JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi by Daniel Linden (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

his wife, who is a sixth dan, were leaving the dojo one night and found three street punks sitting on their car. His wife is a very feisty woman and told the punks to get off, and one of them said something and the next thing that happened was the guy punched Sensei’s wife in the head.”

“Wow!”

“Yeah, well, the next thing that happened after that was Sensei coming over the trunk of that car and punching the guy that had hit his wife. I mean a good old-fashioned hay-maker, that’s what he did. It only took a fraction of a second for the two aikido masters to find their centers and present arms and when they did the punks took off running.”

“What specifically, was the lesson, Sensei? If you don’t mind explaining...”

Well, Celine, there were several things I picked up from that story. The first is that a 6th dan can get cold-cocked by a punk. You know, all that posturing by so many shihans is just that, posturing. Outside of the safe and controlled environment of a dojo, they aren’t Rambo, you know. They don’t get into street fights. And face it, most of us are either on one side of sixty or damn close to the other. Even F.B.I. agents have to retire at 57.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.” Chris looked surprised.

“Yeah, and not just them, DEA, Secret Service, all the federal agents have to retire by 57. Think the Fed knows something most people don’t? Timing, coordination, physical conditioning, eyesight, balance, all these things start to deteriorate with age. I don’t care how many willing ukes jump over your hand and then stare up at you with abject wonder from the mat, you’re still doing it in a dojo and with students who are trained by you to do just one thing perfectly...”

“Make you look good,” they all chorused. Then they laughed. So did I. It is what I tell every young student when I call them for demonstration for the first time. Their job is to make me look good. It always makes them laugh and relax and then they are no longer afraid of me.

“The second lesson I got from that story is that an 8th dan grand master reverted to a haymaker when he saw someone clobber his wife. Do I need to explain the significance of that?

“Look, before the war O’Sensei taught masters of other, deadly martial arts. Aikido was a way to defend while mitigating the killing power of the techniques these other masters knew. Then the war came, and the dojo was closed. In order for the Ueshiba family to re-open the family business they had to convince the Allies that it was merely for self defense. They made it much softer and such gentler. Doshu (heir to the family business) told me once that O’Sensei was shocked at how many people wanted to train at something like that, but you can’t knock success. O’Sensei grew old, the business took off like a rocket and now Hombu won’t even allow you to throw a punch in the dojo anymore, or so I’ve heard; at least not in atemiwaza, defense.

“So the result is that there are a million aikido people out there that believe they are training in a martial art and cannot save someone who is being abducted or attacked or molested. That is clearly not what O’Sensei wanted. So I took a cue from my old sensei and put up heavy bags and make you guys hit them 100,000 times before I will test you for your first black belt. What’s the result? Any one of my students can knock an attacker off their feet with a single punch, if need be.”

“Do you think the story was true?” Christian asked.

“That’s an odd question,” I said.

“Why? I mean there are a lot of stories that get told in martial art dojos that get all embellished with the telling. You know, like that crazy guy who told you his sensei had taught him 41 ways to strike a man and kill him dead. You remember him?”

“Yea,” I laughed. “I said, wow, your sensei killed 41 men? Then he said, no, of course not. Then I asked how in hell he knew that those blows would kill a man.”

“I remember that,” said Chris. “He left. He never came back.”

Christian said, “He’s probably an assassin for the C.I.A. and doesn’t use a gun.” After everyone stopped laughing he asked again. “Still, Sensei, I mean, stories get told.”

“Okay, I don’t know that it is a true story, although later his wife told me the exact same story. But what difference does it make? Teaching is hard. Teaching aikido is very difficult because you have to figure out a way to keeps someone interested in something for about 15 years, which is how long it takes to master it if you work hard. You have to keep them interested. I mean, come on, we only have a handful of techniques. We demonstrate them each a hundred different ways and even then it takes a remarkable teacher to keep people interested for 15 years. Each of us has his way. Some guys are stern and unapproachable, so they remain distant and mysterious. Some keep coming up with more and more variations. I tell sea stories. I tell stories about everything under the sun and you all know that eventually I will bring it back home and make a point and then you will understand something profound. It is the way I teach aikido.

“I use allegorical tales to transmit unknowable mysteries. My lesson is in there and sometimes buried so deep that I get phone calls in the middle of the night from students I haven’t seen in ten years who have just figured out what I was talking about and have called to thank me.

“Telling stories is how I keep