Wissen - Über Aikido Techniken


Ittaika

By Hiroshi Ikeda - 
Translated by Jun Akiyama, 
edited by Ginger Ikeda

Morihei Ueshiba, the founder of aikido, said that when he moved in a direction that was natural to him, his opponent had no other option but to do so as well. This is what we can call "ittaika" or "putting two bodies together as one".

When attacked, O Sensei, through his natural movement and exquisite "understanding" of the opponent, in some way formed a powerful connection that allowed him to affect his opponent's body as though it were a part of his own; both bodies became one under the founder's control. At that point, O Sensei could simply move, and his opponent would also be moved without having the opportunity to create any opposition. This is "aiki", perhaps one of the most influential and important aspects of aikido.

How can we hope to discover aiki for ourselves? How can we gain the finesse required to achieve ittaika? The search for the answer keeps us busy with our training year after year.

If you use your mind's eye, you can visualize yourself in a situation in which you are terribly off-balanced. Perhaps you are bending forward or backward at the waist, somewhat twisted, with arms awry and one leg out from under you. You are falling and at the last possible moment you manage to tenuously regain your balance by touching a post with one desperate finger. But then the post moves slightly, and you also half-move, half-fall to keep the tenuous contact with the post, your only hope of marginally maintaining your balance. In your compromised position, you have little choice, and instinctively you focus on the post. The post, your one hope of balance, keeps moving. The post is always upright and its balance is never compromised.

I think that this is the condition nage should strive to create for uke. Nage is controlling uke's direction and movement, and no force is needed! Causing uke to lose his/her balance and then giving him the briefest hope of recovery may provide an opportunity for ittaika. Within ittaika, there lies an option other than destruction and harm. With ittaika, there is the possibility of peaceful resolution. O Sensei defined aikido as the budo of love.

How do we attain ittaika at the first instant of engagement? Perhaps it is in the basics that at least part of the answer lies. Thoughtful experimentation and exploration of tenkan and irimi can yield important information about connecting with our partner, about our own balance and posture, about natural spiral forces and paths of least resistance. Facing a bokken or shinai can tell us much about entering and connecting. And ikkyo, the "lifetime technique", gives us limitless opportunities to study our behavior and that of our partner, with the goal of ittaika in mind. Without this, our aikido will be merely the practice of form.

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Oyowaza and Henkawaza

By Hiroshi Ikeda, translated by Jun Akiyama

"Does it really work?" The goal of any budoka is to be able to execute effective techniques.

In the challenging quest for effective technique, there are two Japanese words - ouyouwaza and henkawaza - which describe concepts essential to ensuring that "it really works".

In deceptively simple terms, ouyouwaza is the study of how to make a technique effective, or how to get the job done. It is akin to using a drinking glass to hold a flower, when no vase is available; or to seasoning a dish with soy sauce, when the salt shaker is empty. The aspect of adaptation and/or change is inherent in the definition of ouyouwaza, and a certain mindset is implied.

Henkawaza is somewhat more straightforward and refers to the study of how one technique changes into another - ikkyo into nikyo, for instance, or ikkyo into shihonage. Henkawaza comes into our training when we start to learn how to change spontaneously from one technique to another, when we realize when the first technique is not effective in a certain situation. For example, we may start one technique but realize that our partner is resisting - so we change our technique to use that resistance to transform the technique into something else.

Although we may not explicitly refer to these either of these two concepts during our budo training, chances are that all students have encountered both henkawaza and ouyouwaza through everyday practice.

One could say that ouyouwaza is the next phase beyond kihonwaza (basic techniques). It takes years to establish our base repertoire, learning to reliably execute the step-by-step, basic movements of kihonwaza -- ultimately to break free of them and engage in the intriguing prospect of "making budo work in a real-life situation." We all know that in a typical training session, our partner is, for the most part, cooperative and takes ukemi for us. However, when our partner or opponent decides to experiment with either muscle resistance or with "center," we have a rude awakening - "it doesn't work." In this situation, we have to be able to draw upon all that we have learned in order to make our techniques effective with non-cooperative partners.

