In the midst of the Iraq war in 2008, Carol Altstatt, an aikido black belt, built a dojo and taught aikido in the Green Zone – the heavily fortified center of Coalition Provisional Authority, located in the heart of Baghdad. This is her story of the experience, the challenge, and the growth and insight that blossomed from the experience.

Carol began aikido training in 1989 with Capital Aikikai, Clyde Takeguchi, Sensei. Several years later she joined Aikido Schools of Ueshiba, headed by Mitsugi Saotome, Sensei. While with A.S.U., she taught aikido at a private school for young women. She served two year-long deployments as a civilian in war: Iraq 2008-2009, and in Afghanistan, 2019. 

The year was 2008. The position, Foreign Service social worker, was with the State Department and located in the U.S. Embassy, Baghdad (formerly the Iraqi Republican Palace), in the Green Zone. My role as a clinical social worker was to provide emotional and mental health support to those serving under the State Department, which meant Foreign Service officers, administrative staff and the diplomatic and personal security teams under the Chief of Mission, Ambassador Ryan Crocker. As the military had surged under General David H. Petraeus, so too had the civilians under the State Department. Altogether, my customer base was one thousand in Baghdad, and another eight thousand throughout Iraq. I kept a “go bag” packed because I could be ordered on a mission with short notice. The nascent role gave me latitude to give support in a range of forms and venues. I held individual therapy sessions in my embassy office, flew aboard helicopters to provide outreach to staff in provinces throughout the country, and volunteered to teach yoga and aikido for the Embassy’s community.

Given the risks and chaos in the Green Zone, it was a mixture of arrogance and idealism that let me think I could start a dojo. I saw the dojo as a refuge in the center of the Iraq war’s intense, edgy headquarters.  The conditions that created the need for a safe, contained space were the same ones to stifle my initiative:  rotating personnel, incoming mortar rounds and rockets, security lockdowns, and sporadic improvised explosive device attacks.  Erratic disruptions in Baghdad contrasted with stretches of idle hours, and I was compelled to teach. Once given the nod of approval, I imagined a lively, energetic dojo in the heartbeat of the war zone. As I did the legwork and relationship-building needed to find a practice space, recruit students, and gather equipment, I would find the most daunting obstacles not the kinetic activities outside the perimeter’s walls, but the personalities within.

The year before the assignment, I’d flunked my nidan exam – potentially, an ego-busting outcome. Maybe that was the point. The testing happened the week after the Aikido Schools of Ueshiba (ASU) Annual Intensive one-week summer training program. The previous three cycles of testing had been held under panels of senior instructors, but this one was with Saotome Sensei. With only four examinees, we had the chance to shine or stumble and, though unlikely, failure was an option. It took less than an hour. Saotome Sensei took the center of the mat, gazed at us for several extended breaths and, with a long face, said, “Everybody fail.” The champagne a sempai had given me went into a dim corner of my refrigerator. Disconcerted by the smack-down, I vowed to show up with a beginner’s mindset the next day for early morning classes. Less than a year later I was in Iraq.

In preparation for deployment, the State Department held mandatory classroom and field instruction. We practiced triage for acute injuries, combat wound dressings, and pistol and M4 carbine familiarization. Security professionals taught us to drive cars at high speeds through horseshoe turns, and to weaponize a car to breach barricades. Terrorist role players threatened us from roadsides and enacted live bomb scenarios. While the survive, evade, resist, escape (SERE) module was a lightweight version of soldiers’ field training, it was enough to instill my vow to “return with honor” under any condition. Iraq was thick with thousands of contracted personal security details to protect us, but if an incident went sideways, we might have to tourniquet a limb, take the wheel, handle a firearm, and avoid being taken hostage.

I knew firsthand the stakes we faced. For six years, I was a social worker at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, where we treated soldiers grievously injured in the contested areas of Afghanistan and Iraq. Amputations, traumatic brain injuries, and disfigurement brought me into proximity with a war in which the foe used guerilla tactics and skunkworks engineering to attack and bewilder fighting forces. Soldiers’ stories about a vehicle running low on gas, a mechanical jam in a dusty barrel of an M4, or a foot fall on one side or the other of a piece of plywood made the distinction between a near-miss and struggling for survival.

The interior of the palace, perhaps once softly lit by natural light, was dark, illuminated by flickering fluorescent tubes and bare bulbs strung from ceilings. Ceilings rose three stories above walls covered with murals showing horses galloping over mountains, and missiles breaking through clouds toward a blue sky. An expansive central hall was divided into smaller spaces – “carve-outs” – for various office functions. The temporary plywood carve-outs had no ceilings, leaving sound to ricochet from the walls and floors.

One of the dingy carve-outs, a heavily used recreation room, became our place of practice for the first six months. We had the space three evenings a week – Sunday through Tuesday – after a mixed martial arts class. The ceiling was high enough for weapons work. The marble floor was covered with spongy, duct-taped gymnastic mats. I took forward and backward rolls to judge the quality and it was unsuitable for rigorous ukemi. It lacked the density and forgiveness of decent mats. A supportive surface is the paramount condition for aikido training. We could get by with stretching and simple movement on the mats, but not rolling or falling ukemi. And without rolling and falling on trusted mats, aikido training is stunted.

It was each person’s responsibility to carry their own duffel bags when leaving Iraq, so I was reluctant to add to students’ baggage by requiring purchase of a bokken. During my walkabouts, I hit the equipment jackpot when I came upon an unpublicized carpentry shop set up in a shipping container. Officially, the carpenter, Jim, did projects approved by several layers of authorities; bokken and jo did not qualify as mission essential. I needed to find a way to make this happen. Using my own bokken and jo as templates, he made sixteen weapons for our budding dojo. Buoyed by this ground roots success, I hoped for the same result with the mats. Disagreement over the use of funds for community morale made me fight hard for the mats, so hard it nearly cost me my position.

One detail perplexed and intrigued me: how to teach without an uke. In all of the classes, workshops, and camps I had attended, there was never a want for ukes. Spry, nimble, responsive, ukes are the raison d’etre of technique, the force without which there is no need for irimi or tenkan, the attack without which there is no technique.

The energetic intricacy between uke and nage is a kinesthetic phenomenon that has to be felt to be believed. A skilled nage struggles with his idea of technique when a beginner offers a floppy, disjointed attack. The beginner needs to feel the attack “from the center,” with intention and follow through, keep up momentum and remain connected. Without such an uke, partnership interaction was devoid of energy. I congratulated myself for what I considered an ingenious solution: I will be uke. I will be uke to students’ nage, allowing them to feel, through my responses, possibilities for moving through technique. Shaping space and movement like a windsock on an airfield. I would be the reflective other half, expanding into the negative space of their role as nage.

Uke quandary solved, only the quality of mats remained. Here, I met my primary adversary.  Management held the purse strings, and my first request for decent mats was declined as “not mission essential.”  It may have been an extravagant request – six thousand dollars’ worth of tatami-style mats – since they would be dedicated to a specific use for the duration of my tour.  Step by step, I followed the bureaucratic rules to purchase equipment.

Ambassador Crocker was an advocate for the morale and welfare of staff, and even more so since the barrage during the spring attacks. He sanctioned my endeavor which was equivalent to a monetary green light. Month by month, we awaited delivery as we got by on the deteriorating gym mats. It took four months. Good mats meant we could have energized ukemi and the possibility of exuberant training. As an instructor, I was firm about etiquette and kept chatter to a minimum during class.  As uke, my learning evolved with the recognition I am always less than one student away from a beginner.

Notice of the start of classes went to the Embassy’s distribution list and was posted on bulletin boards in high traffic spots.  The physician in the medical unit where I worked cautioned, “Don’t be surprised if no one shows up.” I offered classes because people needed diversion from long work days in a frustrating environment. If no one showed, I’d train by myself. Thirteen people showed up for the first class. Attendance increased every month and by the end of the year over forty people sampled classes. I took ukemi and within weeks several of the regulars were able to demonstrate with me. I was so immersed in their development, and in myself serving as uke, that at times I imagined myself the teacher only one lesson ahead of his pupils.

Those who joined us reflected the diversity of our community. Some were previously on active duty in the military and working as security contractors. One, David, with a boisterous personality and a grin to match, had been wounded as a combat soldier in Iraq and had returned as a contractor in information technology. A Navy pilot, Luke, was a family man, athletic, and solid as a rock. Others were economic or political diplomats, one was with USAID, and there was a sprinkling of foreign nationals who were on cooking or cleaning crews. Several women joined as well, including a nurse I worked with in the medical unit.

As a dojo, we had vigorous training, and classes ended with the kind of satisfaction that made students want to return for more.  We held ninety hours of classes. David and Luke were ecstatic to pass sixth kyu and strutted in their hakamas like roosters.  We used the tatami-style mats for four months and students were free of injuries.  The duck-and-cover alarm went off dozens of times, although never during class.

It may have been providence that spared me what I considered the ultimate test of the durability of my budo spirit that year.  I yearned to test my wits in a life-threatening situation which was practically guaranteed in pre-deployment training. Our community was under lockdown several times, but mortar shells never landed on our grounds. However, I did offer care and comfort to those who met the enemy, such as the security personnel who lost a teammate with a gunshot wound to the head, those who knew two people killed by bombs in off-site meetings, and the witnesses of a vehicle-borne improvised explosive device that killed two Foreign Service officers.  The startling revelation had to do with my misperception of an opponent.  Those inside our walls, our fellow citizens, had the capacity to make or break our experience while serving in a desolate, hostile land. The contest over the mats exposed stubbornness as one of my own weaknesses, but my triumph gave us the ground for a level of aikido never previously seen in the Green Zone and, I doubt, since.

It was heartening to see students blossom through time on the mat, to catch the twinkle of inspiration in their eyes. The core group that evolved was primed to continue training wherever their next venture took them.  These were people who hungered for the spirit of aikido, even if they could not have expressed it. All I did was show up.  The presence of such eager trainees made me the prime beneficiary of the eleven-month dojo experiment.

Back home, I opened my sempai’s bottle of champagne. I’d surpassed the wartime version of my nidan exam.

Bruce Bookman Sensei is the Chief Instructor of Tenzan Aikido in Seattle, Washington and one of the most highly respected aikido instructors in the United States. He became the youngest aikido black belt in America at the age of 15 while studying under Yoshimitsu Yamada Shihan at New York Aikikai in the 1970s, and now runs one of the world’s largest and most successful aikido dojos. Recently, Bruce realigned himself with the United States Aikido Federation. He spoke with Aikido Journal about returning to the USAF and his relationship with the late Yamada Sensei.

