into heat in your brakes.  Likewise, you wouldn’t try to stop the attacker’s motion only to have to use your own energy to start them moving again to finish your defense.  Instead, you receive the attack with minimal energy input of your own to redirect it in the direction of the intended defense.  Your input has to be at the right time and place just as your pedal strokes have to be in order for the result to feel effortless.

In terms of expert versus novice, the fear of an attack has an effect on how efficiently we deal with it.  As you are just learning technique, you go slow and try to get the position right, but you are not very efficient or effective at this stage.  As you lose the fear, it’s like allowing your bike to just run underneath you and flow up and down over the trail.  You become more adept at blending with the energy instead of clashing and dissipating it.  Once you stop clashing, you can find the point where a small energy input creates large results in terms of uke’s movement.  This is like those few pedal strokes at the bottom or top of a wash, easy if you know when and where to do them.

So, am I advocating that Aikidoka need to go out and ride their bike?  Actually, yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.  Just like any other knowledge or skill, novel applications facilitate learning and new brain connections.  You don’t have to be an expert bike rider or racer.  But once you get on your bike and ride around your neighborhood, you should begin to see how subtle body inputs can have significant impact on your experience.   Plus, it’s just fun….

What is interesting in the use of “center” in Aikido is that it is typically referred to as a point, or as a disruption of “center”.  I think that part of the problem we as non-Japanese have in interpreting these kinds of things is that we do not fully appreciate all of the nuances that perhaps a native Japanese speaker would understand.  I speak some Japanese, but am far from fluent, and I don’t even pretend to be able to interpret the language with any but the most limited understanding.  However, I think that there is much more to the use of the word center than is typically made explicit in most Aikido practice.

Over the last 2 ½ years of my practice in Hung Fa Yi Wing Chun, I have learned a slightly different way of talking about “center”.  As expressed by Grandmaster Garret Gee, Hung Fa Yi Wing Chun (HFYWC or HFY from now on), there are three centers to address in two person combat, and these are not points as discussed above, but lines:  self centerline, opponent centerline, and the line connecting your centers.  In this way, you can talk about what is happening to your (and your uke’s) centerline in terms of its orientation (vertical or tilted) and not just its location.  I have learned a lot about taking center and putting pressure on someone’s center from training in HFY.  This is not because it is better or more “effective”, but because it provides a very systematic and scientific framework that can be analyzed and evaluated with relative ease.  What is wonderful, is that all of these ideas are essentially identical to what Aikidoka are using the word “center” for, they are just more specific in their expression from the HFY system.

I have found that by thinking about these three centerlines in my Aikido practice has improved it significantly.  I think this concept was there all along in Aikido, but many times it ends up expressed in quasi-mystical terms, or dismissed as something which must be felt and cannot be described.  On the contrary, it can be described (as HFY does) and there is nothing mystical about it.  You do still need to feel it to get the full meaning, but knowing intellectually in addition to feeling it makes a big difference in terms of the quality of your training.

For example, if you think about uke’s centerline as extending vertically through their hara, down to the floor and up through the head, you can easily see how as a nage, you can put pressure on their center at any point along that line.  The results may very depending on where you apply pressure, but you will still be affecting their “center”.  So next time you train, try to find (and keep track of) all three “centers”.