Ouyouwaza and henkawaza overlap somewhat in meaning, both being techniques that cultivate the ability to think freely and move without constraint. In our chosen budo, we train for this open, fluid mindset through randori (freestyle) training, kumite (sparring) training, and shiai (competitive) training. The value of these practices is that they all require and reinforce flexible awareness, while demonstrating the fallacy of preconceiving specific techniques.

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On Katatedori

By Hiroshi Ikeda, edited by G. Ikeda

"Next, grab your partner's wrist..." is a common refrain heard in practically every beginner aikido class. Grasping a partner's wrist is such a simple move, akin to shaking hands or reaching for an object. Of all the movements we make, reaching out to connect with someone or something is one of the most familiar and comfortable. And of course this is precisely the reason katatedori is commonly used to introduce students to the intricacies of aikido.

The uke side
We should practice always with the goal of controlling our partner's center, as opposed to merely controlling his or her arm with superior muscle strength.

As beginners we stand face to face in front of our partners and reach for the offered wrist, working in a spirit of trust and not yet mindful of the more dangerous aspects of the art. We move easily and cooperatively, as we should at this point. In a short time, however, our bodies gain some knowledge of forms, and there is more room in our minds for new observations. That is when we realize, or when our teacher points out to us, that we are totally exposed and open to any manner of kick or punch from the partner whose wrist we are grabbing. This is a big problem.

So we must learn to combine the hanmi stance and the wrist grab, standing obliquely to the side of our partner while grabbing - still facing our partner, but from a protected position. At the same time we also realize that, just as the partner's free hand (or legs) can deliver a blow to us, so too, can our free hand or legs deliver a punch or kick or serve as an active defensive shield. We begin to adopt a more martial stance, a safer approach, when we perform katatedori.

Once we have learned how to grab from a protected position, we can next explore variations of the grab...either pulling, pushing or holding. After all, in a martial or street situation the grab is only the first step. It is used to hold or to draw the victim closer, in order to gain control. That accomplished, the next move could be a blow to the face or a choke or some other controlling move.

In the days of the battling samurai, a disarmed warrior had no choice but to grab the wrist of a katana-wielding opponent, in a lifesaving attempt to prevent the armed party from drawing his sword. If muscle strength alone were relied upon, obviously the stronger man would win, but the real test was who could gain control of the other's center. This involved an understanding of power on a deep level.

As we explore variations of katatedori, we should practice always with the goal of controlling our partner's center, as opposed to merely controlling his or her arm with superior muscle strength. As we grab the wrist, we should use a yonkyo-like grip that is backed up by connection to our own center. We must also learn to "get through" to our partner's center to create ittai, or the state of "one body". When we can do this quickly and effectively, the nage will be unable to perform a counter technique.

The nage side
...At this point, nage can then make a slight circular shift of the hips, connecting fully with uke's center, and creating ittai, or the state of "one body".

Going back to basics, when we assume the role of nage, allowing our partner to grab our wrist, we first learn how to irimi (enter) or to tenkan (turn). We are taught to move our arm in such a way as to either slip out of the grip or to stay within the grip, depending upon the particular lesson of the day.

In the beginning this seems pretty easy, until one day a linebacker of a student comes along and applies a grip commensurate with his size. The message our wrist sends us is, "I'm really stuck, and if you try to move, our arm will be broken off at the elbow." What a surprise - we can't tenkan; we can't irimi! This is because in the early stage of our practice, we have been merely training our bodies in the forms and the flow, and now we have encountered a partner who does not cooperate and whose strength exceeds ours.

Suddenly, irimi and tenkan, once familiar security blankets, have become the most difficult things in the world to do, and we have to start examining them all over again. Now we ask our partner to give us a tight grip, and we begin to try those small movements that help us "tie the hands together", to help us connect with our partner. In order to move, we must learn how to connect with uke, unbalance and weaken his or her grip - somehow bypassing and/or using their strength. In the process, we become very absorbed and caught up in the one connecting point - the grip uke has on our wrist. While such focus is a necessary part of the discovery process, we can't stop here. For one thing, by putting all our attention in one spot, we let our guard down elsewhere, leaving ourselves vulnerable to attack from another angle. And for another, for some reason, we still get stuck.

