JOURNEY - on Mastering Ukemi (10 page)

And Jake came up off that floor. All six feet and seven inches of him came up and launched itself at Ron and in that single instant I saw terror in Ron’s eyes and realized that he was no more than a coward in a bully’s body. But he was a trained coward, and he turned Jake’s fist away and took him over his shoulder and into Jake’s first perfect break fall. Jake no more than touched the mat when he bounced up lightly to his feet and sent a slashing hook at Ron’s head. Ron had to block it hard and then a kote gaishi sent Jake’s feet high up into the air. Higher and higher they seemed to rise until he was stretched out all the way and then suddenly, like a cat, he had spun, turned over and fallen smoothly to the mat in as soft and pretty a break fall as had ever been seen there. But Jake’s rage and years of frustration were not quieted yet. Over and over he slashed, punched and lunged to get at Ron. And he was not attacking for the sake of training… he was trying to kill Ron, that was certain. Over and over Ron threw him until finally he was truly spent and then in a moment I will never forget we drew together, and putting our collective arms around him, we all cried.

Five grown men, sweating and exhausted, bound together, for those minutes at least, by one man’s courage and will to overcome a lifetime of fear; we stood like that until we were through. Then Jake walked away.

I saw him only twice after that, or so it seems to me, now. It might have been more, but over thirty years have passed and I no longer remember. I do remember he came back to class a few nights later and while we took a break he told us excitedly about the woman he had met through an ad in the newspaper and the symphony seats they would share for the coming season. He apologized that he would have to miss a few classes, but we encouraged him nonetheless. The last time I saw him was when he came by to let us all know he was getting married.

Jake never got his black belt. He never finished his aikido education, but I have always considered him to have graduated. He had grown up to be a man and a warrior and simply didn’t need us anymore. I think of him when a student looks at me with eyes filled with despair of ever getting a handle on what we are doing. I see Jake every time Christian attacks and I have to move him out of the way and into a throw or pin I would not normally use. I wish I could see Jake one more time to know his life turned out well. I would take my hakama off and untie my own belt and give it to him. He earned it. Not the hard way, the real way.

Because, you see, there is a truth to all students. Some are gifted and some are not. Some have no potential and some more than they will ever be able to use. I prefer those with no natural talent, myself. Those students who are gifted find it too easy and quit before they discover that they are doing it all wrong. They can imitate aikido with smooth coordinated muscles and dance-like moves. But they don’t understand and are not really doing aikido any more than a good stunt man is being thrown off a motorcycle into the side of a building. They go through the motions and it seems to be perfect, but they are a far cry from perfection and the total sum of what they could achieve if they would simply keep training for twenty years is staggering, but few will ever find the end of this potential. Christian is talented. It’s a good thing he can’t imitate
ukemi
. Or at least not well enough to fool me.

Probably his greatest downfall is also his greatest strength. That indefinable quality of likeability that I described earlier is absolutely genuine in him. I doubt he harbors a single negative or angry thought. Self doubt and longings? Sure, plenty. But he really is the nicest guy you have ever met.

Part 2

In The Wind

Chapter 8

New York to Paris…

To be a man who is taken seriously, a man who is respected and honored, it is imperative that he be a man of discipline. Disciple, discipline, they are of the same root and of the same spirit. When my teacher said that he needs disciples not sycophants, he was not saying that he wants us to blindly follow each and every word that falls from his lips. He was not saying that we should not think for ourselves. He was not saying that he wants us to march forward with no thought of the consequences and do his bidding like a troop of Marines following orders from their company commander. For many years he inspired me.

Over the years I have seen too many aikido senseis who failed the tests that were placed before them. Each year I saw the lack of discipline and the failures that surrounded their desperate need to be recognized by their own Japanese senseis, or by the Ueshiba family at Hombu. When young I didn’t recognize the desperation and abject craving they demonstrated. For the sake of a promotion and the drive of ambition I ignored their hypocrisy and abuse of students, especially women. They chose ambition over and over and left their top teachers floundering in the confusion created by the differences between actions and words. They destroyed years of work by many individuals who had spent a decade or more bringing aikido to many foreign lands and destroyed their dreams for no reason other than the hope for a promotion to 7
^th
, 8
^th
, or 9th dan, which in truth means nothing.

I have gone forth with the will to be a better man and to honor O’Sensei; the true founder of aikido with a life lived far better than these teacher’s lives have been lived.

So I looked forward to the journey as a chance to be the best person I could be. I have not always done that and it is true that my life has not been a shining example of a life well lived. Still, I know that I have accomplished many things that others desire and wish for themselves. I have envisioned my life as I wished it to be and have created a world for myself where the pleasures and labors and rewards have become so intertwined as to be inseparable. This has required extraordinary discipline to create and maintain, however I simply can’t imagine living my life without the discipline, love, laughter, happiness, work, sweat, struggle, searching and just plain joy that anyone can create for themselves. It merely takes enormous effort.
Why are we here if not to live all these things as completely as possible?

