How do we learn what we know? How do we choose our teachers? The articles and stories in this newsletter share a common theme, focusing on how we shape ourselves as students and teachers. One day in class, I asked the children to tell me what teachings of O'sensei inspired them the most. "You first," they said. I figured if I was going to ask this question of the children, I had better answer it myself. Below is an attempt to respond to their request by discussing what particular Aikido teachings guide me every day.

Teachers can have a profound influence on our lives. Recently a student asked me if I would write about how I found my teachers. What a question! As I think about the teachers who have influenced my training, I can't't avoid noting the significance of my parents as the first teachers and how their learning patterns influenced me in my learning process. Then on to the pleasurable task of remarking on how I met Mary Heiny Sensei.

When I first started to train in Aikido, none outside of my dojo family had ever heard of such a thing. "Why do you spend so much of your time falling down?" friends would ask. How do we describe what Aikido practice is to those unaquainted with the art? Most of us have experienced the pleasure... and frustration of trying to define it to someone unfamiliar. I thought to reminisce about how I attempt to describe Aikido while traveling on airplanes.

Chris Moses has been a student and instructor with Two Cranes for several years. He has graciously shared his learning process of preparing for his Nidan demonstration. And both Anna Minard and Stephen Snell have practiced Aikido for over four years. When they enter the dojo, the place lights up with their shining spirits. They discuss what Aikido theaches them how they find practice useful in their daily lives.
   
Early this spring, The Stanford Center on Adolescent Research interviewed Joey Permutter and me for a research project emphasizing ethics and excellence in practice. The discussion focused on who inspired us to practice Aikido and how significant a gifted teacher can be in one's life. It feels appropriate to share with you pieces of this discussion. The questions they asked us are useful for anyone practicing Aikido to consider.

For some people, the teachings of Aikido address survival in the deepest way. Depression is an irritation for many of us, but it can be a life threatening menace. Below is one student's reflection on the power of Aikido practice to keep the demons of suicidal ideation at bay.

On Friday nights, advanced students gather to train. I remember witnessing the development of a "by invitation only" class when I trained with Ikeda Sensei in Boulder, Colorado high school gym in 1980. The air crackled. Senior students give a lot of their time to the development of a dojo. I find it useful for them to have a 'class of their own.' Practice is a personal and precious act. I feel great appreciation for the people who make up this aikido community; for their willingness to attempt to be mindful in training-in life. 'Waking up' is what we need to do to preserve this lovely planet. It's an honorable effort.

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Reflecting on Practice
by Kimberly Richardson

   One of Osensei's basic teachings focuses on the value of 'waking up'. The first anniversary of 911 is two months away. How has this event impacted us? Though I face my own skepticisms about the fragile state of our world, what with our crazy consuming habits and the senseless way we treat each other, in post September 11, I find myself more willing to acknowledge our interconnectedness and honor how we must learn to resolve our differences skillfully if we are to survive/thrive. Reading O'Sensei's words and watching him on film, I notice how he seamlessly he shifts the energy of a conflict. He creates peace before the problem has a chance to get out of hand. I would like to be able to do that.

    Since September I have noticed subtle shifts in the dojo. Students bring more equanimity and loving-kindness to their training, and although beginning students did drift away last fall in that dark time, those who have established practices, practiced more. Unexpectedly, I have observed parents bringing their children to the dojo in record numbers to begin Aikido. "Enough fighting already," they have said. "Our children need to feel safe in the world and to learn the value of getting along." One father requested."please help my daughter solve problems in a peaceful manner,"

   Perhaps these changes would have happened without the tragedy of 9/11. But this event has persuaded me to take a deep look at how much power lies in recognizing a conflict when it is a seedling. In its infancy a mere stance can avert the conflict, before it becomes overwhelming. On the mat, we practice meeting a shomen attack as soon as our partner raises her arm to strike, rather than waiting until it accelerates in a downward swing towards our head . That's a start. Then there is the skill of attuning our sensory awareness to the energy of an attack - before it manifests physically. But if you go one step further, there is the part of looking at the attacker as though we are of one mind, not separate. But this involves being 'awake' and aware of the seedling we face.

   So I try to 'wake up'. This sounds simple enough, the act of directing attention to what's happening in the moment. When alert, I can smell the scent of lilies on the shomen during class and feel the sweat beads gliding down my cheek. There is an aliveness that occurs between myself and my partner as I reach for her wrist and guide her gently to the floor. I am awake in the here and now. But then there's the next moment. I fear to ask how many classes I have attended and not really been there at all, moving habitually through each technique while planning a dinner menu. It happens so fast. One minute I am in the flow of it all and the next minute I am thinking about my grocery list -continents away from my center and from my partner.