And then our teacher points out that we have forgotten the rest of our body. Oh. When we run, both arms and legs work in unison. When a tightrope walker performs, she uses both arms for balance. (And you might have noticed that the better the tightrope walker, the smaller and less perceptible are her counterbalancing arm movements.) When we do aikido, or any other martial art, we must remember to unify our body and make use of all our parts, eventually including our inner power. When one arm is grabbed, we must pay attention to using our free arm in ways that enhance our balance. And further, we must remember that our free hand is available for atemi.

Going back to our earlier of example of dueling samurai, the unarmed warrior would necessarily use a kosadori, or cross-hand grab, with his right hand attempting to immobilize the right (sword-wielding) hand of his opponent. The unarmed man's next move (in reality, everything would happen in one move) would be to get behind the swordsman, with the intention of choking him with his free, or left, hand/arm. This maneuver is known as kosadori ushirokubijime.

The swordsman (nage) would properly be holding his saya with his left hand and the hilt of his katana with his right. While he deals with the attack on his right hand, the position of his left hand, near the center of his body, serves to stabilize and balance him.

In order not to be overcome, at the instant the unarmed warrior (uke) grabs for nage's wrist, nage must twist his right hand in such a way as to place the attacker's hand (and arm and body) in a slightly unnatural position, so that he instinctively wants to reposition it. If nage is successful, he has rendered uke just uncomfortable enough so as to compromise uke's strength, balance and concentration, while avoiding separation. At this point, nage can then make a slight circular shift of the hips, connecting fully with uke's center, and creating ittai, or the state of "one body". In ittai, uke simply cannot escape, nor can he attack further, and nage can then resolve the conflict.

The intrigue continues...
Katatedori and its variations are deceptively simple, especially to the casual observer and the newcomer. As with all forms, the more we delve into body mechanics and the more partners we "confront", the deeper our level of discovery becomes. While we can write about ideas to further our progress, it is simply impossible to describe the information that we get through the sense of touch. Testing and experimenting with katatedori on the mat may eventually give us a glimmer of O'sensei's vast understanding.

Back to the beginning!


At One With Weapons

By Hiroshi Ikeda,
 with translation assistance from Jun Akiyama

A myriad of martial arts has proliferated over the centuries and around the globe, leading countless individuals in pursuit and enjoyment of these various arts. Almost all of the martial arts employ weapons of one type or another.

An accomplished practitioner does not simply swing or brandish a weapon; instead, s/he "masters" the weapon and uses it as an extension of the body, much as a tiger uses its powerful forearms and claws.

In karatedo and aikido, among other arts, certain movements using the empty hand are identified: seiken (straight punch), nukite (spearhand thrust), shomenuchi (strike to the head) and yokomenuchi (strike to the side of the head). By forming a "tegatana" (hand blade) or "ken" (fist), one can transform one's hand into a formidable weapon by learning to focus intent and concentrate power in the hand.

This same channeling of power must occur when wielding a weapon, regardless of its size, length, or weight. One must develop an intimate familiarity with the weapon, its physical properties and how one's body relates to it. Achieving a state of mastery, in which a foreign object becomes wholly integrated with one's being, obviously requires a great deal of sensitivity, awareness, and dedicated practice. ¹

Kyudo, the Japanese art of archery, beautifully illustrates the unification of the individual, the weapon, and the target. When all become connected, the arrow looses itself and flies into the center of the target. This is an example of progressing past the "moving" aspect to the "quiet" place. When one connects the weapon, the bow and arrow, to one's body and when one extends that spirit from one's body to the target itself, when everything becomes aligned and connected, the arrow will fly true.

All weapons, including the katana, jo, bo, yari, and naginata, must channel the strength which emanates from the practitioner's center. This will lead to the weapon's becoming "alive" and a part of one's being.

If this all sounds improbable, remember that we occasionally have the privilege of witnessing spine-tingling, breathtaking examples of mastery and perfection - sometimes on the mat, or perhaps at a musical performance, or on the playing field. When it happens, it is unforgettable.

We ourselves may experience fleeting moments of unity and harmony in our own weapons training. At that time of true connection, our weapon becomes a reflection of ourselves, a mirror for our feelings and emotions and strengths.

¹ Mastery is equated with facility. In Japanese, we use a word that translates poorly into "freedom." In this example, mastery might be defined rather ironically as freedom (dexterity and skill) through exquisite control.

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