***

My idea was to get everyone together at the dojo and to leave from there. This way we could take a cab from the airport when we returned and all leave from here when we got home. As I have ample parking it was not a problem and logistically it worked out well. I was standing in the front yard and looking at the grapefruit tree, the big one that produces bushels and bushels of good, sweet, ruby-red grapefruit each year, when Nick drove up to the gate. Nick, Nicko, my senior student, my most deadly friend. He is the only student I have never thrown. Nick has never failed to take perfect ukemi for me and to attack again and again until the instant he needed to withdraw, to escape, and to survive to attack again. He is the only perfect uke I have ever known. I promoted him to 4th dan a year ago and I am embarrassed. He should be more senior than that, but he is still so young. I waved at him and walked over to open the gate. He drove through and parked his car and got out.

“
Hello, Nick,” I said.

“
Hello Sensei.”

“
How are you?” I asked.

“
I’m well. How is Laurie?”

“
My wife is working, but besides that, she is doing okay,” I said.

Nick is Syrian. He grew up in the oldest city in the world. Some anthropologists suggest that Damascus has been continuously occupied for over 12,000 years. No one knows for sure, but the culture there is far more complex than any place on earth. Tribal influence is deeper than the mind understands. Nomadic cultures have been drifting in and out of Syria for five times longer than the Americas have been occupied, and the mix of ancient Hebraic, Islamic, and tribal cultures from the ‘Stans’ – Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, Turkistan, etc is older than the most ancient recorded scrolls or tablets or memory. It is a place out of time and mind. The streets in Damascus are hard and dirty and anyone who grows to manhood there is tough beyond the dreams of most street hoodlums in New York and in reality tough beyond the reality of most United States Marines.

“
Sensei, I wanted to talk to you before you left.”

I nodded and waited. Understanding culture is one of the most important aspects of anyone who aspires to be a gentleman. I can merely aspire.

“
I just wanted to tell you something. I know you’ve been in Asia a few times. Well, a lot, really. But I know the part of the world you are going to. Chris is a good man and strong and smart and Curtis is, well, just amazing. He’s brilliant and tough. But Christian is a boy, still, and the ladies, well, they are something else. I envy you, Sensei…”

I glanced at him and screwed up my face.

“
Okay, forget that... well, what I want to say is this. If you get into trouble. I mean really bad trouble.., and if there is any way you can get word to me… I’ll give you my international calling numbers…I’ll come get you. I’ll make some phone calls, do whatever it takes.., but I will get you out of any trouble you are in. I swear it. You can trust me and count on me. I will find you.”

I knew Nick was telling me the truth. I nodded and saw that he was standing at quarters to me so that neither of us would be able to look into each other’s face while we spoke.

I remembered back to a time when I had hurt the feelings of one of my senior students. He was an Army Captain, an Armored Company Commander; he commanded a phalanx of tanks and armored vehicles, an awesome fighting force. He had overheard me tell someone that if I had to go back into combat, back like it was in Viet Nam, the one person I would want with me was Nick, because he would never fail and he would die to cover my back. My Captain was hurt, I guess, but it wasn’t personal. He had a wife and children and wasn’t from that time or part of the world. I’m sorry, if that hurt. If you read this.., I hope you understand…

We stood like that for a while and then, when I found my voice, I asked what he had been up to and if he was finding time to enjoy his life.

“
Ah, you know what it’s like. I bought a house for my folks so they wouldn’t be living with us… Sensei, they were driving me crazy… I had no time for my wife, and... but you know mothers… they can’t stand the idea that something is happening that they aren’t part of. So she comes over to visit, and then my dad starts to wonder where my mom is and comes over…, and the next thing you know, they’re both at my house, and I’m driving over to their house because nobody is there and I can get some peace and quiet.”

We laughed.

He shrugged hugely and held up his hands. I almost wept as I recognized my own gesture in his hands. I held out my arms and we embraced and then he got into his car and drove away. If there is anything that aikido has given me it is the wealth of people that I admire beyond all the people I have ever known.

***

I decided to go to my farm in Maine, take care of a few things that needed to be tended to and join the group in New York from there. The tickets were so expensive when I first looked into the trip that I was shocked and was truly struggling with the cost. My wife suggested that I find out how much a round-the-world ticket, might cost. To my surprise it was the same as for a round-trip to Kathmandu. I explained the idea to the group and we decided to do a little sight-seeing along the way. We were going right past, after all. Might as well stop and see a few sights.

Round-the-world tickets allow you to go wherever the airline travels as long as you don’t backtrack during the journey. There are many established routes and if your itinerary does not fall too far from the norm you can enjoy many options and possibilities in your journey. Since I wanted to spend a few days in Paris, and Curtis and Chris liked this idea it worked out well. Celine needed to go to Izmir, which is not all that far from Istanbul, to get her kit together. It was decided that we would all meet in Istanbul and she invited us to stay with her parents. She said they had an enormous house and plenty of room for us. This was all flowing nicely west from our original destination and the first leg’s stop was Charles De Gaulle Airport outside Paris.

My friend Arne drove me to Bangor to make the flight to New York. He had said we should have a few drinks together before we went. He was serious. The night before I was supposed to leave for New York we drove about seventy miles south to the town of Belfast to the Three Tides Brewing Company. This is a locally owned Micro Brew restaurant that serves the finest beer and ale in the state. Forget it, it’s the best in the world. It is so good that I was willing to drive one hundred forty miles on the eve before a monster trip to Nepal and Paris and Istanbul just to have a few pints of ale. Yeah, it’s that good.