Wisdom of the Day 20100603
The family is the most fundamental unit in society. If it is ruled by peace and human values, then not only will parents live happily and free of tension, but their children and grandchildren will too, and even generations after that. If they have a religious faith, their children will naturally be drawn to this. If they speak politely to each other and behave "ethically", love each other and have mutual respect, If they help those in need and show concern for the world around them, it is highly likely that their children will follow suit and become responsible people.
On the other hand, if the mother and father are continuously fighting and insulting each other, if they just do whatever comes into their heads without thinking of others, then not only will they never be happy themselves, but their children will inevitably fall victim to their influence.
"Ethically"
To behave ethically, in the Buddhist sense that the Dalai Lama is referring to here, means to refrain from doing anything that might harm others.
The Dalai Lama
My views on Aikido
The path of Aikido is very unique. It is not suited for everyone. Only people with a strong, open mind will succeed in learning the way of Aikido.
Aikido is very technical. It is not for us to learn how to brawl, inflicting injury to someone, nor is it a way of killing. On the contrary, Aikido is the way of peace. Even though, we learn techniques that enable us to do all of the above, Aikido is concentrating on relaxing and to practice control over yourself, your knowledge, and skills.
This is very hard at first. Some people learn and get the point quicker than others. This is totally normal and has nothing to do with being smart or not so smart. Everyone of us has a different background and upbringing. Some of us were even born with some kind of a natural aggression and some of us were born to be very passive, and peaceful by nature.
In all of my twenty-fife years of practicing Aikido, I came across all kinds of personalities. Each one is different and unique. Aikido is also not designed to make everyone into the same person. That would be impossible. Aikido is giving us the tools and choice to form the person we really want to be. For example; a natural aggressive person might not like him/herself the way they are, or a timid person has the same feelings. Aikido is only bringing out in you the person that you would like to be. Sometimes, through a lot of practice, it just happens without you even trying. If someone tries too hard, it will only take longer to reach the point of change.
Embarking on a journey into unknown territory requires steely courage, an adventurous spirit, a deep belief in oneself and simple hope for a better tomorrow.
Marcy Blochoviak
If we don't already have all of those qualities, Aikido will teach us through physical practice to obtain them without having to try too hard. We will learn how to change a negative situation into a positive one. Aikido will also free us from bad ego. I am saying "bad ego" because there is good and bad ego. To try to rid oneself of ego is not the way to go. One has to realize or learn to recognize the difference between the good and the bad ego and hold on to the good ego in order to become confident and even at peace with oneself.
Before we will recognize a bigger picture of Aikido, we have to start recognizing the real small ones first. We have to take it little by little, step by step in order to get to a bigger picture.
I don't remember how many years ago, at a Summer-camp in DC, I didn't feel very good one day and decided to skip a class or two in the morning and stay in the dojo. Classes were held at the Catholic University. The dojo was empty and quiet, when all of a sudden I heard some noise. I got up and looked around. Saotome Sensei came out of the house with a huge roll of rice-paper, brushes and ink. I offered to help carry some of it and he told me to get some paper-towels which I gladly did. He spread out the paper on to the mat, opened the ink-bottle and set it on some paper-towels. I stood back of off the mat to see what he was going to do when he turned around and invited me to come and sit. I gladly did because by now, I had figured out that he was going to do some calligraphy.
He started, and after two or three strokes, looked at it, shook his head, and tore off the part he did. He wadded it up and through it aside. I just set there not saying anything. He started over again. This time, he tore it up after the first stroke. Same thing, tore it off of the roll, wadded it up and through it aside. This went on for several hours. I was sitting in the middle of wadded paper and the pile got bigger and bigger. I thought that he was trying to bury me in paper. The calligraphy was quite long and he was finally done. He signed it and put his stamps on it and took another look at it. He shook his head and started to tear it off when I tried to stop him. I was silent for all those hours just watching but could not bear to see him destroy this beautiful piece of art. He explained to me that the last two strokes are not perfect and that it is bothering him. He also went over the whole calligraphy with me explaining why this was done this way and that was done that way and why the last two strokes were not to his liking. He started all over again. This time, I had a little more inside to what he was doing and understood, well, somewhat, why he kept starting over and over again. Finally, it was done. He looked at it and knotted. Sensei told me to fetch two clean stones from the rock-garden and I did. He placed them on each corner on the bottom of the paper so it wouldn't roll up. "We let dry now" looking at me. His face started to have a question mark and I thought that I knew him well enough to know what he was asking. I said "no Sensei, I didn't get bored." He nodded and walked to the house. The calligraphy Sensei made was a gift to the guest-instructor, an old master who came all the way from Japan. I don't remember what it said.