   'Just come back' is the antidote. It's a simple thing, it just takes remembering. A basic tenet in sitting practice, it's the same teaching in Aikido. When awake, I recognize myself and my partner as precious beings. And when awake I can see a problem in its seed stage and picture a solution. This is our unique capacity as human beings that of seeing the conflict as it arises. We have the ability to calm our internal aggression-the part in us that wants to fight. We can do this because we understand the suffering that unconscious actions cause. Regardless of how much the fighter in us might want to do damage, in seeing this part of ourselves and our opponents with an open heart, we are actively practicing non-violence. Perhaps this is an appropriate solution to the questions 9/11 raises. Mary Heiny Sensei once said in seminar " When I have difficulty getting along with my partner, I try to remember that we are all suffering, sentient beings, and we are all doing the best we can." She asks us to find compassion both for ourselves and our partners. Wake up."

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On Teachers
by Kimberly Richardson

   I can't remember my dad ever talking about his teachers. Learning for him was about getting his feet wet - jumping into the experience and seeing what would happen. To him decision-making was an art - it defined his life. His approach seemed relatively simple: in the beginning three out of ten decisions will be the right ones. With experience, possibly seven out of ten will be accurate. It was like a batting average: keep the first numbers high and success will be yours.

   My mother saw learning differently. She had a teacher for every interest she pursued. I liked her painting teacher the most. He would fill the room with his deep belly laugh and glide his brush through the air, ranting about creativity. He really didn't teach technique. Rather he coaxed and cajoled her to get her heart and spirit on the canvas.

   Growing up, I don't remember much about my teachers. I attended ten schools before I escaped from high school, Teachers were mostly a blur. Most noteworthy were the teachers I tried to avoid. Sister Mary Elizabeth required me to write with my right hand. I was left-handed. My fifth grade teacher dealt with errant behavior by making us stand on our heads in the corner. (That seemed tortuous to me, all that blood pooling in my head.) Finally in college I met teachers who inspired me. Mr. Poetry looked like Omar Schariff and read Byron and Blake out loud to us, as if his life depended upon it. I knew early on that poetry writing was not my gift, but I would flounder in my ode-making if it meant that I could sit near this level of inspiration.

   Following college I traveled to Boulder, Colorado to study contemplative movement. The revered Buddhist teacher Chogyam Trunpa Rinpoche lived there. It wasn't a matter of liking or disliking him. The questions he posed in his evening talks asked us to consider why we were here- not just in the room, but what were we doing on this planet. And had we ever bothered to look at who we thought we were? Wake up, wake up was the mantra of the day, every day and he said so with his vibrating presence. I was stunned by his clarity and found myself sitting on a cushion determined to research the questions he posed. Little did I know that questions would simply lead to more questions. The answers remained beyond my reach.

   Six months into this question jousting experience I saw Aikido for the first time. Until Aikido, I figured that, like my dad, I was destined to figure life out on my own. With Aikido came inspiring teachers, and the most valuable life skills instruction of my life. When I met Mary Heiny Sensei I didn't know I would be training with her 25 years later. Now she comes to Two Cranes and teaches the adults, teens and children. She tells the story of the moment that O'Sensei glanced her way and changed her life forever. Likewise for me, when I began training, whatever Mary was conveying, I wanted to know more about that. In class she would emphasize that "each of us is the center of the universe." I had no idea what that meant, but to this day I try and shape that into meaning. I was grateful to be inspired by a teacher and a teaching.

   Perhaps having a great teacher has taught me how to be a devoted student. And this taught me how to position myself so that I am able to learn from other profound teachers. In addition to learning from Mary Heiny, I am indebted to the guidance that Saotome Sensei, and Hiroshi Ikeda Sensei, Tom Read and Anno Sensei have offered me. Their teaching has encouraged me to see that 'teachers' are everywhere. This is O'sensei's teaching. He invited his students to see 'all of it' as our primary teacher. "The universe is our greatest teacher, our greatest friend. Look at the way a stream wends its way through a mountain valley, smoothly transforming itself as it flows over and around the rocks..."

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Flying
by Kimberly Richardson

    Each time I step on an airplane several things are predictable. Overcoming my fear of flying is the first unavoidable hurdle. As I walk down that fnal ramp, I will remind myself how long it would have taken me to go the same distance in a car. Once on the plane I will have to get my overstuffed luggage in the overhead bin, before grabbing a pillow and settling into my seat. Then I'll waste no time locating the emergency exits and say a few prayers requesting safety for all.

