July 2014
Finished my annual Aikido season(6 months)
in June, disappointed in myself and the club. I was hoping to do another grading but was messed around with the
recommendation. I had discussed the recommendation at the start of my season (Jan) and I thought it was approved.
Unfortunately he wasn’t present to sign my papers the week before grading
and didn’t turn up to the grading. Having to run around to find someone to sign
on the day was quite embarrassing. I felt a discrimination and treated with no
regard. I had not organised anyone else. Considering I arrange my timetable to attend his class weekly, I would
expect some respect as an adult and having trained with this club for over
15yrs, known them 25 yrs. Respect due would be to discuss
the matter. I wont be attending his classes again. I train regularly, at least
twice a week for double classes. For the last month before the grading, I trained
up to 4 times a week, double classes.
Aikikai has a weird way of grading people.
You have to put yourself forward and request to grade. No-one encourages you
and most feedback is derogatory rather than beneficial. I wonder if that’s the
way of the warrior, being a masculine domain. I consider myself quite
proficient at this martial art. Often when I train with people I feel they
perform the orchestrated movements but have no control over their uke (opponent).
Admittedly, to perform Aikido, there needs to be a degree of co-operation. It is not a self defence or for street
fighting. It is truly an art form derived from the battle field of samurais
with swords. I guess that’s what I love about it; capturing people’s energy and
disposing of them. I look for the martial, control and combat in the
techniques. I feel in control.
Went to Mount Hotham weapons training in
April 2014
A poem for the Hotham sunrise training
And so once again upon mountain summit
the warriors swing swords and strike sticks
in
orchestrated combat for glory of the samurai
slicing thru the clouds along forsaken
ground
ascending, descending over clumps of grass,
furrows
perhaps stepping over burrows
in
chase of their uke
who’s at their swords mercy
They brave the cold and dark ending night
trampling through the breath of a blowing wind
to roost
in silent meditation
hoping for a glimpse at the sungod’s wake
of day
But the fog smothers the dawn peek into a
bed of smoke
upon a sheltered slope we engage in pretend
battle
aikidoka dont bear their chest this year
rather shed the coldbite
sipping delightful red wine
reminince in the cosy shelley
