Becoming Clean

I was thinking last night how many things students hope to get out of Aikido. It seems as if those people who come into a dojo with all kinds of expectations are the first ones to quit. I imagine that the more expectations one has the more likely it is that they will be disappointed. They become disappointed because they don't know how to achieve their goals and their goals are often unrealistic for the kind of person that they are. What I mean is that if my goal is to out play Kobe Bryant in a game of one-on-one, although an admirable goal, I need to first asses what kind of basketball player I am. Considering I'm short, never played basketball on a team, and I have bad knees I'd imagine my chances of reaching this goal are limited. That doesn't mean that it isn't a good goal, is just means that I should be aware of reality.  The point of this writing is to help people understand what it is they should expect from their Aikido training so their expectations can match with reality. 

What strikes me as odd are the kinds of expectations people have of Aikido and of martial arts in general.  What I tend to hear most from new students, the ones who come in with lots of expectations, is that they want to lose forty or fifty pounds, or they want to become "one with the universe." I imagine Aikido could help on the path to either of these lofty goals, but what would appear obvious is that Aikido alone will not do.  The goals are fantastic, losing weight through physical exercise is a great thing, but then reality needs to come in. We know that physical exercise along with a healthy diet help in weight loss but if you're taking in 4000 calories a day and burning off 200 through exercise, weight loss is impossible.  The point is that an accurate assessment of one's reality is vital.  

The analogy I thought of last night was that the dojo is like a cleansing bath. If approached diligently and with constant effort, Aikido and the Aikido dojo can serve as a means to scrub clean students from the muck and mire associated with daily life. Zazen, Insight Meditation and other forms of buddhist meditation I see the same way and all of these pursuit tend toward the same goal. So when a new student comes to me and says that they want to lose forty pounds or they want to feel the spirituality inherent in Aikido I think that they are in the right place. But what I find interesting is that these students, almost exclusively those with impossibly high expectations often do little to help affect a change. It would appear that showing up at the dojo, paying the small amount a dojo charges for its fees, and putting on a clean white gi is enough. Of course, this couldn't be further from the truth. 

So to get back to the cleansing bath metaphor, these students come in for a class and because of the years spent immersed in the world they are covered with this muck and mire that cannot be washed off in one quick rinse as it were. Imagine rolling around in oil and dirt, and sticky syrups and trash and then, for an instant, letting water fall on your face. The years of misuse of the body can't be changed, cannot be washed clean with one superficial rinse. So the new student goes home and says to himself that this Aikido stuff doesn't work, this teacher can't teach. They see they are still covered in the slime of humanity and walk away from Aikido. Or maybe they stay for a little while, and after a few months of training their skin just starts to show underneath the infinite layers of sludge that have collected, and the first thing they do with this clean feeling is jump right back into the cesspool from which they came.  And they look at their bodies and say to themselves that this Aikido stuff doesn't work, this teacher can't teach, I'm still covered in slime. 

The perception seems to be that Aikido, that meditation and that teachers are somehow magical and that it is they, it is this combination of elements that will scrub students clean of their lives. Of course this is a silly thing to think. No teacher I have ever had was magical. They were amazing and inspirational and infinitely talented but this was through their diligent effort toward a goal and not in some gift. What I learned from my teachers is that this constant effort, this clear view of a path and a dedication toward that path is what will help make us feel clean and new and alive. 

This is not magic. Hard work is not magic, but somehow this has become the perception. We tend to look at healing in this country, spiritual or physical, as a process by which we have no involvement. We have become pill takers, and the very idea of a pill removes us from the illness. Of course I am in no way undermining modern science or the great advancements we've made in pharmacology, I might just take an ibuprofin later, but this pill takes away my connection with the pain. The pain is mine, caused by me and relating exclusively to me. When I take a pill it becomes someone else's problem. If I'm still in pain I can say to myself this ibuprofin stuff doesn't work. When perhaps what would be better for me in a larger context is to try and understand my pain, where does it come from, what am I doing to cause myself pain; this is what I mean by being involved in an illness. 

To avoid this kind of separate existence where there is my life that I live, and then there is me we try to connect these two things through our training. That my life, my goals, my fear and my pain are about me and only me is connecting these parts is part of our struggle. If I hope to find peace with these things then the answer must lie within me, and this is what teachers try to help us see. They try to help a student find the answer for themselves; this is not magic. The answer, at least my answer is through this process of Aikido and meditation. Through this effort the dojo scrubs people clean of the stresses of life, of the slime of pain and helps them to feel clean and free. One rinse won't do. Paying dues and buying a gi won't do. If one hopes to gain the infinite benefits of their training they must immerse themselves fully into it. They must scrub their bodies, get covered with soap, soak in hot water and let the dirt of life slowly drift away. Once clean then we maintain this feeling by regular training and not by then immersing ourselves in the very thing that made us feel dirty in the first place. 

Of course I am talking about spiritual cleanliness and not physical but it is no different. If we fill our heads with negativity for years and years and then spend one hour trying to be at peace this will not work. Sitting quietly for ten minutes will do little to restore the spirit's natural health. This would appear obvious to me, it would appear obvious that if we hope to become clean then we must dedicate ourselves in some way. It's remarkable how many people are unwilling to do this or therefore unable to accomplish their goals. 

 

When I say dedicated training I want to be clear that this is not the kind of hyper masculine version of dedication that we see on TV. This isn't the kind of dedication that makes us servile and weak, but that instead empowers us beyond imagining. I don't ask my students to become monks, I ask them to let Aikido principles become the central theme of their lives, but not their lives per se. It isn't the kind of cultish dedication that demands everything from you, but a dedication in purpose and intent.  We can live a life that looks on the outside like a regular, "modern" life, but that doesn't mean that our spirits need to become weak and filthy. We pursue family, career, friendships and passions but we do it with a clarity of purpose, with an understanding of self and a sense of peace and belonging that we get through our diligent efforts. This is not magic, this is not fantasy but the results of effort. 

So when students come to me and say that they want to lose weight or they want to becoming spiritually whole I sometimes worry for them. I worry that with this expectation comes a kind of separation that will keep them from achieving anything. They have a goal but seem to lack an understanding of how to achieve that goal, and when I tell them they are unsatisfied. They don't want to hear that through diligent training they can find some peace, that by directing their lives toward exercise and healthy eating they can lose weight. They want me to wave my magic wand and make them all better. I of course don't have this power, and even if I did I wouldn't use it. When they quit I can't help feeling some resentment toward them. I look at the scars I have that represent the hours of training and I resent how little some people are willing to put in. They want everything but are unwilling to go through anything. They want the loftiest possible goals, but can't seem to take the first step toward it and then blame Aikido, blame me for not getting them where they want to be. 

So I sit on my couch thinking how great it would be to beat Kobe in a game of basketball and I don't do anything but sit and dream. Maybe one day I go to a basketball school, take a class, see how terrible I am at basketball and then quit. I blame the coaches, I blame the entire sport for my failing having never accomplishing anything, never getting anywhere, just reinforcing the destructive habits that limit my thinking and limit my life. My advice to students is that if you want to play basketball go and play basketball, don't worry too much about any goals beyond that. If someday you play Kobe then good luck to you, but in the mean time dedicate yourself to the path; play everyday.