Northern Wind

Based on my own training over the years as well as observing the training of other students, it seems like there is sort of a three-step progression that occurs. What I Am Doing? When we first start out, our focus is mainly on our own bodies. We learn what our feet should be doing, what our hands need to do. We practice our positions, memorize certain choreography, learn terminology, get accustomed to a new culture. For the beginner, it's actually okay that they don't necessarily have kuzushi or off balance, that their timing is off. Build the plane first, then fly it. Defend It's also a time when we focus on what to do when we find ourselves in the midst of conflict, which is to say, defending ourselves, just staying alive. What HE/SHE Is Doing? Once we get the hang of all that, we can begin to think about the meaning behind it. When I do a given technique with all the appropriate footwork and hand positions, what is that supposed to do to uke? Sure, up u...

I've heard the expression "slow is fast, fast is slow" for many years as I've trained. Frankly, I always thought I understood what it meant. And I did—do—but I guess my understanding of it has broadened. Sorry, but I don't have time to go into all of it right now (I know you were just dying to know), but I thought I would share an interesting visual example of this particular maxim, one you can try for yourself and even demonstrate to a class. All you need is a piece of scrap paper and a pen or pencil. Your task is to draw as straight a line as you can over and over, 10 times. First, do it as fast as you can. Then do it again, but go as slow as you can. Below is the result of my attempt: Quite a difference, huh? The first bunch of lines is fairly scattered and broad, while the second batch is not only pretty consistent with smaller variability, it's also darker, or more intense. Bare in mind, that I'm a graphic designer and illustrator by trad...

Over the years, I've seen a number of various methods for breaking up the monotony of training. Many work just fine, although probably only as a once in a while practice just to shake things up. Some, well, I've always thought could use some fine tuning. I had a professor in college who always pressed us to make the best use of our time rather than just waiting around and then complaining when we ended up feeling rushed in the end. That attitude has carried over into many aspects of my life, and budo classes are no exception. I'm not very fond of doing a lot of standing around and chatting (except when I'm tired, then I'll kill time with the best of them!) We only have an hour to an hour and a half, I feel we ought to make the most of it, right? One method I've always had reservations about is the throwing line. Essentially, you have one person at a time doing a technique over and over to a line of uke's, one after the other. When you've thrown the...

Holy smokes, it's been a while since I've posted anything! My latest excuse has to do with the lack of a car. We sold one, and until we bought another I had to bum rides to work, which meant that I couldn't get to morning classes for a while. And if I don't make it to class, I guess I don't have much to think about regarding budo. Now, we have another car finally, and I've been back to class for a couple of days. But even from those couple of days, a couple of things have popped in my head. 1) Everyone  has something to teach you. I've probably said it before, and you've probably heard it before, but never, ever, ever let your rank, whatever it is, make you think for one split second that you don't have something to learn from every person you meet. On Wednesday, my first day back in a while, I worked with a brown belt (the only other person to show up) who had once trained under a very, very accomplished judoka. I let him do most of the tal...

I don't know how it works at your dojo, but at Windsong Dojo, there has always been a policy that everyone ranked shodan or above (or yudansha ) is given a key to the dojo. You see, there are no teachers assigned to teach given classes. Here, whichever person attending class that day has the highest rank by default leads that class. In many cases, that's usually the same person, but not always. And many times, the regular class leader won't be able to make it, which means someone else will have to run the show. And as long as a black belt is present, class can be held. So, rather than have a bunch of students standing around outside waiting for one or two people to show up, each black belt has a key to let everyone in. It's an amazing display of trust on the part of the dojo cho that, as far as I know, has yet to be broken or abused. The other week, we promoted a student to shodon in our morning aikido class. He now has a key, and being an early riser, no longer...

"Patience. I need more of it—and fast !" So the old line goes. And as another old line goes, "It's funny because it's true ." In fact, it reminds me of the old " Tae Kwon Leap " skit. And when most of us in the martial arts world think about struggling with patience, we think of Ed Gruberman: the impatient beginner, the guy who wants to know how to trash some bozos now . It sounds almost cliché, but it's odd, and even a little sad, how often I actually run into students in the dojo struggling with patience. They may not be as much of a jerk as Ed, mind you. Sometimes, they're nice, well-meaning people. It's just that they're in way too much of a hurry. They always want to move on to the next technique, they want to do what their higher rank peers are doing before they're ready. Or they immediately question what you're trying to teach them. You know, "Well, so-and-so said you do it this way..." or question whether ...