Josh Gold: I’d like to congratulate you on your reentry into the United States Aikido Federation. Can you share a bit of your history with the USAF?

Thank you, Josh, for taking this time to interview me at this juncture in my aikido career. I really appreciate that you’re checking in and us having a chance to talk.

I originally became a member of the United States Aikido Federation in 1970 at the age of 12. Really, the USAF, the New York Aikikai, and Yoshimitsu Yamada Sensei were almost synonymous. I attended all the USAF Summer Camps and seminars that Yamada Sensei and Kanai Sensei were running at the time. There was a much smaller and different group back in the 1970s. The Shihan at that time were Yamada Sensei in New York, of course, and Kanai Sensei in Boston. There was also Shuji Maruyama Sensei in Philadelphia.

Maruyama Sensei broke away from the Aikikai along with Koichi Tohei Sensei and then eventually broke away from the Ki Society and started his own Kokikai group. But back in those days, it was those three who ran the United States Aikido Federation and headed up by Yamada Sensei.

I started teaching, in 1974, the Thursday evening class at the New York Aikikai as a new shodan. At that time, Yamada Sensei traveled quite a bit and oftentimes I would cover for him as well as the other senseis at the Dojo. This was before Seiichi Sugano Sensei arrived. There were Senseis Angel Alverez, Kiyoshi Tokunaga, Harvey Konigsberg, Luqman Hakim, Jane Ozeki and Lue Kleinsmith – I’m sure I’m leaving some people out. Later on came Rick Stickles Sensei, Peter Bernath Sensei, and also Sensei Steve Pimsler. Just as I was getting ready to leave for Japan, they were becoming instructors in their own right and teaching classes at the New York Aikikai.

In 1977, I left for Tokyo as a nidan with Yamada Sensei’s permission to study at the Hombu Dojo. I had a particular interest in studying with Kazuo Chiba Sensei, with whom I took private lessons, in addition to studying with all the other teachers in Hombu Dojo. I returned to New York in 1979 and began, once again, teaching at the New York Aikikai assisting Yamada Sensei. In 1981, I moved out to Seattle to start my own dojo, at which point I became a shidoin in the USAF. At that time, it was one big organization.

Chiba Sensei had moved to San Diego about the same time I moved to Seattle. Akira Tohei Sensei arrived from Tokyo in the mid-1970s. The face of the USAF had changed quite a bit, but it was one big organization. Eventually, it became four different subgroups: the Eastern Region with Yamada Sensei, the Midwest Region headed by Akira Tohei Sensei, the Western Region with Chiba Sensei, and then Hawaii was run by Sadao Yoshioka Sensei. Since I was on the West Coast and I had trained with Chiba Sensei a lot in Japan, I remained with the Western Region for a good 12 years.

As much as I loved Chiba Sensei, we parted ways and I went back to the Eastern Region, even though I had a dojo in Seattle, and worked once again with Yamada Sensei until 1996 when I went independent. The reasons for that were pretty much personal. I needed to focus on my family life, running my dojo, and raising my kids. I needed to simplify my life.

I went independent for a good 23 years and recently realigned with all my old friends at the USAF. Yamada Sensei and I managed to be on pretty good terms over the last 10 years and I wanted to speak to him about rejoining the USAF. I’d been going back annually to teach at Aikido Schools of New Jersey at the invitation of Rick Stickles Sensei and more recently by invitation from Hal Lehrman and Jay Tall Senseis. Every time I’d go back, I’d also go to New York, to visit Yamada Sensei, take his class, and get thrown around a bit by him. It was very nostalgic for me. In some ways, it felt like I was visiting my old grade school and entered my kindergarten class. But soon, though, I found myself really engaged in the practice in Yamada Sensei’s class. It was really a nice feeling to come out and take ukemi for him again. Anyway, that’s really the summary of my history with the United States Aikido Federation.

After all these years, what was the motivation to rejoin the USAF? Your dojo’s very successful in Seattle and it seems you’ve been doing just fine independently. What was the impetus for that?

I miss all my old friends and I miss working with them. I longed to have a working relationship with a group of instructors that I have respect for. That’s certainly the case in the USAF. I was going to talk with Yamada Sensei about realigning, and was all set to go out to a seminar that he was teaching in San Francisco. He and Senseis Peter and Penny Bernath were also teaching at the San Francisco seminar. Then I came down with Covid and couldn’t make it out there, but I figured, “Well, it’ll have to wait till next year.” Unfortunately, Yamada Sensei passed away, so we never got a chance to talk about that. But we’d been moving closer and closer over the last decade. This was an inevitable thing to happen for us.

I also wanted to give my students exposure to a broader group of people doing aikido, and an international family so that they could see how many different people practice. The USAF is an interesting organization in that it’s not so much curriculum based. They have a baseline of quality that they expect when testing and giving out rank, but really, they leave a lot up to the individual instructors in terms of what to emphasize and where people go with the aikido. It’s really a loose-knit group of aikido instructors who care deeply about each other. For me, it’s a chance to introduce my own take on classical aikido as well as some work that I do in practical application and weapons work.

To sum it up, it’s a greater need for connection with a broader group of people. Over the years, I’ve come to value, more than ever, history and friendship. We all shine in certain ways and have our shortcomings. I’ve come to not only tolerate differences but genuinely appreciate how different teachers’ approach aikido.

How have your students reacted to this? Are they excited about it?

Well, that’s an interesting question. Most of them have never known anything else but what we do at Tenzan Aikido as an independent organization. They’ve always been welcomed everywhere they go. When I first mentioned to them that I was strongly considering USAF membership, I checked in with all my senior students and they were indifferent to it. They like to practice the way that it is, and they basically trust me to make good decisions for the dojo. They know that I’m dedicated to their practice and that I only look for ways to improve their training. They basically trust me to make the right decision.

Looking forward, how do you think you’ll contribute to the USAF as you come back into the fold? 

First of all, the affiliation of Tenzan Aikido will give the USAF and Aikikai a major presence in the Seattle and Northwest Region of the U.S. Together, we can gather more momentum and appeal to more people, increasing aikido membership in general. At the very least, the USAF and Aikikai will receive the support of a vibrant aikido dojo and community by having Tenzan Aikido as a member.

Over the years, I’ve crossed geographical and organizational/political boundaries to teach seminars and connect with teachers from various organizations including the USAF, Birankai, ASU, the Canadian Aikido Federation, Aikido of Northern California, and outstanding independent teachers. For several years, I participated in Jimmy Friedman Sensei’s Aikido Project in San Francisco. It was great to teach side-by-side with Friedman Sensei and Christian Tissier Sensei, year after year. I was delighted to hear that Osawa Sensei is the liaison between the USAF and Aikikai in Japan. I remember Osawa Sensei from my time at Hombu Dojo, 45 years ago. I remembered him as a decent person who practiced hard and was always fair with people. So, it was nice to reconnect with him at the recent USAF Summer Camp in New Jersey.

I feel that I may be instrumental in bringing people together to share their perspectives on aikido for the benefit of everybody. Each organization, each high-ranking aikido master, has a scenario for their aikido – certain things that they feel are very important and they look at things with a certain light. Oftentimes, one scenario is not any better than the other, but it can be very helpful to understand the various ways of doing aikido so that you give practitioners an opportunity to choose things that are helpful to them and to their practice. Aikido should be the type of thing that unites people – that brings them together. And I feel that my connections and longtime  friendships will be mutually beneficial to the United States Aikido Federation as well as other groups.

You first met Yamada Sensei when you were 12 years old. He passed away very recently. When you reflect on your relationship with him, how do you think about him? How does he fit into your life? What kind of person was he to you?

Well, if I had started aikido with any of the other instructors first, who were so influential on me, I probably would not have stuck with aikido. Yamada Sensei was just right for me. I was a very troubled 12-year-old. I was flunking out in school. I was getting bullied and beaten up at school a lot. I had just a terrible perception of myself. I felt that I wasn’t smart, and I felt that I wasn’t tough. To be not smart and not tough, and 12 years old, it was a heartbreaking time, and I just was having real trouble. I didn’t have a father who was around much. My mother did her best, but she was really at the end of having answers for me. As fate would have it, I walked up those steps of the New York Aikikai, that narrow staircase, and walked into the dojo, and right away I could smell the grass straw tatami mats that they were still importing from Japan at that time for training. I sat down to watch a class that Yamada Sensei was teaching, and I just felt so much at home. When my eyes met Yamada Sensei’s, I immediately felt his warmth and acceptance.

Looking back, I felt that he was letting me in on how there was even a place for a 12 year old, Bruce Bookman from the streets of lower Manhattan in O-Sensei’s vision of aikido. I got on the mat and started practicing and I really fell in love with aikido. Yamada Sensei was loose enough with the structure and was accommodating enough. I felt that I was genuinely seen, and he slowly drew me into the fold. He had some kind of a magnet, and I just loved it, and I loved him.

Then, over the years, I got more and more involved at the dojo. I used to go to a middle school that was two blocks away from the New York Aikikai. After school, I’d walk over and Yamada Sensei usually would be hanging around early, so I would be there. On one occasion, he had me get out on the mat in our gi pants without gi tops on. We tied our belts around, and he would do sumo with me. Other days, it might be judo. He had a judo book that he liked and if I came in early, he would flip through the pages and then get me out on the mat and practice judo techniques. Then he’d have a little match with me. Sometimes, he’d let me throw him a little bit, and other times he’d come in with a throw or a foot sweep.

Other days when I showed up early, he was much more serious. Sometimes, he had a katana that he used to practice his suburi on some afternoons. I used to watch him practicing and I wanted to be just like him. I would get a bokken and I would practice my suburi out on the mat as well. Other days, I’d come in and he’d throw me a buck and send me down the street to pick him up a pack of Kents, a copy of the New York Post, and a cup of coffee, light, no sugar.

There were days, as I got older and became more and more of a smart ass, he would call me upstairs to his office for an attitude adjustment. On one such adjustment, I must have been strutting around too much at the dojo or something. He called me upstairs and he sat me down. He says, “Bruce. Tell me, do you think you’re tough?” I was caught off guard by his question. He said, “Because if you’re trying to prove that you’re tough with the people downstairs in the dojo, you can’t do it here. They’re not fighters and they don’t want to fight. If you think you’re tough, go to a boxing gym or go into a bar somewhere and start running your mouth and see how you do. But don’t come in here to the dojo to aikido people and try to be a tough guy.”

