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In any area of life where we acquire a set of skills, techniques, or tools it can be easy to become lost in the skill and loose the original creativity that drove us to the learning in the first place.

What good is a carpenter without a hammer? What good is a carpenter without carpentry?

What good is Bruce Lee without his amazing kicks? What good is Bruce Lee without martial art?

What good is the Buddha without his teachings? What good is the Buddha without enlightenment?

We, each of us, is a creative force in potentiality. And that creativity is stuck inside until we learn a method for getting it out, and acquire the techniques and tools to make it happen. When the artist gets too focused on the techniques and tools however, the creativity gets stifled there.

In martial art we find creativity in conflict. But we can become stuck in the hand positions, foot work, and snazzy tricks we learn. In a self-defense situation, in its rawest basic structure, we have exactly two choices in our response to an attack - collapse or expand. Collapse can take the forms of freezing or physical collapse. Expansion can take the forms of ‘flight’ or ‘fight’. But, at the base level these are your two options - collapse or expand .

In martial art we aim for expanding. This is where different schools diverge wildly. Bruce Lee would expand his foot right through the attacker’s face. O’Sensei (founder of Aikido, which I study) would expand to join with the attack and lead the attacker away, down, or into a pin. The techniques of martial art (which ever one catches your fancy) are absolutely essential , without them you have no refinement of the use of your tools, but they are only a means to an end. A way to expand creatively in dealing with a situation.

Just like the difference between a painter who has never learned painting formally and one who has years of tutelage and guidance. They can both express their creative urge in the medium of paint, but I am willing to bet the trained painter will do a better job of it.

In Aikido, by my thinking, the basic method is to reach out to touch our attacker, and to keep moving. What options we have then are predicated by the tools we have learned and perfected, but without first touching and moving we have nothing.

The tools are critical, but they are not the aim.

About two months into my stint as Uchi-Deshi, Sensei called me up to demonstrate the technique Shiho-Nage. The fall from the technique is a simple sit fall. I whizzed the strike in, eager as always to prove myself as a good uke. Sensei moved, grasped my wrist, twisted my arm up over his own head and behind my shoulder, and threw. Down I went, fast. I forgot to tuck my chin. My shaved head bounced hard off the mostly forgiving mat. Dazed I scrambled to my feet, my eagerness not diminished. Again I attacked, again he threw, again I forgot. Wham! My head rang harder this time. Again I rose, again he threw, harder. Again I forgot. Wham!

As the class watched unmoving and silent I attacked, was thrown, and hit my head 19 times (I have a thing about counting during techniques). Each time Sensei threw harder and faster. I knew something was amiss, but my head was ringing harder than I could think. On the 19^th time something clicked, and finally I tucked my chin. The fall was fast and hard, but infinitely more comfortable.

Breathing hard from the effort, Sensei exclaimed, “I was wondering how long it was going to take you!” The class burst into laughter.

I have never forgotten that lesson, and I have always tucked my head in the subsequent seven-plus years of practice.

Some lessons are learned better without words.

So, there I was at work. Out-loud trying to decide how to juggle Aikido, an OA meeting, and voting.One of my co-workers/friends (in reverse order) said, “I think you should do your civic duty.”

That stuck with me.

The Buddha said, “Before you can save the nation, you must first put your house in order.”

Isn’t making myself as healthy and strong as I can, a civic duty? How will I be of aid to anyone if I am ill, weak, undisciplined, and emotionally in toil?

Many fitness (and warrior) movements have held as part of there central tenets the idea of making one’s own body an example of discipline and accomplishment to inspire others. If I work on myself with at least a modicum of altruism, am I not doing good work?

I think the answer is yes. We must work on ourselves, resolve our conflicts. Make ourselves stronger, and more able to help others. Society, community, and the world will be improved there from.

For the record, I left work a little early (I came in an hour early) and got all three done. Voted, then hit the mat for some Aikido goodness, then sped to my meeting to continue the longest battle in my life.

One day at a time, improve yourself, for the good of the world.

On to the meat of the entry-

I was thinking this morning during Aikido class about the phenomenon of the 3 month student. Many, many people have joined the dojo over the years and have stopped attending after 3 months. Over those years I have non-formally kept track of reasons for stopping. Although most won’t come out and say it straight off, by far the most common reason is, ‘It’s just too hard’. Isn’t it supposed to be?

Exercise, real exercise, the kind that will have actual results isn’t easy. It shouldn’t be. It’s an effort, and meant to be. The whole point is to stress the system to either force an adaptation to grow, or expend more than common amounts of energy in an attempt to burn away excess. It’s not easy. But people stil want it to be. You can see this thinking if you watch almost any exercise infomercial, or read a trendy diet book. Somehow the work to improve one’s condition and health should be simple and easy. The classic, ‘magic bullet’ wish. Well, I’ve tried them, they don’t really work. Re-shaping yourself takes more effort than letting yourself get out of shape in the first place. No quick fixes. No easy cures. A simple mental comparison of sitting eating pizza while watching a date movie in the comfort of your own home with a loved one, versus hoofing through a 10 mile hike with a lunch break for nuts and cheese in the comfort of the wilderness with your loved one should suffice. Mind you, both of these activities should lead to at least a little exercise later on that night, but still…

The easy path leads to a sedentary, at best marginally healthy, life. The hard path leads to an active, at least healthy, life. Mind you, there is a breaking point. A point of diminishing returns on effort, followed quickly by a point of negative impact. So, I am also against the other extreme in modern health and fitness thinking, ‘give 1000% effort and you’ll get results 10 times as fast’. Yeah, sure buddy, you’ll get dead ten times as quick. One must rationally assess ones starting point, and proceed intelligently there from. But, in the end the hard path yields better results, ie any results. Anyways, I should get back to work (and do some more pushups), I just think there is something in this that speaks to the state of our culture. It seems way to easy in people’s minds to term something, ‘too hard’. How many opportunities does that thinking cut off? How many rewards? How much happiness?