Why Do We Bow?

I’ve noticed some inconsistencies with my students in terms of bowing, and this led me to think about bowing in general. I asked some of my students to write me a letter explaining to me what bowing means to them. Of course, that then made me take a closer look at what it means to me, and I wanted to share some of those thoughts. I spent more time thinking about a bow to a person, and not really about a bow to inanimate objects, but at some point I’d like to explore that as well.

In some ways bowing is purely a convention. When we signed up someone said bow this way, bow in this direction, etc., and we followed along to be a good student. The bow can become, over time, just another “thing” that we do, and maybe even become an affectation. We wear a certain outfit, we say certain words, and the meaning of much of it can become lost. Just putting our heads on the mat is a meaningless gesture in and of itself, and I think we should be wary of meaningless gestures. It’s my opinion that when we bow we should take a moment to reflect on why we are doing what we are doing. It’s up to us to infuse meaning in the things that we do, and the bow should be just such a thing. In a way, even holding a loved one is meaningless, but it’s the feeling that we convey through that action that has meaning to us. The bow should be infused with meaning as well, and spending some time thinking about it tends to do just that. I’ve been bowing for a number of years, but really only since I started this project with my students has the bow held as much meaning for me as it does now. Because I asked myself “why,” I kind of came up with an answer. Maybe not the best answer, but an answer that works for me, and that has given meaning to an otherwise meaningless gesture.

The bow in some ways allows us to train with each other unrestrained and unfettered. It’s certainly not helpful to practice any martial art completely out of control, but in order to stretch our abilities it is important to have a degree of freedom. The bow allows each person to say, in some way, that even though I’ll attack you with all I have, I mean it with a pure and sincere heart. I never intend to hurt you, my goal is not to be malicious or spiteful, but to give a sincere effort. In a way, the bow allows the attacker to have this kind of clear mind. It’s a chance to empty the mind of anger and aggression, and just attack from a pure heart. It gives each person a chance, a moment in real time to be open and receptive, so we can avoid slipping into competitiveness, malice and anger. It’s a way to recognize that the energized spirit of Aikido training isn’t a malicious one. It gives both partners a chance to say that I understand where you are coming from and there are no hard feelings.

I think a spirited and energized attack is a good one, because this helps my partner practice. A loose attack can be seen as condescending and only half-hearted, and maybe doesn’t really reflect the true nature of an attack. I don’t want to be hurt by someone’s attack, and I don’t want to hurt anyone with mine, but sometimes these things happen. When someone attacks and I don’t move fast enough and get hit, I like to know that the person’s intent was only to give me all they have. The bow, to me, accomplishes that goal. It let’s us say to each other, thank you for giving me your all and I know nothing you did was done with a mean spirit. I like this approach in general. If my partner attacks strongly and I can’t defend myself, well that certainly says something about my practice, doesn’t it? It’s a moment where I can reflect on my own training, my own intention in my practice and hopefully improve in a meaningful way. Certainly, this can be taken too far and be used as a way to suppress people, but if done with the right spirit this can be one of our greatest learning tools. But all of this is contingent on a person’s state of mind, and it is in the right state of mind that I think we need to make our bow.

I loved my Aikido teacher with all my heart, and he was a great mentor and teacher to me. But as I get older and I reflect on my training, I see that much of what I learned about Aikido was with my partners and not necessarily from my teacher. I feel as if my teacher put us on the path, and then we struggled to find the way. He never told us the way, he couldn’t reveal it to us even if he wanted to, but it was really through our personal discipline and training that helped us discover whatever there was to discover. Now these people I trained with were some of my closest friends, but in a way we would act as each other’s enemies. We would in some way play that role of aggressor, we would “push each other’s buttons” in a way in order to give a good challenge. Sometimes we would also go easy on each other because we didn’t want to push too hard, but these were never very satisfying classes. But more often than not we felt much more comfortable trying to take each other’s heads off then with anyone else because we knew it wouldn’t be misconstrued and we knew that’s exactly what the other person wanted. I knew that when I was absolutely pounded into the mat it wasn’t done out of malice or out of some need to dominate me, but really out of love. Even when things went wrong and someone got hurt, no one took it personally. We knew that there was inherent risk involved, and although we all did our best to limit that risk, it is inescapable. The bow, in a way, acts to absolve us of these mistakes and frees us up to train freely. The bow should have this same feeling in it that close friends would have when training together. A dedicated attack meant to re-create an aggressive attack, followed by a strong throw meant to incapacitate another person, and all done out of loving kindness, or at the very least out of a genuine desire to see the other improve.