That hit me like a two by four right between the eyes. Those words have come back to me from time to time at different eras in my training. When I’d go to Hombu Dojo, I’d see teachers who were very humble and very expert. I’d also see teachers who I thought were full of themselves and trying to prove that they were tough guys. I could feel that stuff coming up in myself. From year to year, decade to decade, I can’t tell you how many times the attitude adjustments that I received from Yamada Sensei up in his office have come back to me.

He was, at times, a difficult person to be around, and not a good person to be around. Most of us who were Yamada Sensei’s students would say that was his human side. That’s really not what I choose to focus on right now. There’s always baggage with any teacher, hopefully less with some than with others. What I like to look at is the net result of my time with Yamada Sensei, which was a resounding positive experience. Even to this day, looking back at the New York Aikikai, and Yamada Sensei’s classes, I would say that his primary gift was that he could hold the energetic matrix of a dojo and let all kinds of different energy come in. In his person to person teaching style, he never seemed to get angry with people who were struggling to keep up with the class and with what he was teaching. Or some people after the most detailed instruction remained clueless. I sensed that it was okay with him. To me, it didn’t seem to bother him at all. It didn’t even look like he was trying to control himself. If it wasn’t the time for a student to get the lesson, it wasn’t the time. I think that his attitude toward teaching had a way of putting people at ease. He seemed naturally non-judgmental. When I teach class in Seattle, I often catch myself when I’m trying to be too tight, or a little too strict. If I’m trying to impose my perspective on people, I remember Yamada Sensei, and I say to myself, “Let my students breathe. Let them have a good time. Allow them to feel comfortable in the dojo and let them make out of it what they will, and they’ll come up with things. And the dojo will be a better place because of it.”

I had a few run-ins with Yamada Sensei, and we had our ups and downs, and I blamed him for lots of things back in the old days. Some of it really didn’t fit him and there was stuff that I needed to look closer at myself rather than to blame him. I wrote to him and apologized a good 15 years ago or so. I think it took him a while to hear it and that’s understandable. If I really am honest with myself, I feel it was a deep-rooted need, in myself, to individuate as an aikido teacher and as a person from Yamada Sensei. It was nothing negative about Yamada Sensei, it’s just as a child has to individuate from his dad – same for me. I didn’t realize that I was individuating, but looking back, I believe that’s what I was doing.

Is there anything else you’d like to share with the aikido community?

We’re all getting older, especially us senior aikido teachers. I’m now 65 years old. I feel that I’m approaching the culmination of 53 years of aikido practice. I have been very fortunate in having exposure to so many great teachers. I think that the mark of a good teacher is that they give their students a more direct path which will allow them to accomplish the same and more in a shorter time. That is my goal as a teacher. As a student, I never know from where the next pearl of wisdom will come. Often I learn things from my juniors on days that I have the humility to look.

I look forward to this juncture for Tenzan Aikido with its new membership in the USAF. I will strive to make it something that will greatly benefit us all.

Congratulations again, Bruce. The aikido community, and I believe the USAF, are very fortunate to have you involved as a teacher and leader in the art of aikido. 

Thank you very much, Josh. Thanks again for giving me this opportunity to talk.

The following is a conversation between Christian Tissier and Josh Gold from March 2023. Christian Tissier Shihan (8th dan) is one of the world’s most respected and influential aikido instructors today. He began his aikido training in 1962 and moved to Tokyo in 1969 where we lived and trained at the Aikikai Hombu Dojo for 7 years. Christian Tissier was a pioneer of the French aikido community and founded Cercle Tissier in Paris, which teaches aikido as well as a broad range of martial arts and movement arts. He was a founding member of the Fédération Française d’Aïkido Aïkibudo et Affinitaires (FFAAA), one of the two state-recognized aikido governing bodies in France and often leads major international aikido seminars and events. 

Josh Gold (Aikido Journal): Good evening, Christian.Thank you for taking the time to speak with Aikido Journal again. 

Christian Tissier: Yes, of course.

You just returned from leading a seminar in Germany. How often do you travel for seminars these days?

I’m traveling less these days than before. I have reduced the number of seminars I accept, especially when the location is too far or difficult to reach. When I travel to do seminars, I want to build long term relationships with people so it’s important to go to a place every year, otherwise, it makes no sense. I still have regular cities I visit, especially in Europe. Places like Germany, Holland, Italy, and Spain. In May, I will be going to Bulgaria for a seminar, and then of course San Francisco.

Traveling so much must give you an informed perspective on the aikido world. Post-pandemic, how do things seem to be going?

The pandemic has affected the number of people regularly training in dojos, but seminar attendance has increased. People are hungry to practice and attend seminars again. While it’s not like before, attendance is improving, and my seminars are full.

How are things at your dojo in Paris? Can you share a little about the history of that dojo and how it’s structured now?

My dojo in Paris is also doing fine. Probably similar to most dojos after the pandemic. We have lost some students, like everyone else, but things are running very well at the moment.

In regards to the history of Cercle Tissier – I started teaching at the dojo when I returned from Japan in 1977, and I bought it in 1980, so I now own the building. I used to teach every day until I moved to the South of France in 1990. At that time, I decided to entrust the management to others. I continued to visit the dojo every week, twice a week for about 30 years. Now I visit two or three times a month for two days.

There are many different arts and disciplines that are practiced there, Brazilian jiu-jitsu, dance, and aikido, of course.

Yes, we have about 3,000 people practicing there. We have aikido, different kinds of dance, yoga, kajukenbo, boxing, jiu-jitsu, krav maga, karate, kobudo, and many other martial arts. Aikido was the main activity for a long time, but it’s not the case anymore. Maybe because I’m not there enough. The other people teaching are very good, but when you are the boss of a dojo, people prefer you to be there.

Tell me more about what it’s like to have a dojo where so many disciplines are practiced. 

The land is very expensive in Paris, so we don’t have a choice. When you buy your building, you have to make enough money to make loan payments. We have four different rooms to teach at the same time. The main dojo for aikido is 200 square meters, and we have three other dojos that are 100 square meters each. We need to have four different martial arts or activities going on at the same time. It’s a big advantage because one activity can bring students to other activities.

Do many of your aikido students cross-train in other martial arts or movement practices that are going on there?

Yes, some go to jiu-jitsu because it’s a good complement to aikido. It’s a different kind of practice, but can be very beneficial. Some of them also take karate lessons. I tell my young people, ranked sandan, yondan, or godan; if they want to become professional, they should do some karate or boxing a little bit to see something else and gain martial experience.

Aikido and many of the other arts practiced in the dojo are forms of budo. What is your perspective on the role budo can or should be playing in modern society? And why don’t you think Budo has been more influential in the modern world? 

It’s a fact that traditional budo are declining because there are so many other options available now. People are looking for something quick and easy, but traditional Budo requires discipline, a specific uniform, a clean uniform, a set class schedule, things like this. Many people don’t understand why they should do that when there are other options that are quicker and more practical.

Of course, we don’t propose teaching people self-defense skills quickly like krav maga. People come to aikido because they want something deeper and more unique, but we have to make it more appealing and relevant to modern society. The main purpose of budo is not just self-defense, but also personal development and growth. As teachers, we have to show how it works and how our students progress and benefit from it. I believe that if people experience the benefits of traditional budo, more people will be drawn to it.

How would you describe budo’s place in the larger universe of martial arts?

Budo is a way to perfect oneself through physical training within a set of constraints. While budo are a kind of martial art, it is important to note that not all martial arts are budo. The values and goals of budo are different from self-defense systems. Budo focuses on adding natural principles such as distance, vision, technique, communication, respect, integrity, and purity to one’s practice. The more natural principles one incorporates, the more their movement will become pure. Budo is about achieving purity in both movement and mind, and it is this pursuit of perfection that sets it apart from other types of martial arts.

How, specifically, do you think budo contributes to personal growth, or perhaps even something like developing leadership skills?

Budo emphasizes principles such as communication, respect, and integrity, which are essential in building strong relationships and developing leadership skills. Through budo training, individuals learn to calculate risks, push themselves to take calculated risks, and develop the discipline to persevere through challenges. These are all valuable skills that can be applied to personal and professional contexts. Moreover, the pursuit of purity in both movement and mind requires dedication, perseverance, and a willingness to learn and grow, which are all qualities of a strong leader.

What would you say to someone interested in starting budo training?

I would encourage them to find a good teacher and to approach their training with an open mind and a willingness to learn. Budo is a lifelong pursuit, and it requires discipline, dedication, and patience to progress. It is also important to note that budo is not just about physical training, but also about developing one’s character and cultivating a strong moral compass. By incorporating natural principles into one’s practice, individuals can bring about positive changes not only in their movement but also in their lives.

Generally, budo arts don’t get a lot of visibility outside of their own communities, but one area where we unfortunately see budo arts more broadly these days are on social media channels like McDojoLife. You’ll see not just aikido, but daito-ryu, Chinese or Indian martial arts, tae kwon do, and even self-defense systems. Videos show up of teachers doing no-touch practice, or demonstrating things that seem to violate the laws of physics. In aikido, some teachers use very subtle connection exercises to teach principles. Some demonstrate things where there is no physical contact, or very light contact and the uke will fly through the air.

Some of these clips are taken out of context, but some are an accurate representation of what’s happening on the mat. What are your thoughts on this kind of practice?

Well, yes, we know some aikido practitioners who have a very good background and technique. Then, at some moment, it changed a little bit and they try to explain the way it works with no-connection techniques. I can understand what they explain, but there is no longer any kind of feeling to the practice. For me, it’s a really bad way to promote what we do. People who see that will think that it’s fake. Well, because it is.

The problem is that I’m not sure that they don’t know themselves that they’re fake. I saw a video…I don’t remember the gentleman’s name but he was a Chinese martial artist who would often do no-touch techniques. He accepted a challenge fight with a karate practitioner. The first punch, he took it, and he was very surprised. This means he’s a fake and really believes in what he does. The most crazy thing is how the uke or partners also believe in that. It’s really sad when you see that.

You probably need some kind of cult-like atmosphere to develop a group of people who follow along with that kind of training without questioning what’s going on.

Yes. It’s a kind of mind manipulation and it’s very dangerous in my opinion.

On a lighter note, you have a book coming out soon. Can you tell us abit about it?

Yes, my book is currently being translated into English, and I hope it will be ready before Christmas. It’s not a technical book, but it’s a book that shows what aikido is all about. It includes 80 pages of techniques, one page for ikkyo, one for nikyo, one for sankyo, yonkyo, and two or three pages about aiki-ken and aiki-jo and tanto dori to give a basic explanation.

