aikido poetry from the kids' class

July 13, 2013

Aikido Techniques Two people facing each other. The people are standing like this: They put one leg in front The other in back. Looking to the side, one person grabs other. So the person who’s being grabbed slides behind the person. The person leans back. The person lets go. The other person grabs the person, puts down the other. Slaps the floor. -S. Presser, Age 6 Shikko Walk Put one leg down the other facing the Kamiza. Shikko. Slide the leg that’s down toward the leg that’s up. Then keep on doing it. -S. Presser, Age 6

difficulties on the way

June 28, 2013

The difficulty in practicing Aikido lies in the fact that each of us brings the entire sum of who we are onto the mat. Nothing truly is left behind. The idea to leave behind your day and your struggles as you take off your shoes is a nice one, but is it possible, truly? Every action we have taken, every internal and external event is carried within us, perhaps even on a cellular level. We are the sum of an entirety of causes up until this moment-- and we bring all of them to practice Aikido, or for that matter, anything. A tension in the shoulder, a fear of this or that, an inability to perceive a movement or, on the contrary, an ease in movement, a certain degree of relaxation-- all these are the result of karma. I use the word karma here to mean the entirety of who I am up until now, which includes genetics, upbringing, external events, and the possibility of past lives (who knows?). Another way to put it: I bring all my resistance as well as my desire to learn Aikido. How can it be otherwise? And if this is true, what hope is there for me to learn anything? For ultimately, I will always superimpose anything given to me with my own views, biases and limitations. For myself, the only hope lies in seeing my resistance, seeing my prejudices. If I can see these often enough, perhaps I can avoid falling into the same habits. There is no easy way. There is no "I've got it." There are moments of real encounters, real letting go. And then...my resistance, my prejudice, my ego is there. It always comes back. Perhaps, in time, it will be less and less- it will soften and not be so overbearing. But for now, if I really want to practice, to learn, I have to understand my resistance, my biases. I have to see accurately the sides of me that don't want to practice, don't want to learn, and that don't want to go along with what is shown. Looking for these sides is difficult, because they don't often want to be seen, and "I" really don't want to change, do I? So let's try and take a look at this more in our practice. New York, 2013 Ryugan

From the Magazine Parabola, Volume XIII, No. 1, February 1988. An interview with painter Paul Reyna

May 22, 2013

Question: Is struggle an element that helps bring force to a work? There needs to be a state of very alert and active receptivity in order to work as an artist, and at the same time it seems that there is an opposite movement needed in order to express that. Is there a contradiction here? Is it in the change from one to the other that the struggle comes in? Reynard: It seems to me that, on the contrary, it is very close. It is only at the moment that you are open that something is expressed. It is a rather mysterious process, because you can work and work for a long time and not find what you want. You come to a point where you seem to have exhausted all the possible means for this work, all the thoughts you have, all the emotion, in other words, you are finished. There's no more to say-- you are like a fruit that has been squeezed. And this moment is very important. It's the moment when you may open. All the necessary elements are present without any order. You are even at the point where you are ready to destroy what you have done. It is nevertheless a very precious moment, because it is then when something new may emerge, something which was in you but which you didn't know, you didn't see. And that is the real moment of expression. When I'm no longer trying to do something, I begin to feel I am led, as if my brush was just following a definite path. I am just following something which I merely initiated. At that point I am open to something which I was unable to express before when I wanted to direct it. And strangely enough the best moment, and the best result, is when I am here in front of the painting, and the hand is so to speak free. I am not imposing. At the same time it is me who paints. But it is as if I were following a kind of secret indication. I am no longer fighting. The struggle has taken place before this moment, when I was at the point of giving up. And if at that point I'm open enough, then something occurs, something completely new, something which seems to be true, something true in relation to what was within myself at that very moment.