|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Takemusu Aiki Takemusu Aiki is a term used by Morihei Ueshiba, founder of Aikido, to refer to the highest level of Aikido. When I first started my Aikido training, I tried to gain some insight into the essence of this unique art by researching literature on Takemusu Aiki. Translations of the founder’s texts defined Takemusu Aiki as meaning "infinitely generative martial art of Aiki". I found this definition somewhat difficult to understand. The few excerpts I could find about Takemusu Aiki talked about how Aikido is not limited to structured set techniques as taught in class. That once the fundamental principles were internalized, it was possible to generate an infinite variety of new techniques as the situation warranted. I interpreted this to mean the instinctive and spontaneous movements of an expert Aikido practitioner. I likened this skill to operating in the so-called “zone” of optimal performance. This initial interpretation of Takemusu Aiki, and its importance to Aikido training, slowly began to unfold overtime. This is the story of that evolution… I will never forget the first time I saw a demonstration of the martial effectiveness of Aikido against multiple attackers. It was like nothing I had ever seen before in my previous years of martial arts training. The experience of feeling the power of the techniques first-hand was also like nothing I had ever experienced. It felt as if some strange force had effortlessly swept me up and spat me out, like I had just stepped into a tornado. The confusing part was that I did not feel muscled at all. From this early experience, I knew that there was more to Aikido than just the physical aspect. I had felt it. Even though I didn't quite understand what I felt, from that moment on its realization became my quest. During the early phase of my Aikido training, my training partners and I would co-operate in performing set movements and drills. Each person understood their role: - who was to attack, exactly what attack to deliver, and the designated defence technique that was to be performed. To ensure safety, the attacks where slow, and the defence pre-determined. No resistance was to be offered. The goal was to try to imitate the precise manner in which our instructor had just demonstrated the various techniques during class. After some training, we also developed the ability to perform spectacular looking high falls. Even though it was all choreographed, we felt a certain sense of gratification from our ability to put on such an impressive performance. It never failed to impress the public, and even seemed convincing to some people who had some years of martial arts training. Initially, this role-play was beneficial in order to practice safe falling (ukemi) and nurture confidence. At this early point in my training, I thought that progress into more realistic martial effectiveness would naturally result from faster and more dynamic execution of these pre-arranged Aikido techniques. In order to move beyond skilful choreography, once the technical execution of my form was more or less correct, my instructor directed my training partners to grip me more firmly from a much stronger, static stance and strike realistically from a more balanced, stable posture. I was therefore confronted with a new challenge. The instant my training partners felt me trying to control them by force, they either instinctively tensed up and resisted my efforts, or they continued with a barrage of unexpected attacks that saw my defence crumble under the onslaught. I therefore started to analyse correct combat distance, timing and pre-emptive martial engagement strategies with my training partners. During my more determined efforts, my training partners would be forced into submission in order to avoid risking ligament injury. At this point in my training, I was still heavily reliant on force and leverage in my technique in order to overcome their resistance. The futility of using force against force, however, was clearly evident when the more senior students in the class could easily stop the execution of my techniques, or counter my movements at will. As, by this stage, I had been training in Aikido for some time, my inability to realistically defend myself against multiple attackers who where serious about wanting to take me down made me question the effectiveness of the techniques in a real-life situation. In order to help me progress, my instructor placed even more emphasis on my being able to integrate the physical techniques of Aikido with a mental ability of focusing my mind on a specific point in my lower abdomen, and extending awareness from that point. Even though I had been instructed to do this right from the very first day of training, my instructor now prescribed a much slower method of training, where execution of each technique was broken down into segments. With my training partners offering such strong commitment, and offering resistance to any attempt to control them, the risk of reverting to my old strength habits was still high. Therefore, before commencing and technique, as well as during the technique, I was required to stop at certain intervals, make a conscious effort to relax, and re-establish the correct mental focus. This slower training gave me enough time to detect any tenseness within myself, and my training partners. Several drills and sub-exercises where added to facilitate the feeling of applying effective technique without any force or technical ‘tricks’. So, instead of seeing their strong resistance is an obstacle to be overcome, it now proved to be a valuable feedback mechanism. If I successfully combined the technical elements of the movement with the correct mental focus and non-aggressive attitude, my training partners were continuously off-balance, and could not resist at any point during the technique. If my focus remained steadfast, and my body remained relaxed, my training partners could not even regain balance when I was stationary during the mental re-adjustment periods between each segment of the entire technique sequence. At this point in my training, I began to analyses and understand how this dynamic control of my training partners resulted from a direct link between my centre and their centre of gravity through the correct application of each Aikido technique. When combined with a relaxed disposition that telegraphed no tension, I was able to capture their balance and maintain control with minimal physical effort. Once I could accomplish each segment of a technique correctly, I was instructed to practice the entire technique smoothly, at a place that did not exceed my ability to remain relaxed, and hold my focus steadfast on my centre throughout the entire