We have a lot of contributors who wrote some very interesting articles about different subjects related to aikido. About 20 people contributed to the book, including Guillaume Erard, Jimmy Friedman, and Bruno Gonzalez, who wrote about the connection between the situation we have in theater and the situation we have in aikido.

Did you do original photography for the book?

Yes, we shot some special photographs for the techniques, and we asked contributors to include nice pictures of their senseis. We have a lot of iconography from Japan as well. It’s not just focused on technique; it’s also a book to showcase aikido at the same time.

When is the book coming out?

I think before Christmas.

You have trained with many aikido masters, including Kisshomaru Ueshiba. Can you tell us a bit about some of your teachers and the things that most inspired you from one or two of them?

When I was in Hombu Dojo, I used to practice in my seniors’ classes. My main teachers for some very clear reasons were Kisshomaru Doshu and Yamaguchi Sensei, but I was also very close to Saotome Sensei. Before he went to the United States, we used to practice together very often, even in private. We did a lot of jo. I was also very close friends with Masuda Sensei, who was like an elder brother to me. Of course, Osawa Sensei also protected me very much, especially when I came back to France.

Doshu and Yamaguchi Sensei were my main teachers because Doshu was the Ueshiba family successor, and I loved his personality and the work he had done for aikido. Going to his class every morning, taking ukemi, and watching how he was dealing with other people helped me to learn the orthodoxy of aikido. This helped me a lot because when I came back to Europe, aikido was a little different from what I had learned in Hombu Dojo. I just said, “What I do is like that. It’s Doshu’s aikido.” That helped me very much.

With Yamaguchi Sensei, it’s completely different because his aikido was also incredible, in my opinion. The combination between both orthodoxy and something also very clear technically, but in a different approach, was a great opportunity for me.

How did you seet Yamaguchi Sensei’s aikido differing from Doshu’s?

Yamaguchi Sensei’s aikido was very different from Doshu’s. Of course, some people didn’t like it, but I was really interested in what he was doing. Yamaguchi Sensei was not someone who talked about O-Sensei. He was never saying, “O-Sensei told me to do it this way.” Because I was close to him, if I asked a question about O-Sensei, he would answer, but his answer was always that he was a different person from a different world, and that now it is a different time. Yamaguchi Sensei always respected Hombu Dojo and the Ueshiba’s family position but he didn’t answer questions or justify or explain what he was doing by using an appeal to authority.

When Yamaguchi Sensei passed away, Doshu said, “Two or three months ago, I did a demonstration and Yamaguchi Sensei was there. Yamaguchi Sensei came to me and said, ‘Your Aikido is very pure now…’” Just the fact that Doshu would share such a statement showed that he recognized Yamaguchi Sensei not as a superior, but yet as a very important person in the aikido world.

Two very different personalities, but really beautiful personalities.

Thank you for taking the time to chat with us, Sensei. I look forward to seeing you in San Francisco in May!

• If you’d like to learn more about Christian Tissier, we recommend this excellent biography by Guillaume Erard.
• Join Christian Tissier’s seminar in San Francisco, CA (May 26-28, 2023).

Malory Graham Sensei started Aikido training in 1988 with Paul Sylvain Sensei and founded Seattle Aikikai in 1997 as a community-run dojo. She received her 6th Dan from Yoshimitsu Yamada Shihan in 2014 and continues to develop her own training with Yoko Okamoto Sensei and Chris Mulligan Sensei of Aikido Kyoto.  Along with teaching Aikido and yoga, she has had tandem careers as a filmmaker and non-profit Executive Director. She has made films to promote women in Aikido and has been deeply committed to the social justice/youth development field.

Josh Gold: Thank you for taking the time to talk with Aikido Journal. Can you share a bit about your Aikido origin story? 

Malory Graham: When I first started Aikido in 1988 at Hampshire College, I had two pathways that I was interested in, both film production and Aikido, side-by-side. And for many years, I did both. I ran a film school for girls, specifically trying to get more women into the film industry in Hollywood, as well as running a dojo in Seattle.  

I’ve always loved having those two different components of my life. That interest led me to make Aikido videos in the ’90s which was a fun way to get to know the larger Aikido community, both nationally and internationally. I produced videos for some of the prominent Shihan (master teachers) in America, as well as making a documentary called Holding Up Half the Sky, which profiled 10 pioneering women in The United States Aikido Federation. That project took me all over the country interviewing women Aikido instructors who were running their own dojos. 

I know you’ve recently put a larger focus on analyzing and finding ways to improve diversity and inclusion in the Aikido world. Before the pandemic, Aikido Journal led the largest survey ever done in the art of Aikido. The results illuminated some important facts. There’s a real lack of young people in Aikido. Only 16% of Aikido practitioners are women, and we’re heavily underrepresented in Latino and black practitioners. What’s your current thinking on this?

Your study was really illuminating and got me thinking. So, if we are looking at an art that we all love, that we want to thrive, it really begs the question of “Who’s missing on the mat?” And if we want to grow the art, I think it makes sense to look at those missing demographics and figure out why they’re missing. If we want to grow the art, we should spend less time online arguing about the effectiveness of Aikido and instead put our energy towards getting these missing demographics involved.

If there is any martial art that has a philosophical underpinning that supports this idea of inclusion, I really do believe it’s Aikido. That is why the demographics are so troubling. I can count the number of African-American dojo-cho that I know on one hand. And you are more likely to see women running the registration table than teaching at some aikido camps. It’s 2022 and that is baffling to me.

If you are a dojo-cho and want to grow your dojo and the art, you should look at the census tipping point projections. Our white majority is going to tip in 2043 with a huge rise in both Asian and Hispanic Americans. For me, that’s fascinating to look at and ask, “How do we plan for that in our dojos?”

One of my favorite Martin Luther King Jr. quotes is “Love is not the answer. It is the assignment.” O-Sensei left us with the same mandate. So, as we look at inclusion in Aikido, it is a natural outgrowth of the physical practice of Aikido which is about creating harmony rather than control by force,  that we mirror that off the mat by cultivating diversity and lifting up minority populations. 

We talked about this in some detail when you contributed time to helping get Budo Accelerator off the ground during the pandemic. The organization has had pretty good success in building a diverse group of Aikido practitioners since then. We’ve been using my dojo as a home base to refine what we’re doing before partnering with dojos to run programs in other regions.  Even before Budo Accelerator, women comprised 50% of our dojo, but now 60% of students are in the 16-24 age group, and over 70% are non-white.  I can tell you that having an influx of young people from diverse backgrounds brings great energy into our dojo. Our dojo is better and stronger for the change.  

Yes! I was so inspired by working with Budo Accelerator students. It is a great example of ways that dojos can be proactive in attracting a younger diverse student body. And I think young people are hungry for what Aikido has to offer if it is presented in an inclusive way. 

Another project that I’ve been excited about is the new Aikido IDEA Project (Inclusion, Diversity, Equity & Access) under the leadership of Sam Taitel and César San Miguel. The goal is to help dojos have those hard but constructive conversations about who is missing from our mats. They are putting out a fabulous newsletter with thought-provoking articles as well as resources for dojos. The project is also giving away grant money for diversity and inclusion projects. It’s one thing to talk about making Aikido more inclusive, but another thing to do the work. And often that work needs money. 

What kind of diversity projects are they funding? 

Project ideas for these micro-grants (which are $250-$500) could be anything. They can be for either individuals or dojos and the only criteria is that they aim to “make the future of Aikido more inclusive.” They could be for a dojo that wants to offer diversity training for their membership and needs funds to hire a facilitator. It could cover the cost of putting instructors through sexual harassment prevention training. It could cover costs for an individual POC who has never had the opportunity to attend a summer camp.  There are endless possibilities of what this grant could fund. You can check out the online application on the website.

How do you think Aikido organizations are doing, in general, to foster diversity and inclusion? Do you think there is a need to have policies or guidelines in place at an organizational and / or a dojo level to support or address these things?

When we are looking at Aikido as being inclusive and non-discriminatory, in the best world, you have someone running a dojo or running an organization who is brilliant, ethical, and benevolent, without cultural bias–but that’s not always the case. So building in structures that are designed to prevent abuses of power and support diversity, is really important. It’s a reason why I think a nonprofit structure for a dojo or Aikido organization makes a lot of sense. 

Instead of a dojo-cho just assuming the ethical standards of leadership, you build in a system where it can’t just be one person on top making all the decisions, but there are checks and balances between a chief instructor and a board of directors.

In the last decade or so, corporations in America have had to completely revise their sexual harassment policies and their non-discrimination policies, purely from a risk management perspective. Any dojo or organization that does not have those things in place today, is operating at a risk because it’s behavior that may have been tolerated in the past, but no longer will be.

For those interested in learning more or getting guidelines and policies in place, do you have any pointers?

Yes! There is a new MeToo Aikido website created by Neilu Naini that has some useful resources, links to online trainings, as well as a self-assessment checklist that dojo can go through to determine if they have proper procedures in place regarding harassment issues.  It’s not meant to be a shaming tool. It’s really meant to be a self-analysis tool. And there is a basic pledge for both individuals and dojos to sign that is a good way to affirm your commitment to the belief that all people have the right to practice Aikido free of abuse.

But we also need to go deeper into the culture of organizations. We can put stuff on paper, and have all the anti-harassment stuff in place, but if people don’t realize that they are unconsciously participating in a culture that is discriminatory, there isn’t actually going to be real change. 

Thank you for your work in this area and for sharing your thoughts with the Aikido community. 

As we near the end of 2022, I wanted to provide a quick update to the Aikido community on what I, and Aikido Journal, have been up to since our last update, and what lies ahead. 

Aikido Pioneers: Postwar Era

I’m excited to announce that we’ve completed Aikido Pioneers: Postwar Era and will begin taking preorders next week. This is a project I’m very proud of, and one that would not be possible without the backers of Aikido Pioneers: Prewar Era. 

Aikido Pioneers: Postwar Era is an expansive hardbound volume containing Stanley Pranin’s interviews with many of the closest prostwar students of the founder of Aikido, published for the first time in book form. Stan dreamed of publishing this book, but illness took him before he could bring it to completion. I’m so glad that together, we can finally bring that dream to life. 

You’ll receive an email from us next week with details and instructions to preorder the book. We’ll accept preorders until December, after which we’ll print these numbered, limited edition books. We expect to deliver the books in March 2023. 

Aikido Journal Physical Archives

In partnership with Yoshiko Pranin, Stanley Pranin’s widow, we’ve begun the process of taking possession of, and indexing, the vast physical archives of Aikido Journal. Stan collected 8mm films, handwritten notes, scrolls, and many other artifacts related to the history of Aikido. 

