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how I haunted my summer vacation
Fujikiri festival 2010
Kyoto, Nara, and Yagyu Village (spring 10)
英語写真

Somewhere Between Groucho and Karl

I have a sort of kinship with old Japanese men. Don’t ask me why or how, but most of the time we seem to understand one another. Especially Jolly Old Dude who lives next to the local grocery and always stops me on the sidewalk. “Where you going?” he asks every time without fail. “Shopping,” I reply. “Shopping?!” he guffaws, then has to sit down on his porch or face taking a spill due to overexerted laughter. Jolly Old Dude and I? We get along.

Aikido practice has been interesting lately because there’s a seminar/examination coming up in about a week, so Misawa Sensei has been splitting us into groups of two or three to practice the subject matter on our respective tests. This puts me in an awkward situation because I already understand the material for the next few exams, but I haven’t put in the hours required to qualify for them. The teacher man knows this, and so I frequently wind up paired off with one of the black belts and asked what I want to do. It’s nice because I can request basics and they’re happy to oblige.

On Tuesday, though, I ended up with one of the more intriguing members of our club. This gentleman is in his seventies and has been practicing martial arts for most of his life. I’m more or less accustomed to being launched through the air by old people, but this was probably the first time that a senior citizen asked me to throw him. The guy still works as a farmer, which blows my mind. Needless the say, this fellow had been around the block a few times when it comes to aikido.

He would show me a technique, then have me do it to him a few times, then we’d move on to something else. We discussed why certain maneuvers are easier to learn than others, then he asked what I wanted to study in Japan and I said, “Old fashioned martial arts, but they don’t really exist in our prefecture.”
“What are you talking about? I have a second degree black belt in Daito style aikijujutsu.”
“Wait, what?!”
“Yeah, man, I’ve done all kinds of stuff. I used to do judo, too.”
“In high school?”
“In my sixties.”

During a typical training session we’ll work on three or four different movements, drilling them over and over, but my elderly tutor opted to do each one only a few times, then say, “Well, that’s too easy. Let’s move on.” By the end of the night he said, “…and that’s aikido. There are some other techniques, you know, and weapon stuff, but that’s about the size of it.” He struck me as a no-nonsense type of guy, so I asked him a question that’s been on my mind of late.
“What’s the difference between judo’s kuzushi (崩し topple or unbalance) and aikido’s aiki (会気 lit. ‘gather energy’)?”
“Uhhh… it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Well, there you go.

3 comments to Somewhere Between Groucho and Karl

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