technique. With practice, the outward appearance was that of a smooth, continuous technique. Internally, however, I was continuously monitoring my ability to remain relaxed, and maintain focus on my lower abdomen, while extending my awareness from a point just below my navel. When the speed at which I attempted to perform the technique exceed my ability to remain relaxed, or maintain the required focus and mental extension from my lower abdomen, my old strength habits would immediately kick-in. My instructor would use analogies like “a movie reel is just the continuous role of individual frames” to help me understand that the required mental focus had to be recreated not just segment-by-segment, but instant-by-instant before, during and after completion of the technique. Strong ‘ki’, he said, would manifest in the technique with my ability to train my body to remain relaxed, breath correctly, and allow a natural awareness and body-intelligence to emerge out of a stable posture… “from now on”, he said, “technique was less important than this ability”. “Unlimited technique”, he added, “is borne from this ability, so long as you hold to the fundamental principles of moving off the attack-line, maintain correct distance and rhythm etc.” At this point in my training, ‘ki’ was a mysterious esoteric concept, but I interpreted him to mean that a relaxed body, combined with this particular mental focus on a point in my lower abdomen, was somehow related to it. Confused but resolute, I continued to train smoothly, and slowly as instructed. With each training session I was presented with new challenges that required earnest striving beyond my current mental capability. This instilled within me a humble recognition that the true "Path" was not so much in achieving victory over ones adversaries, but in the ability to persist with earnest, constant striving beyond ones current capability towards the attainment of higher physical and mental capabilities. At this level, my conscious mind was required to stay alert in order to gauge whether or not I was remaining truly relaxed, and could maintain correct posture and mental focus under increasing amounts of pressure. At the same time, however, a prerequisite requirement for success was that my mind be free from the incessant chatter of a calculating and dominating conscious ego. And ego molded by past experiences, beliefs and subconscious emotional responses. So, even though I needed to engage my conscious awareness in order to train slowly and methodically, the risk that the ego’s strong sense-of-self would kick in and override my mental focus was ever present. The moment this happened during execution of the technique, control over my training partner’s centre of balance vanished, and all that remained was my ego, intent on victory, grappling with an increasingly resistant opponent. “The heart of Aikido is: true Victory is Self-Victory…
In order to move beyond ego dominance, I needed to train myself to consistently and seamlessly maintain the required mental focus at every instant throughout each technique. I allowed no thought of contention or fighting to infiltrate my deep, calm, inner concentration. Eventually, the ability to maintain this state-of-being took priority over any desired outcome of victory. At times, differentiation between my training partners and myself, as well as everything else, seemed to dissipate. This dynamic meditative state evoked an awe-inspiring glimpse into the greater reality of my connectedness with everything and everyone. At this point in my training, I started to gain some insight into why O’Sensei described Takemusu Aiki as a mystical experience that filled his heart with joy and gratitude. I also gained insight into what O’Sensei meant by his comments about becoming more open and receptive to the natural laws that dictate unforced and harmonious interaction. At about this time, I also began to contemplate why O’Sensei described Takemusu Aiki as the linking back to an original, undifferentiated consciousness that he stated was the underlying theme behind all spiritual disciplines.
With the practice of Aikido, I believe O’Sensei invites us to recognize that we are all an integral part of a connected universe, and not an isolated entity that is separate or apart from it, or each other. Through profound study of the human spirit, O’Sensei understood that the human psyche is fragmented by individual likes and dislikes, judgment between what is good or bad, and between what is right or wrong. O’Sensei realized how this sense of separation breeds competition, anxiety, desire, resentment, frustration and fear in the world, resulting in escalating hostility and confrontation between nations and races. O’Sensei also realized that, without an effective self-transformative discipline, like Aikido, these emotions would continue to reinforce the growing sense of segregation and isolation that has become so prevalent in our own society today. In the early phase of my Aikido training, this sense of personal separation was clearly reflected in the struggle I exhibited with my training partners.
Some spiritual teachings preach a doctrine of having to let go of, or destroy the ego. As my training unfolded, however, I realized that ego and authentic personality are equally essential players in life. Authentic personality is the vehicle for spirit to evolve through form. I realized that it was incorrect to want the ego to disappear – I learnt how to open my awareness so that ego and authentic personality worked together in alignment. The goal became to build an "emotionally intelligent" ego. I realized that, ironically, only a strong, mature ego has the power to take on the task of empowering our spirit to emerge forthright from behind an immature, overly protective, but ultimately isolated and lonely ego.
My own experience has taught me that Aikido training has the potential to cultivate our innate ability to interact spontaneously and naturally to the world around us from a deep-seated understanding of our connectedness to nature, as well as each other. As a result, I have come to appreciate why O’Sensei’s concept of Takemusu Aiki is so fundamentally important to Aikido practice. It is what differentiates training that is focused on the utilization of sophisticated martial strategies and techniques to gain victory over perceived adversaries – versus - a physical and mental discipline that's goal is to re-establish a sense of connectedness with our fellow human beings, and the creative life-force of nature (Ki). The way we approach our Aikido training determines whether or not we move closer to this realization. If you do not link yourself to True Emptiness, you will
Julius Aib, |
|
|
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