As a first step, we’ve begun digitizing the 350+ hours of raw interview footage that Stan recorded on cassette tapes – many dating back to the 1970s. This is formidable project has been made possible by a few members of the Aikido community who have brought some valuable resources to the endeavor. 

Aikido Journal Members Site 

We’ve received a number of inquiries about the old Aikido Journal Members site. When I first took the helm at Aikido Journal, I communicated that the site was not viable for us to support, but that we would leave it up for as long as we could. The time has come for us to take the site down. It was built on 20-year-old technology, had a number of interwoven services that disappeared, and the site was impossible to defend against malware attacks. 

All of the articles on the Members site have been, or will be published, on our free public site. We are slowly converting the old instructional courses over to our new platform (Aikido Journal Academy). If you purchased a course on the old Members site, you’ll get a free copy of the updated version of that course when it’s released. We’ve already relaunched Ki Aikido with Koichi Tohei, and Nishio Aikido with Shoji Nishio. Over time, we plan on converting the Morihiro Saito course, as well as Stan Pranin’s Zone Theory courses. We have no expected release date for these right now. 

Budo Accelerator

It’s hard for me not to mention Budo Accelerator because it’s where most of my focus is right now. We’ve made great progress in 2022 and now have a proven model that uses Budo as a platform for education and social impact – in a way that is repeatable, measurable, and scalable. 

Some of the world’s leading universities have taken serious interest in our programs and we have more young people interested than we can support. Our fall programs for first-gen students at UC Irvine were oversubscribed within an hour of announcing them. By the end of 2022, we will have run programs for over 350 high school and college students.  

In 2023, we will begin pilot testing with 1-2 partner dojos in other geographic regions. After we test and refine our partnership model, we’ll be ready to scale our programs more broadly. We hope you’ll consider working with us when we’re ready to support a larger number of dojo partnerships. It’s a wonderful way to bring youth and diversity into your dojos, and to create real social impact in your community. 

In the interim, the best way to support us is through tax deductible donations. Every donor and every dollar builds momentum and opportunity for Budo Accelerator, and for the art of Aikido itself.  Please consider making a donation. Together we can do something amazing for young people – and for the art of Aikido. 

I’ve so grateful for the support and insights I’ve received from the Aikido community this year. The tenacity and resilience the community demonstrated as we’ve all emerged from the pandemic has been truly inspiring for me. 

A new year lies ahead. I’m optimistic about the future of Aikido, and our community.

Lisa Tomoleoni Shihan (6th dan Aikikai) spent almost 15 years in Japan training at the Aikido World Headquarters and teaching Aikido professionally at a dojo in Tokyo.  In addition to over 30 years Aikido experience, Lisa has black belt ranking in Judo and Iaido and is a member of the Kenshukan Dojo in Tokyo. She is Director of the Aikido Shimbokukai, an organization officially recognized by the Aikikai Foundation in Tokyo, Japan with nearly 50 member dojos, Chief Instructor of the Abiding Spirit Aikikai in Crystal Lake, IL, and an instructor at Jiai Aikido in San Diego, CA.

Lisa is also a coauthor of the book “Along the Way”, a collection of writings about training.

Thank you for taking the time to speak with Aikido Journal, Sensei. You lived in Japan almost 15 years. What inspired you to move there? 

First off, I wanted to thank you for the opportunity to share my experiences and perspective with you and the Aikido Journal community. As to Japan – I wanted to see what Aikido was like there, where it started. My original plan was to go for one year. I didn’t speak any Japanese except for Aikido technique names, basic greetings, and “that hurts”. It was really hard at first. I eventually learned the language by studying on my own and with the help of friends. 

My Iaido teacher, Takayama Takashi Sensei, was especially helpful. He would have me sit next to him whenever our group went to eat after training and teach me Japanese. He had me write “reviews” of events in the dojo and out, and he wanted them handwritten in Japanese.  He would read them and return them to me the next day with notes and corrections to grammar, in red pencil. Even after I moved back to the U.S., when I wrote him letters, he would send them back with red pencil corrections.

He passed away in 2009. He was very supportive and caring, though also very strict. I miss him and think about him every day. I wish I had been a better student to him. I didn’t think so then, but I realize now that I wasted a lot of opportunities. 

But my main focus was Aikido, and in the Aikido world, I had the opportunity to be an uchideshi at Shindo Dojo, a branch dojo of Hombu Dojo in Tokyo. It was a very traditional experience. I took care of the dojo. I did the office work and published a monthly newsletter in Japanese and English. I took care of things for the chief instructor, Shindo Sensei. I did the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and gardening. I drove her when she had to go places and made sure the car was spotless. There was a pottery studio I cared for as well, and I learned about making pottery, both ceramic and clay. It was 24/7.

Yoshiko Shindo Sensei was very demanding – very old school. It was a very strict environment, very controlling. It was hard not to lose myself – to keep my sense of autonomy. I learned about putting my ego aside. I learned about awareness. I learned about timing. I learned about being detail-oriented, about customs and etiquette. 

Between Aikido classes at Shindo Dojo and Hombu Dojo, and my Iaido and Judo, I was training 8 to 10 hours a day, usually seven days a week.  I even had the opportunity to train with the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Special Judo Team, which was quite the education. I was, at the time, the only foreigner training on a regular basis with them, and the only white belt. 

At Shindo Dojo, after some time, I was allowed to assist with classes and was later given the opportunity to teach some classes. After some years I was designated the successor to the dojo. When Shindo Sensei passed, I was to become the chief instructor of that dojo. I was legally adopted for that purpose. That was a huge honor. 

So I was supposed to stay, but there came a time when I realized I needed to return to America. My mother was getting older and my sisters had children who were strangers to me. I decided that, despite my commitment in Japan, it was time to go back to the U.S.

Before leaving Japan, I went to speak with Ueshiba Moriteru Doshu to thank him for everything he had done to support me during my time in Japan. He said, “Lisa, go back to Chicago, start a dojo and connect with me.” That hadn’t occurred to me, but when Doshu says that, the only answer is “Yes, Sensei”, so I did. 

Was this the inspiration behind the founding of the Aikido Shimbokukai organization?

Yes. As I started becoming more acclimated to being back in the U.S. and its Aikido community, some people wanted to join together with me. A couple years after I had returned to the U.S. my dear friend Meido Moore Shihan, who I’ve known for over 30 years, asked if I had thought about forming an organization. I hadn’t but we began putting a structure together in 2005. After that, quite organically, more people and more dojo connected. At that time, there were basically two ways to connect with Hombu – one was through a relationship between Hombu and one individual, the other was a relationship between Hombu and an organization. Ours was the first method originally, based on my time at Hombu and teaching in Japan. However, I didn’t want it to be about me. I wanted it to be about us, the organization as a whole. So we applied for official recognition as an organization from the Aikikai, which we received in 2014. We have 47 dojo right now and about 750 members. So we’re not a large organization but we’re a happy one. 

What is the organization’s top priority?  

To provide a connection to the Aikikai and Home Dojo for our members, and to empower people to follow their own paths in Aikido. Our organization does not follow the style of one teacher with everyone in the same lineage. We’re not a purebred. We’re a mutt. We have people from different lineages, different backgrounds, different styles, all coming together. Nobody is saying “My style is better than your style.” The only thing that we are very adamant about is following Hombu Dojo’s ranking and organizational guidelines. Everybody supports and respects each other. I’m grateful that our organization is cohesive and there’s no drama. 

What’s your vision for Aikido Shimbokukai? 

My vision, and that of our Advisory Board and others who have helped build the organization, is to be an entity that connects people to Hombu Dojo, and gives as much guidance and input as people want without micromanaging. To provide a vehicle that empowers people to follow their own path in Aikido and evolve in the way that they wish without judgment, without controlling, and without shutting people down. 

Also, to build and maintain good relationships with others in the Aikido community, and to collaborate and be of service whenever we can. For example, during the early part of the pandemic it was not possible to receive packages from Japan through the postal service. So one of our folks, Kraig Rice Sensei, organized a FedEx pickup and delivery so we could get our certificates. We reached out to other organizations and included their stuff in the shipment, and we all worked together to help the community. Doshu Moriteru Ueshiba often speaks of “Wa”, harmony. This is important to us.

Another way we build community is by organizing inter-organization seminars. Ikeda Sensei started the Bridge seminars 18 years ago at Jiai Aikido in San Diego and Shimbokukai helps with that event every year. We also host the Midwest Bridge seminar series, as well as a range of other events every year.

Tell me about your relationship with Ikeda Sensei, who is your senpai in Aikido but your Vice-President. What are the dynamics like between you at the organizational level?

I treasure our relationship, even though I am not of his style and lineage. I met Ikeda Sensei a number of years ago and invited him to teach seminars at my dojo for a number of years running. At one of those seminars, he broached the topic of joining Shimbokukai. 

I was so grateful for two reasons. One, I was very touched that he saw something in the organization that he liked and wanted to be a part of. And secondly, I was grateful for the opportunity to be of service to him because he does so much for the Aikido world. If I could give a little back and support him in some way, I was grateful for the opportunity to do that. 

In Shimbokukai, he’s the Vice President and a member of the Grading Committee and the Advisory Board. When he joined, some of the people at Hombu were a little confused and I was asked by a couple instructor/staff member friends at Hombu, “is Ikeda Sensei taking over the organization?” I said “No. He’s not. We work together.” 

You’ve been running some large-scale hybrid events recently. Can you tell us how these events started and evolved? 

The pandemic has been horrible in many ways. As everyone knows, when the lockdown hit, everything shut down. In May of 2020, we organized a virtual bridge seminar with instructors from all over the world. We had about 175 attendees. It was one of the first virtual seminars that was held after the pandemic hit. The format was so successful, we’ve run many online and hybrid events since. 

And when things started opening up after the pandemic, I didn’t want to abandon that format. To say, “Now we can train in person, so all you people in other parts of the world, we don’t need you anymore.”  – that didn’t make sense to me. So we started doing hybrid events. Individuals could join from wherever they are and train solo, but also could gather in their dojo and train together, while receiving instruction via Zoom. And these sorts of hybrid opportunities seem to be working for people.

It’s a great way to build bridges and community.  The pandemic forced everyone to get Zoom capability in their dojo, so the infrastructure is everywhere now. To be able to have people gather in their own dojo and open a window to teachers and communities in other parts of the world is wonderful.