Certainly, this kind of mental state doesn’t exist across the board, and many people bow and still act with malice. I’ve trained with people who I actively didn’t like and, in some way, wanted to hurt them to “teach them a lesson.” I bowed, but with some years to reflect on that, I see that the bow was totally empty. I’ve practiced with people who I knew meant to try and hurt me, but they bowed too. We bowed but there was no underlying understanding of comradery, love, or of mutual help; really just of ego and malice. This does happen too, and maybe in some ways can’t be avoided, but when we bow, I think we should try and take a minute to limit this very human instinct or at the very least to be aware of it. When we bow we can say to ourselves that we are here to help, here to serve this person, and even if they try and harm us that isn’t our intention to hurt them. No easy task, and one I have failed at many times, but to me this is one of the purposes of the bow. It’s easy to bow to a friend, but that’s not exactly real spiritual growth. Bowing to someone who you would prefer to harm, to humble yourself to someone who you know wants to harm you is a path for spiritual growth. It is in this moment of giving ourselves up, of giving in and letting go of our ego where we can begin to realize the spiritual path inherent in our Aikido training. I think we can practice this letting go each time we bow.

I do think that the bow is about showing respect, but maybe not just between senpai and kohai. It’s also about respecting this relationship between uke and nage; the attacker and the defender. There is a distinct imbalance of power in this relationship. Whenever there is an imbalance of power, those who have it need to respect this imbalance, and I imagine those who don’t should be aware of their position. The great thing about Aikido is that the balance forever shifts. Power and control shift, for the most part, between partners, so it’s harder maintain an imbalance. But with increased skill and experience it becomes easier to take advantage of this imbalance. An experienced Aikidoka can hold back their ukemi, and then really let loose when they are nage. When the experience is more equal, both parties have a natural respect for the other person. In a way, it’s an implied “I know you can take advantage of me so I won’t take advantage of you” kind of thing. But when it shifts to, “I CAN take advantage of you and you can’t take advantage of me” is when we need to look at the bow. I think we can take a minute when we say onegaeshimasu to be cognizant of this relationship dynamic. I frankly think that this is one of the hardest things to do for someone who has a big ego like me. But this is the practice, and it’s a worthwhile one. I’ve held back my ukemi countless times from a partner who wasn’t as experienced as I was. As a teacher I see this same habit in my students and I see how arrogant it truly is. I didn’t see it that way at the time, but I see it that way now. It’s a hard balance to maintain because of the nature of Aikido, and this is a larger topic then what I want to address here, but purely as a spiritual practice, an experienced Aikidoka should have the humility to take ukemi from someone much less experienced then they are. Or maybe better put, practicing having the humility to take ukemi from a less experienced person is a worthwhile practice. When we say onegaeshimasu and bow to our partners we can reflect on where we are in this complicated dynamic and not let ourselves be swept away by our egos.

In Buddhist meditation they teach us to open up to pain of all kinds. When we feel pain or suffering we tend to, as humans, recoil and tighten up. Meditation practice asks us to open up to that pain, to accept and receive that pain, to relax into it so we can fully see it for what it is. I’ve heard some teachers talk about bowing into the pain. When either physical or emotional pain arises, they ask us to look at that pain, bow to it, be friendly to it and thank it for being present at that moment. Bow to the pain and ask it what it has to teach us in a friendly way. I like this idea very much in relation to Aikido training. Pain in this case might just mean the tension that naturally arises between two people, and we can practice bowing into that, and asking what it has to teach us about ourselves. Practicing this kind of receptiveness to difficulties is a good practice in general and one that works well with Aikido training.

So the bow means many things, and can really mean anything we want it to mean, and these are just a few ways that bowing resonates with me. It is an agreement between two people to give their all, to try their hardest to get the most out of the other person, while at the same time agreeing to respect this relationship of uke and nage. It is a way to humble ourselves and agree to be in a weak position regardless of seniority or size. It is like a contract between two people that can allow for total freedom and total absolution at the same time.

When we bow, we should be doing it for some reason, for some purpose that doesn’t simply satisfy the rules and etiquette of a martial arts school. There should be some of us in that bow and it should communicate something to another person. What I think it wants to communicate is humility, compassion and sincerity of heart. It wants to communicate a sense of self-respect and self-pride that allows us to be humbled in font of others without feeling that it lessens us in any way, but in fact makes us greater. It can be a moment of clear reflection of mind and purpose that makes it clear exactly why we exist at that specific moment. It can be infused with love, with wonder and amazement at this remarkable specie that we are a member of and this great art we find ourselves training in. Whatever it means to any of us, it’s my belief that it should have some meaning. Take some time to think about it, take some time to mull, to meditate, to ponder, whatever word works for you and see what kind of meaning there is in it for you. I hope I have conveyed what meaning there is in it for me.