     Another predictable ritual of flying involves addressing the person sitting in the seat next to me. It has always seemed a polite, and in the event of an emergency, wise exercise to exchange greetings. Occasionally this conversation extends to the question. " What do you do?" This answer varies according to my mood. Often I have referred to myself as a psychotherapist. This job description has its problems, though. Sometimes without missing a beat my seatmate will take off on a story about her bemoaned sister -in -law's turbulent marriage to her brother and..... what do I think? Over the years I have developed skills to avoid this scenario. Now when the plane lifts off the ground and we hit the 10,000 mark I reach for my headphones.

     A more useful reference I use is that of 'educator'. For some reason this heading doesn't often encourage curiosity. It does however, offer me a graceful way to end the conversation. When I 'm feeling up for a dialogue, I'll answer the question by saying that I am an Aikido teacher. Generally this response is met by 'what is Aikido?' and I very carefully explain it is an art of studying one's sense of balance and ability to respond appropriately to the circumstances faced in daily life. Hmmm. But defining Aikido as a defensive martial art is bound to come up, then the response is inevitable... "ohhhh, I better not mess with you." "No, it's actually not what you think. Aikido is a spiritual practice. We study conflict resolution from a physical, emotional and energetic place. The core teachings help people learn to move from their center and ground their stance." Sometimes the discussion ends there, returning me to the realization that I am 30,000 feet above the ground.(Ah, another opportunity to ground and center.)

     But I can't help feel the impact of how much my profession, as far as the public eye is concerned, gets defined by Hollywood images of the martial arts. I have nothing against most martial art movies, but what goes on at the dojo involves many people whose concerns do not pertain to learning speedy kicks and punches. Some people have found their way to Aikido because they want to move more fluidly in their life. Others say they wish to reduce their fear of being alive, period. A recent new student described the act of learning to fall down and get up again as a terrific metaphor for living life skillfully, particularly in times of trauma.

As I look to the future, I sense the coming of a broader recognition of Aikido practice as a way to increase our emotional and physical agility.We study a lethal martial art yes, but we also learn to open our hearts, create an internal sanctuary, and extend energy through our bodies as we connect to heaven and earth. Then perhaps when I admit my professional dedication on the airplane, those sitting next to me won't shift their bodies to the other side of their seat... or ask me to arm wrestle.

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Two Cranes Aikido Sandan Promotions March 2002

Joey Perlmutter and Daniel McAbee

Sandan Board:

Mary Heiny Sensei
Michael Freidl Sensei- Aikido of Ashland
Joanne Veneziano Sensei-Emerald city Aikido
George Ledyard Sensei-Aikido Eastside
Anne Yamane Sensei
David Hurley Sensei
Kimberly Richardson Sensei-Two Cranes Aikido.

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Why Aikido is Useful
Anna Minard - purple belt student at TCA

    As I reflect on the three years I've been training, the feelings Aikido evokes in me are what stand our most in my mind. I remember the very first class I took- how I wasn't as good at what I was doing as the others around me. And for the first time I felt like there was no reason to feel bad about that at all. Since the beginning I have felt entirely unjudged by the people surrounding me here. It is amazing that the environment can be so loving. As a teenager, I rarely feel accepted unconditionally in the way I am at my dojo. The atmosphere of the dojo is like a physical embrace-when I walk in I instantly feel more focused, and welcomed even by the air around me.

     Aikido has brought such good energy in my life, such a balance. For me, it is calming because it is a purely positive space. The dojo and the mindset I fall into when entering it are so comforting. There is something untouchably graceful and beautiful about Aikido. It is something unexplainable and indescribable. There is a quality beyond words that draws me to Aikido and keeps me coming back.

     It is the way Aikido makes me feel that makes it useful to me. It is healthy. It is the exercise my parents are always bothering me to get. It is a way for me to feel safe in the world, like I can physically take care of myself. I have a sense that I don't have to worry about being hurt, because if someone grabs my arm, or because I've practiced kicks and punches, but because my brain knows how to be calm and collect itself. I can always keep breathing in and out. That's what my Sensei always tells me. "Remember to breathe, Anna. Are you breathing?"

     My dad used to tell me that the way you can best take care of yourself is to look like you can - to give the impression that you are not to be messed with. And Aikido gives me the backbone, the ground to stand on, to do that. I am not to be messed with. Physically, emotionally, it's really the same principle, the same idea. Just know I can. Just focus myself. Just keep breathing, in and breathing out.