One thing I’d like to point out is that it requires a strong team to do these larger scale events successfully. I have not done this alone. I mean, I’m really technologically-impaired. Kay Rudisill and Gary Marks are two people who have been pivotal to the success of these events. They took care of all of the technical aspects for so many events, not just for Shimbokukai but for other organizations as well. They’ve been really instrumental in keeping the Aikido community together through the pandemic.

By the way, I’m very excited to work with you to create a large-scale virtual / hybrid Budo Accelerator fundraising seminar later this year. I look forward to sharing more about this in the days ahead.

What do you think is the greatest challenge and opportunity facing the art of Aikido today?

It’s hard to pare it down to one greatest challenge, because so many things are connected… I think one issue right now is the number, age, and diversity of practitioners. In addition to having more people train, we need to reach different populations and age groups. We truly need for Aikido to become a global practice in all senses, not just from the perspective of how many different countries Aikido is practiced in.

Another challenge is that people need to better clarify their path in Aikido and their dojo’s path, because there are many misconceptions about what Aikido is. There’s a broad spectrum of how Aikido can be manifested; what aspects are valued. Some people practice as a martial art for self-defense, other people practice as artistic expression, or for health, and so on.

I think it’s wonderful that there are a variety of forms of expression. I would hate to see that go away. I think everybody should be free to pursue their own path but let’s define what our individual path is, or our dojo path is, so we can be clear for ourselves, our students, and others.

How has your perspective on Aikido changed over time?

In my early days in Aikido, it was all about how hard I could throw somebody and about strong, effective techniques. But as time went by, I’ve become of the mindset that it’s about learning how to manage myself through the techniques. Of course, I want the techniques to be effective. But they are, in many ways for me now, a vehicle for learning how to manage myself physically, mentally, and emotionally. Learning how to conduct myself in a relationship with somebody else. 

Is there anything else you’d like to share with the Aikido community?

First, the COVID pandemic was rough in many ways. For our community, it took its toll. A lot of people dropped away from Aikido. A lot of dojo weren’t able to stay open. Those of us who are still training, the dojo that are still in existence, everyone should be proud of themselves. Everyone should recognize how important that is and the efforts that it took to do that. It’s something to acknowledge for yourself and others, and to value.

The other thing is related to that. When I was living in Japan and training in Iaido, I went to the dojo four times a week and trained for four hours each time. I was training hard. One day, my teacher called across the floor, “Lisa-san – Go home.” I said, “What? Excuse me?” He said, “Go home. You’re not valuing your training. You’re wasting my time and yours. Pack up your stuff, change, and go home.” I was mortified. I asked him to let me say and said I would do better. he was unmoving. 

Before I left, I went and bowed to him and said thank you. He told me not to come back until he called for me. He told me not even to pick up my sword or practice at home. He said not to even come to the dojo to clean. 

I was upset at first. “Why is he doing this to me?” Then I went home and thought about things. I realized that I had been training hard but was just going through the motions. After two weeks, my senpai called and told me Sensei wanted me to come to the dojo the next day. I got my uniform ready, packed my stuff up, made sure my sword was clean and I went back to the dojo with a new feeling.

I had taken my training for granted without even realizing it. I vowed I would never do that again. And then the pandemic hit and I couldn’t get my hands on anybody to train, couldn’t be in the dojo to train, and I realized I had done it again. I had taken training for granted. 

I want to invite people not to take their training for granted, not take things for granted, both inside and outside of the Aikido world. I’m suggesting we all keep this in mind, myself as well, of course. Aikido is a wonderful gift to the world and can provide opportunities for all kinds of development and change. Let’s cherish this art of ours, keep it going, and appreciate what it gives us. Things are impermanent. Let’s all appreciate our training while we can, and have gratitude for it and each other. 

In Spring 2022, Yoshimitsu Yamada Sensei sat down with Josh Gold at San Francisco Aikikai to discuss his time as an uchi-deshi, his perspective on aikido’s growth and evolution over his almost 70 years of experience in the art, and his thoughts on the student-teacher relationship in aikido.

Yoshimitsu Yamada Sensei (8th dan shihan) was accepted into the Hombu Dojo uchi-deshi program (live-in apprentice) in 1955 to study directly with the Morihei Ueshiba, the founder of aikido. While in the program, Yamada also studied under Kisshomaru Ueshiba, Koichi Tohei and Kisaburo Osawa. An invitation to demonstrate aikido at the 1964 World’s Fair brought Yamada to New York City. He stayed on to become Chief Instructor at the New York Aikikai and has since become one of the most important figures in the introduction and spread of aikido in the United States. In addition to holding the role of Chief Instructor at NY Aikikai, Yoshimitsu Yamada is the Chairman of the United States Aikido Federation, the largest aikido organization in the United States with over 200 member dojos.

Josh Gold: What was it like at Hombu Dojo when you trained there as a young man? Do you still have clear memories of those times? 

Yoshimitsu Yamada: Well, that was a long time ago but I do still remember many things from that part of my life. I started aikido when I was 18 years old. My situation was quite unique because my first day as an uchi-deshi was my first day of aikido. I had never practiced aikido before but made a commitment to a long period of hard training. I knew of aikido through my uncle, which is why I was accepted as uchi-deshi. I felt really fortunate because at that time very few people were accepted into that kind of training program, and those who were had to practice regularly at the dojo for a while before they were able to apply as an uchi-deshi.  I was so happy to be able to take advantage of that opportunity. 

How many hours a day were you practicing back then?

Usually about 5 classes a day. There was a class at 6:30am, 8:00am, 3:00pm, 5:00pm and 6:30pm. And whenever O-Sensei and Doshu had a private lesson for a VIP, it was our responsibility to be there to take ukemi for the student. Sometimes those students were not my favorite to practice with, but since they were VIPs, I always had to be polite. It was a tough job.  

When you started aikido as uchi deshi, did you have any idea that you’d make a career out of teaching aikido?

Not at all. I went into my training just being happy to have the opportunity to learn aikido. We uchi-deshi never even thought about it in those days.  Aikido was very small then, even in Tokyo. The only people who could make a living teaching aikido was the Ueshiba family. 

What was your relationship like with the Ueshiba family at that time? 

Kisshomaru Doshu and his wife were very nice to me. I’ll never forget the kindness and hospitality they showed me. I was only 18 years old and as an uchi-deshi had to cook for myself. Kisshomaru Doshu’s wife let me use her personal kitchen to prepare my breakfast. Unbelievable! As I get older, I appreciate the Ueshiba family more and more. 

Did people get injured often in those days?

I never had any terrible injuries myself, but it was hard to tell how often others were injured. Back then, if someone was injured, they would be ashamed to say anything or show that they were hurt. It would be revealing your weakness to others. You’d just deal with it quietly on your own. Most of us felt that if we were injured, it was our fault. Perhaps we hesitated or made a mistake taking ukemi. Now that I think back, accidents and injuries probably happened many times. 

The mentality around injuries is much different these days. Nowadays, people have no hesitation to acknowledge injuries. We’re in a different time and a different place now, so I can’t criticize the way we did it back then, nor the way things are now. It was just a different world. What worked for us back then is probably not a good approach for us today. 

What are the main differences you see in aikido between then and now?

I’m a teacher now, so my mentality is different. As a teacher and someone leading an organization, it makes me happy to see so many people involved. It’s good that aikido is so inclusive, that everyone can practice equally, and that aikido has no competitions. But because of this, people can take advantage of the system – and some do.  Especially people who become teachers. Some teachers will say, “There shouldn’t be koshinage in aikido, it’s brutal.” That’s just one example but there are all kinds of mentalities. Aikido is very free, but sometimes too free. That’s dangerous. People can take advantage of the goodness of aikido. It’s so easy to become a teacher nowadays, probably too easy. 

Another thing I’ve seen is that many people nowadays start aikido in a club at college. I see this in America, but even more in Japan. It’s a good way to introduce people to aikido but it creates a different mentality for the student, right from the beginning. It’s a school activity, a club. It’s not budo. The circumstance and environment create a very different level of commitment. It changes the student-teacher relationship. And since aikido has become more popular and commercial, there’s nothing you can do. So from a teacher’s point of view, I’m very happy to see everybody training, but on the other hand, it makes it much harder to maintain quality levels in aikido. In Japan, most people who start aikido in college automatically get their nidan after four years when they graduate. This doesn’t make sense to me. In a way, I feel sorry for them because they don’t have the same kind of opportunity and experience we had. 

I started aikido at the age of 19 and I trained hard, 5-6 days a week. One thing I notice about young people coming into the art today is they think they can train once a week and they’re going to make meaningful progress. 

I see that too, but I don’t blame them if they think that way. Circumstances are different now, but I hope as time goes on, things will change. This is one of the advantages of starting aikido in a dojo. Automatically, it’s budo. The atmosphere is based in budo from the very beginning. But honestly, I don’t see many young people in aikido now anyway. Sometimes when I go to lead seminars, I only see older people. No young people on the mat.

You mentioned the student-teacher relationship. What are your thoughts on the student-teacher relationship in aikido now, after so many decades of teaching? 

Teachers should create an atmosphere of honesty and respect. I don’t like a student who only says “yes” to the teacher or agrees with everything they say. If a student has something to say- if something’s wrong, say it. That’s a more honest relationship. But do that with respect. I know it’s difficult to be honest and respectful at the same time, but it’s the kind of relationship I want to see. It’s something I learned from Doshu Kisshomaru and saw in his personality. That’s why I respect him so much.

You run the United States Aikido Federation, the largest aikido organization in the United States. What’s your vision for the future of the USAF and what do you think are the most important things you’d like to see carry forward?

That’s a good question and one of the reasons I have a hard time sleeping every night. I think about this a lot. Once, I was discussing this with Tamura Sensei and, I asked, “Have you prepared some kind of directive for your organization after you pass away?” He said, “Forget about it. Even if I tell them what to do, once I’m gone, they’ll have their own ideas anyway.” Now I understand what he meant. (laughs)

I’m very glad that many people say the USAF is good, and I think so too. But there will always be problems, And the bigger you are, the more people and activities there are going on, the more problems will show up. That’s just how it is. I hope we can keep improving and I hope that after I’m gone, others can continue the tradition. Of course, there are always people who have different ideas and it can be difficult to work together. Everybody has their own ego and opinion – we’re all human beings. But people can disagree and still work together. We can’t force people to think a certain way. You don’t have to be friends. You don’t even have to like each other, but that doesn’t mean you should be destructive or be disrespectful to each other.