Needless to say, I had skipped more classes then I had planned on. I did make it to the last class of the day. What I didn't realize was that I had received a lesson in patients that would last me for the rest of my life. No lectures, books, or spoken words could have taught me what Saotome Sensei has given me in one day.
The samurai study calligraphy and now I know why, to steady their hands and to practice patients. At least this is what I think.
In Aikido, there is always room for improvement. It never ends. As soon as we think that we have mastered a technique, I assure you, we will make some kind of adjustment. The learning of Aikido will go on and on.
Doris
Training in the Old Ways
Tomodachi,
I have stayed away from developing relationships with entrepreneurial sensei who have commercialized, diluted, and to an extent corrupted the old and traditional martial art systems. The topics of philosophy, theology, strategy, poetry, and art no longer seem to be taught in any of the ryu I have visited. Fighting and physical force seem to be the only options on the self-defense menu. They merely seem to focus on the physical aspects of the martial arts, competitions, and mixing components of martial arts for more progressive forms of competition.
Aside from Aikijudo-Jitsu, there are but a few exceptions I know of: Morihei Ueshiba's Aikido, and those remaining Aikido dojos with a strong and direct connection to the Hombu dojo in Japan, and some Judo dojos that are staying true to Jigoro Kano's system.
I believe there are still sensei today that are legitimate Shodan practicing within other systems—Shodan of old—dedicated to maintaining the old ways with virtue and integrity. I suspect they are like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. This is very saddening to me because many of the old masters are either now existing in their next life, or they are close to it. We are but a generation away from being disconnected permanently from our heritage, culture, and cherished traditions.
I'm sure you have heard many fables and stories of how it was in the old days, but I would like to give you an insight into how it really once was. I think it might help provide a different perspective for you; and possibly hope of finding what you are looking for.
Let's go back about 500 years. Put me in a dojo in a small town, at about the age of 40. I am the sensei. The dojo was constructed with money donated by the parents of my students, or perhaps an endowment. My students provide for all of my needs in exchange for training. And then one day you show up, about 12 years old, and ask for training. If I accept you as a student, you will spend the next 20 or 25 years training at my side every day.
You will spend several months working on a single
technique. You will perform chores to learn patience, humility, and to
build up your strength. 
You will spend hours upon hours in study of
philosophy, theology, poetry, art, general studies, and strategy. Eventually you will assist me in teaching the younger students. Once you
reach age 35, and if I feel you are the right man, I will call you out among
all other students.
I will be dressed to the 9's in my ceremonial kimono and hakama. We will square off on the mats, bow, and say "onagaishimasu." I will then present you with a very thick bound book, or series of scrolls. It is time for you to go, and I have given you a copy of the dojo's complete training materials. You are ready to go and start your own (franchised) dojo with instructions issued, and promises made to keep the traditions and training methods the same as you were taught. This is what it means to be Shodan.
It is not the end of your training by any means. It is merely the beginning, as it was for me back in 1989.
I was fortunate to live the modern-day equivalent of the story
above. I have stated in the past that I felt like I lived the Karate Kid scenario, but that is only partially accurate. In truth my dojo was situated atop a hill covered with 3' of prairie grass; not a building in a small Japanese village. I can still remember standing on top of the hill waiting for Manuel, close to dusk, with a nice breeze blowing through both my hair, and the tall prairie grass. That is a memory that I will always cherish. I remember wishing to stay in that moment for the rest of my life.
My sensei was a true master who trained in, and stayed true to the old ways. I reflect quite often on how very fortunate I
was to have been invited by Manuel to train. At the end of my
last day with him, before I shipped out to Navy boot
camp, Manuel came bounding out of his basement with his arms full. He
carried several books on philosophy and martial arts and put them in my
car. He gave me a hug, smiled, and I asked him, "How can I repay you
for all you have done?" He smiled very big and said, "you don't owe me anything; just pass
along what I have taught you in the same way." He winked at me, and
then he left. This was in July of 1982.
I did not realize it at the time, but that was the moment he retired. He passed the torch to me. Aikijudo-Jitsu Ryu is my tribute to Manuel, and it is my promise to him to be true to, and to keep the old ways alive.
Onegaishimasu!
Troy M. Wussow
Aikijudo-Jitsu™
April 9, 2010