The Gracie family has a series of videos called Gracie Bullyproof that's designed to teach young kids ju-jitsu. As a father of two young kids who are fast approaching school age, I'm seriously getting a hold of these. The video below is a sample from the introduction that teaches the parents how to teach their little kids. Frankly, I think this little segment alone is really, really good advice on teaching anyone , young or old.

I once heard that the ideal model for learning something should follow a basic "hear it, see it, do it" format. In other words, hear a verbal explanation, watch it being done (probably several times) and then do it yourself (definitely several times). In my own experience teaching, I've spent a lot of time thinking about the first step. Here's a few things I've come to realize about this stage over the years, both from my own experience, and also by observing the many wonderful teachers I've had the opportunity to learn from. 1) Keep it short. I'm constantly trying to find the best way to describe to people what's going on in the most succinct way possible, while at the same time trying to avoid getting too verbose and veering off onto tangents. The less time I talk, the more time we all have to practice, and that's the important thing. Again, I'm of the Elvis mindset: "A little less conversation, a lot more action". 2) Repeat it thre...

I'm constantly amazed at what pops out of my mouth sometimes while I'm teaching and working with someone. Evidently, there are lessons learned rattling around in my noggin that I wasn't totally aware of. Typically, they come to light when someone asks a question. Forced to answer it, you open your mouth, start jabbering, and voila, an answer (or two) spring forth. Inwardly, I'm as surprised as if a parrot has just flown out of my mouth. Outwardly, of course, I try to maintain my poker face and act as if I've known the answer for years; that's a crucial element in maintaining the aura of the wise martial arts master. I'm still working on catching flies with chopsticks, however. I'm also surprised to think about where that knowledge actually came from. Sometimes, it's untraceable, but other times I can trace it back to the source, which vary widely. And it's not always my teachers, oddly enough. Sometimes, I watched someone else do it; sometimes I...

Before the birth of my first child, a friend recommended a book to me that proved to be invaluable during the first 8 months to year of my son's life. It taught parents 5 simple steps to help calm a colicky baby (those who cry for reasons other than the usual, such as hunger, the need for sleep, a dirty diaper, etc.) The problem was, in order to make a full book—and in order to make the money a full book makes—the author (and editors, probably) packed it full of fluff. What I could give to another person in the span of a ten minute conversation was inflated into a 300 page door stop. I seem to be encountering a lot of that lately. I started reading a book tonight on the subject of aikido and quickly became both lost and bored. Philosophy can be like that, too. Religion, how-to books, self-improvement, etc. Volumes of words that do nothing but confuse me more. I ask questions (both relating to budo and otherwise) of those who would know, and get paragraphs of what is, to my mind, gi...

A while ago, I posted a request on the Kaze Uta Budo Kai / Windsong Dojo forum for any of the dan grades to submit what they've learned about being a teacher. Here's a few ideas that came up: Less is more . In other words, I try to distill what I'm trying to convey in as few words as possible and avoid the dreaded "verbal diarrhea" that so often accompanies the accumulation of knowledge. What's the old adage about the way humans learn best? Hear it, see it, do it. I would imagine that there ought to be less emphasis on the "hearing" end and more on the "doing" end of that spectrum. I also try not to overload students (particularly white and green belts) with too much information all at once. One or two things to work on for a class is usually plenty; the rest will come in time, and probably from someone else. Bite size pieces. Kaizen is the Japanese idea of small, continuous improvement. Build on success , as Nick has often said. Sure, a g...

I read this post over at Johndo and I couldn't help but feel a bit of a twinge when I read of one student's experience attending another dojo. One sentence in particular leapt out at me: "...During some move, the instructor who was teaching laughed at her. Now this was completely innocent as the instructor was, I'm sure, reminiscing about a time when he first started and struggled with [the same thing] as we all do, but little seemingly harmless gestures can be disconcerting to new students. There were one or two times I can remember where [my teacher] chuckled and I felt inept at whatever we were going over at the time, even though I know that was not his intention. We as instructors need to remember to be concious of how unnerving it can be for someone new to a class and remember how awkward it was for some of us when we first started." I twinge because I'm almost certain I've done that at one time or another, without giving it much thought. And there ...