From a technical perspective, I like to see very pure technique and strong basics. Nothing fancy. Today, some aikido looks very fancy, especially on social media, but people who know can tell that kind of aikido has nothing inside. It looks fancy, but it’s empty and lacks fundamentals. Unfortunately, some instructors are like this. They look fancy and have bad technique – you can tell the uke is not even having their balance broken.  It’s part of what I meant when I say that aikido today is too free. It’s important to be responsible with that freedom and remember the basics – irimi, connecting, harmonizing. And if you have those basics and they are strong, then you can be fancy. 

How does it feel to get out again and do seminars after the pandemic? How’s the community?

It was very difficult in the beginning, but now I’m getting back in shape. I didn’t realize how physically weak one can become after two years with almost no training. I really missed seeing people and their experiencing their kindness and their devotion to aikido and the dojo they belong to. I missed having a normal time. So now, I really appreciate this moment. I think we’re strong when we’re together. That’s why I say at the beginning of class that I appreciate everybody’s support and devotion to the dojo they belong to. 

It’s wonderful to see the huge gathering of people from many dojos who gathered for your seminar here in San Francisco. The aikido community here is strong and people seem very supportive of each other. Is it the same way in New York?

Well, that’s the history of aikido in California, isn’t it? Yes, it’s great to see people like Patricia Hendricks, Jimmy (Friedman) and all these people from different dojos and teachers show up. In New York, it’s not really like this. People get together, but it’s not like the community here in California.

What do you think it is about you that draws so many people together? 

I don’t really know. I don’t think I do anything special. Maybe it’s my personality (laughs).

To be continued in Part 2. Coming soon.

The following editorial was contributed by Jason Perna of Old City Aikido.

When I first stepped on an Aikido mat, O-Sensei had only been gone for about 20 years. My teachers still spoke of him often and instilled a very strong sense that O-Sensei was the absolute source and represented the pinnacle of martial understanding, a level that none of us who followed should reasonably hope to achieve. 

His first-generation students, having all become teachers themselves, were all still alive and actively helping to spread the art, and as I began to encounter some of them, the message was quite similar. They all protected him very carefully and spoke of him in a way that preserved that sense of awe-inspiring devotion. The practice was mostly that of preservation – very careful preservation – without much room for experimentation or innovation. I didn’t question any of it at the time, but now, decades later, I am left to wonder if the message was the right one for the future of the art, or at least whether it was properly understood. 

Since it was reasoned that no one else would ever be like O-Sensei, and he was now gone, how could the art ever hope to evolve or improve? Since the mandate of preservation is always accompanied by some level of deterioration, each generation was left to grapple with the notion that they were simply not as proficient or significant as the last. 

Hélio Gracie is widely acknowledged as the founder of Gracie Jiu-Jitsu, yet in contrast to the culture I just described, there are probably very few modern jiu-jitsu practitioners who believe Hélio’s game would stand up to the scrutiny of today’s competitors. Competition and daily pressure testing have led to continual refinement and innovation, and, as a result, the modern art has evolved significantly. You know what, I’ll bet Hélio would be very proud of that legacy, proud to have poured his heart into something that has likely surpassed his greatest expectations. You know what else, I’ll bet O-Sensei would be proud of such a circumstance as well, proud to imagine that future generations of Aikido practitioners might refine and expand upon his vision, rather than merely being in awe of it. What great teacher, after all, does not wish to see their art refined and improved upon by those who follow? I think the best way to honor O-Sensei is to move the art forward in a way that is sincere, relevant, innovative, and includes the scrutiny that I believe he himself would have demanded.

Of what use am I to my students if my goal is only to be some diminished version of my teachers? I believe I should instead be working as hard as possible to go beyond the understanding of my teachers, not for the purpose of highlighting my own accomplishments, but as means of demonstrating to my students a path to someday surpass me as well. It is my wish for all of them to do so. I embrace a perspective that looks ahead with enthusiasm, and dares to believe that we might take the art further than even O-Sensei could have imagined. 

Steady on…

Kayla Feder Sensei, 7th dan, Aikikai, is the Dojo-Cho of Aikido of Berkeley. In 1973 at age of 9 Kayla fell in love with Aikido and now has almost 50 years of continuous training in the art. For the first 20 years of her practice, she was greatly inspired by her training under Morihiro Saito Sensei. In 1980 Kayla traveled to Iwama, Japan to train with Morihiro Saito as an uchi deshi (live-in apprentice). During subsequent trips to study Aikido in Japan, Kayla trained under many direct students of the founder of Aikido, including Kisshomaru Ueshiba, Seiichi Sugano, Motomichi Anno, and Kazuo Chiba. Since childhood she has also practiced with and been strongly influenced by Frank Doran, Robert Nadeau, and Hiroshi Ikeda. In addition to running Aikido of Berkeley, Kayla teaches seminars throughout the U.S., Europe, and Israel and holds a Masters degree in Holistic Health Education.

Josh Gold: Thank you for joining us today, Sensei. You started Aikido when you were very young. What attracted you to the art?

Kayla Feder: I knew I was passionate about Aikido the day I walked into my first dojo in 1973 at age nine. I had been practicing baseball and soccer. I loved sports and moving my body, but I  didn’t like the idea of one team winning and another team losing. 

When I found Aikido, I was elated. I still remember that first day- just racing home and saying, “Mom, I have to do this. Please sign me up.” And somehow I just knew that Aikido was going to be in my life.

Tell me about your first experience as an Aikido teacher.

When I was 17 years old, some family friends asked me to teach in a town called Benicia, which is about half an hour from Berkeley. I knew I wanted to play a role in sharing Aikido with others so I agreed and started teaching at a youth activity center there. I loved it, and it grew. Before I was 18, I had opened a dedicated private dojo in Benecia. I don’t think that could happen so easily now. 

How did you even sign the dojo lease as a minor?

I don’t know. I just signed it and got started. Twelve years later when the landlord found out how old I was, he said, “I never would’ve leased to you if I had known you were 17 years old.” In those days, we didn’t have the beautiful Zebra mats we have now. We put down tire shavings and then had a sail company make canvas covers with grommets for the mat cover. We were really resourceful in getting started. But yeah, I didn’t really think about the fact that I was opening a dojo and becoming a Chief Instructor at age 17. I just did it.

Did you encounter any challenges in terms of teacher-student dynamics due to your age?

I had a lot of students in their 30s, 40s, 50s. It didn’t seem to bother anybody. I don’t know that a lot of them knew how old I was. My mom told me I was always confident in my role there, but I also knew my limitations. Perhaps that’s why I didn’t have challenges with my students.

What’s most important lesson you learned from that experience?

Always be open to growth and learning from the students. I came to the conclusion that as a Chief Instructor, it’s important not to use the position to isolate yourself or think of yourself as better than your students. If one does that, openness to growing and learning is gone. Never let the ego run the show, always be openhearted about learning and changing. And the longer I teach the more I find I have to learn.

You’ve been practicing aikido for almost 50 years now. How has your own understanding and personal expression of the art changed over time?

I started in Iwama lineage, which I feel is a beautiful way to begin training. Saito Sensei’s way of teaching was very canonical, very step oriented. Looking back, I’m really grateful that’s where I began. There was so much clarity. Clarity in what to do with your hands and feet.

One way to think about building skill in a system like Aikido is by visualizing a pyramid. The bottom of the pyramid is the foundational movements – big, broad, movements and core mechanics. So as you build the pyramid, when you get to the top, the foundation is there to support it.

I think it’s really important that at a certain point in a person’s learning of any art, they begin to go free. My image of my own Aikido is through the lens of that pyramid. I feel that the bricks on the bottom are really clear and well crafted. And I’m so grateful to Saito Sensei and even to Bruce (Klickstien) for having supplied that clarity.

But at some point, I remember feeling like, okay, I can do aikido in this way, but I want to find a way to become freer. So at a young age, I started to broaden my training experiences. I went to summer camps, including the San Rafael Aikido camp for a week, every year.

I met Frank Doran Sensei, Bob Nadeau Sensei, Terry Dobson, and got introduced to Ikeda Sensei. I was introduced to these people at a young age and loved what they were doing. And through those experiences, I started exploring other ways of moving and looking at the art. I feel that Doran Sensei has really been a major influence on my Aikido and my teaching. And although I wasn’t his direct student, I have trained with him a lot and almost think of him as a grandfather figure. 

So that really clear step by step practice, that canonical way of learning was wonderful. It took me a long time to break out of that shell. One of the things that keeps me going and inspires me now, is to continually think about how to improve my teaching and my own practice. I’ve always felt awed by the hugeness of Aikido.

You mentioned earlier that sports or activities with organized competitions didn’t really resonate with you. Through Budo Accelerator, I’m introducing aikido to an increasing number of young people. Many of our college students tell me one of the most attractive things about aikido is that it’s a martial art they can practice that’s not competitive. They tell me they have enough competition academically and want a way to build a skill and develop meaningful connections without competitive pressures.

What kind of abuse?

Emotionally, generally. But my first aikido teacher, Bruce Klickstien, was both physically abusive and emotionally abusive. 

Bruce Klickstein was your first aikido teacher. And in the 1970s, he abused you. Most people would despise a person like him, and everything about him. Yet a couple of times today, I’ve heard you say that you’re thankful to Bruce in some ways.  How do you find a place in your heart to be able to say positive things about somebody who was horrible to you- and other people?

That’s a really good question. I completely forgive him. I don’t forgive what he did, and he should never be allowed to do that to anyone again, but I forgive him. He’s another human being. And my hope is that he’s growing and changing and learning. I’m very fortunate because I’ve been able to work through what happened to me and because of it, I’m a wiser, stronger, better person. And if I were hating him, I would still be stuck in that place. So I’m actually very grateful to him and still feel fortunate that his Aikido school was walking distance from my house when I was a kid. 

Thank you for sharing that with us. I really admire the resilience and compassion you show related to this very unfortunate part of your early Aikido experience. Let’s switch gears a little bit. I was fortunate enough to take your class last night and I saw you leading special training for a couple folks who are getting ready for their shodan (first-degree black belt) test. How do you think about preparing people for their shodan test and as a teacher, what does the rank of shodan mean in your eyes?

Shodan means beginning. When somebody earns their shodan, they’re ready to really start their Aikido journey. The process of practicing regularly and intensely is so good for us as human beings. Preparing for your black belt test can really bring the intensity of one’s practice to a very high level, but in a positive way. I also find my own relationship with students training for a test becomes closer through the process. We learn more from one another in this period of focused preparation.

Also, the idea of a rite of passage is really important to me. We don’t get that enough in our culture and this particular rite of passage is something everyone can appreciate and participate in because it’s not tied to a particular religion or culture. I think it’s so special for somebody to work hard at something, commit themselves, put their heart and soul into what they’re doing, and then see the benefit and attain their goal.

At my dojo, Aikido of Berkeley, I purposefully have adults keep a white belt until shodan. And a person doesn’t wear hakama, whether they’re male or female, until shodan. Then on the day of a shodan test, I make a big deal out of it. I get their belts embroidered with calligraphy. I choose a calligraphy for their belt – they can have their name, or I choose a kanji that’s meaningful for them. We get the hakama embroidered and these people are honored on that day. I put them through a lot. I mean, I really put them through the grinder. We make them work, and then they come out of it feeling really good about themselves.

Do you have anything else you’d like to share with the Aikido community at large, or even Aikido instructors specifically? 

Don’t stop growing. Those were O-Sensei’s words.  There’s never an end to our growth. As Aikido practitioners and human beings, look around you for the people who can help you grow in life. Every person and every situation can be our teacher. If you’re regretting anything you’ve done, or a decision you’ve made – look at it as another opportunity to grow, learn, change and become a better more effective person. We can all do this, and the art of Aikido is a wonderful way to train our capacity for this.

You may have noticed that we’ve taken a hiatus from publishing the last few months. And although you’ve not seen many new articles recently, much has been going on behind the scenes at Aikido Journal.

Aikido Journal Academy

We’ve updated the Aikido Journal Academy site, where most of our video and book products can now be found. We upgraded some of our older courses and products and made them available on our new (and better) platform. You can now find video courses and books on the site from (or featuring) masters such as Koichi Tohei, Morihiro Saito, Shoji Nishio, T.K Chiba, and others. We plan on modernizing more of our product catalog and making it available here later this year. 

Aikido Pioneers: Postwar Era

Our first print project in 20 years, the limited edition Aikido Pioneers: Prewar Era, generated more interest than expected, and people loved the finished product. Many asked if there would be an Aikido Pioneers: Postwar Era. Stanley Pranin and Aikido Journal had never published this book, but we discovered a nearly complete manuscript in the archives.

Aikido Pioneers: Postwar Era was a project that Stan would have loved to see come to life. I think he’d be proud of what we did with his Prewar Pioneers book and I know he’d be delighted to learn that we’ve now made a commitment to publish his unreleased Postwar Pioneers book. This important book contains interviews with teachers many of us have trained with – Moriteru Ueshiba, Morihiro Saito, Shoji Nishio, Yoshimitsu Yamada, Mitsunari Kanai, T.K. Chiba, and many others. We’re now in a pre-production phase and will soon make a formal announcement about the release of this new limited edition tome. 

Interviews

As lockdowns eased, it’s been wonderful to travel again to other dojos. In recent months, I’ve had the opportunity to train with teachers like Yoshimitsu Yamada, Mitsugi Saotome, Frank Doran, Patricia Hendricks, Michael Friedl, Kayla Feder, Penny Bernath, Peter Bernath, Jimmy Friedman, Lee Lavi, Jim Alvarez, Philip Greenwood, Jim Graves, Ray Feliciano, Don Ellingsworth, and Guy Hagen.

In the coming months, you’ll start to see new interviews and editorials – including one with Yoshimitsu Yamada, now 84 years old. You’ll also be able to access more of Aikido Journal’s older interviews as we continue to republish content that was previously behind a paywall. 

Budo Accelerator

On a personal level, I’ve also been intensely focused on building Budo Accelerator. The pace and strategic challenges of building an aikido-based social impact organization for scale have been formidable. 

We’ve gotten major educational institutions and philanthropic foundations to take a serious look at Budo as a new platform for social impact and education, and young people love the programs. 

All this would not be possible without the support of the aikido community. I’d like to extend a heartfelt thanks to everyone who has partnered with us as instructors, curriculum designers, mentors, donors, fundraisers, and advisors. Through our combined efforts, we’ve done good things both for young people facing formidable life challenges, and for the art of aikido. 

I’ll have more exciting news to share in the coming months about Budo Accelerator’s progress. We have big plans and we’re just getting started. 

The Post-Pandemic Pioneers 

It’s been wonderful to see the aikido community emerging from the pandemic and our dojos coming back to life. The last 2 years have been devastating for the aikido world. Much has been lost, but we grew stronger in some important ways. I believe that with creativity and determination, we can make something better than we had before. People are looking for new ways to connect and build human relationships. I believe the art we all love so much can play a bigger role in providing this fundamental human need as we find our way out of a time of social isolation and polarization. 

When we kicked off our project to publish Aikido Pioneers: Postwar Era, I couldn’t help but think that all of us are the post-pandemic pioneers and we are creating the history of a new era of aikido now. Let’s do our very best to learn from each other, keep the best of who we are and what we are doing, and be willing to leave behind the things that hold us back.   

A new age of aikido lies before us, and it’s ours to shape.

With gratitude and friendship,

Josh Gold

The following editorial was contributed by Jason Perna of Old City Aikido.

When I first stepped on an Aikido mat, O-Sensei had only been gone for about 20 years. My teachers still spoke of him often and instilled a very strong sense that O-Sensei was the absolute source and represented the pinnacle of martial understanding, a level that none of us who followed should reasonably hope to achieve. 

His first-generation students, having all become teachers themselves, were all still alive and actively helping to spread the art, and as I began to encounter some of them, the message was quite similar. They all protected him very carefully and spoke of him in a way that preserved that sense of awe-inspiring devotion. The practice was mostly that of preservation – very careful preservation – without much room for experimentation or innovation. I didn’t question any of it at the time, but now, decades later, I am left to wonder if the message was the right one for the future of the art, or at least whether it was properly understood. 

Since it was reasoned that no one else would ever be like O-Sensei, and he was now gone, how could the art ever hope to evolve or improve? Since the mandate of preservation is always accompanied by some level of deterioration, each generation was left to grapple with the notion that they were simply not as proficient or significant as the last. 

Hélio Gracie is widely acknowledged as the founder of Gracie Jiu-Jitsu, yet in contrast to the culture I just described, there are probably very few modern jiu-jitsu practitioners who believe Hélio’s game would stand up to the scrutiny of today’s competitors. Competition and daily pressure testing have led to continual refinement and innovation, and, as a result, the modern art has evolved significantly. You know what, I’ll bet Hélio would be very proud of that legacy, proud to have poured his heart into something that has likely surpassed his greatest expectations. You know what else, I’ll bet O-Sensei would be proud of such a circumstance as well, proud to imagine that future generations of Aikido practitioners might refine and expand upon his vision, rather than merely being in awe of it. What great teacher, after all, does not wish to see their art refined and improved upon by those who follow? I think the best way to honor O-Sensei is to move the art forward in a way that is sincere, relevant, innovative, and includes the scrutiny that I believe he himself would have demanded.

Of what use am I to my students if my goal is only to be some diminished version of my teachers? I believe I should instead be working as hard as possible to go beyond the understanding of my teachers, not for the purpose of highlighting my own accomplishments, but as means of demonstrating to my students a path to someday surpass me as well. It is my wish for all of them to do so. I embrace a perspective that looks ahead with enthusiasm, and dares to believe that we might take the art further than even O-Sensei could have imagined. 

Steady on…

This short editorial is contributed by Don Ellingsworth Sensei (5th dan), who is a Head Instructor and Founder of Aikido Chuseikan in Tampa Bay, Florida. He is a direct student of Mitsugi Saotome Sensei and is the Administrator of the ASU, one of the largest Aikido organizations in the United States. 

Aikido can be a beautiful framework for self-discovery.  Of the many wonderful things about the art is the way we are able to practice with dignity, defined as composure and a sense of self-respect. Dignity is not just reserved for the person doing the throwing, but also for the person receiving the technique.  Realized to its full potential, this is a truly beautiful thing to experience.

My own tendency when training is to become competitive, to want to throw my partner, or in some way show superior skill, strength, or technique.  For me, the more common model seen in a fighting art only feeds this instinct and leads me into the binary solution of win or lose. Therefore, these days, the purpose of my Aikido training is to move beyond that model–to one where there is another solution to conflict.

When the Founder changed his martial art from Bujitsu to Aikido, one of the differences that manifested was the intention found within the practice; that of moving away from a practice of destruction toward one of harmony. In this search for harmony, the practice of offering dignity can point the way.

I consider Aikido to be a martial art for the modern world, a world where I am fortunate to live my life consistently near the top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.  My daily energy is not spent defending my life, but instead, trying to improve the quality of it.  And on better days, it is spent trying to improve the quality of life around me. We live in a society built on community, tribes, families–all kinds of different social constructs.  Our place in this framework is largely based on our own behaviors. When we treat ourselves and the people around us with dignity, we show an understanding that we are all connected, and that the quality of life of the ‘other’ is connected to our own quality of life.

Within the movements of Aikido, there are many opportunities to offer dignity to our partner.  Consider the relationship of uke and nage; uke’s role is set from the beginning to accept the movement, to maintain balance and to continue the attack.  At the same time, nage is tasked with accepting the initial attack, then guiding the partner in such a way that resolution is achieved (utilizing the principles of Aikido).  All the while, it is expected that if nage releases some pressure or breaks the connection, uke will regain their balance to their own dignified posture, often resulting in a continuation of the attack.

At their best, the movements of Aikido are graceful and powerful. When intercepting the attack with Aiki, we don’t hit or crush our partner, we offer them a way out of the conflict that allows them to maintain their dignity. Going a step further, we actually offer them protection, and one more step, guiding them to the mat into a pin could even turn into a needed stretch.

One way to approach the role of uke is to frame your attack as a “gift” to nage, as in: “I am breaking my natural connection with the universe to launch an attack and I want that gift to be well received. I want nage to succeed but also be challenged. I will stay engaged with the way nage responds to my challenge, attempting to minimize my own judgment and simply be a partner in our movement together.” When taking the role of uke, offer your attack. Be attuned to how the partner is responding and give them the dignity of your mindful attention through your best ukemi.

In our daily life, this could be like asking someone a question, “How are you doing?” There are many ways to ask this question.  You could ask it and then look down at your phone. You could yell it to a co-worker while running past her on the way to a meeting. You could ask your spouse, and then roll over to go to sleep before an answer is given. Alternatively, we could look at our partner, make a connection, be engaged in the reply, and allow it to unfold into a conversation about our deep concerns and hopes for the future. Interacting with people in this way shows honor, respect, and… dignity.

Saotome Sensei has said many times that the purpose of Aikido is nothing short of retraining our natural instinct to become one of global concern, respect, and compassion.  I believe that if we take a dignified approach to our practice, it can help put us on this noble path.