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I Never Feel Suicidal While Sitting in Seiza
anonymous

    It was never my intention to earn a black belt in Aikido. I trained because it made me feel good, relaxed me, helped me sleep at night and eased my terrible depression. Even more dramatically, I never felt suicidal when I was sitting in seiza in the dojo. So even when I didn't feel like training, I did. I sometimes thought of Aikido like taking medicine, essential for health, though not necessarily tasty, nor always enjoyable

.     After a few years I experienced more positive benefits from training: my posture was better. I felt more coordinated and graceful. A friend even told me I moved more like a cat! Now when I had nightmares of murder or torture, I was not helpless. Instead I dreamt that I could use Aikido to rescue myself and others. I also made new friends in the dojo and enjoyed coming for the social aspect even on days when I didn't feel like working out.

     Naturally my relationship with Aikido continues to evolve. Thankfully, I don't have many nightmares anymore and I sleep fairly well even when I don't train intensively. Now I enjoy the challenges of Aikido, of iriminage, of finding the spirals. I look for more comfortable ways to fall and roll. I figure out a "new" way to do nikkyo. Although I neither imagined nor desired that I would ever earn a black belt during my first few years of my training, it is a major priority to me now-both the rank and the demonstration. I'm not just training for relaxation any more Toto.

     Lately I train for the exam so I can give an interesting, maybe even inspiring demonstration. Ideally I would be graceful, swift, composed and technically proficient. But I consider my test to be a demonstration of who I am and what I have achieved in Aikido and I haven't achieved perfection. It reassures me to focus on the fact that I can only do my best- nothing more is required. I do not have to wield the sword like a fierce samurai warrior. Instead I will try to ground, blend and disarm my attackers as gently as possible.

     In addition my Shodan exam symbolically closes a very trying period of my life and recognizes a beginning. The process of testing ratifies my increased confidence in myself and bolsters my sense of self-efficacy. I trust that my training will continue to provide a foundation for me to assume new challenges and responsibilities.

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On Aikido Practice
Stephen Snell, 10 year old green belt practitioner

    I practice Aikido because I have fun and I can use up my energy without hurting anybody. Aikido is also fun because I get to meet lots of people and train with them. Sometimes I get to fly across the room when I go to an adult class. That is another reason I like Aikido. You get to roll and it helps you just get moving through the day. Around when I started Aikido, I started being able to do things like handstands and cartwheels. It built up my physical and mental strength. I learned to be balanced and grounded while doing things like front kicks and sidekicks.

     In Aikido I learned to take ukemi. Ukemi is like taking the fall. You learn to deal with people that want to hurt you without hurting them. That is another thing I like about Aikido, you don't get hurt and you don't hurt your opponent or uke. I have a lot of fun working with bo and bokken. The definition of bo is a stick that goes about to right below your nose and above your chin. The definition of bokken is a wooden sword. There is another kind of stick called a jo it goes to the bottom of your armpit.

     I have to say, I need to improve my rolls. Helmut Sensei always says to make a circle with your arms. That 's what I have trouble on. My circle always bends. I don't know why but my favorite techniques are always the complicated ones. I like things like ushiro ryotedori kokyunage and morotedori kokyunage.
     My green belt test is five days before Christmas. I think it is a good Christmas present. I've been looking forward to it since last summer. Evan and I are working a lot on bo ikkyo. Bo ikkyo is a bo kata. A kata is a set of movements used in a special order. These are the things I have learned and liked while doing Aikido

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Nidan Treatise
Chris Moses, TCA Instructor

    In looking back on my preparation for Nidan, I recall a parable given to me by Minoru Kurita Sensei during the first seminar I attended with him. He was discussing the many true forms of martial arts, meditation and religion as separate paths leading to the top of the same mountain. He was encouraging us not to be judgmental in our dealing with other arts and disciplines. He explained that some paths follow similar routes while others intentionally choose quite different directions to the top. Some paths may even cross or join other paths for a while. The specifics of the trail are not however as important as the fact that given enough time all of the paths lead to the same peak. He encouraged us to train hard so that one day we would all be able to enjoy the same glorious view. It didn't occur to me at the time that in a few years I would be leaving my path and looking for a new one to continue.

     For each test that I have taken, I have always tried to have a theme. For my Nikyu I wanted to be very martial , for Ikkyu I wanted to do everything very smoothly and for Shodan I wanted to look like I was happy. There have been so many significant lessons in the preparation for Nidan that it has been very hard to come up with a single theme. Being grounded but mobile, initiating the connection with uke, rearward extension and verticality are just a few of the different lessons that come to mind. I decided that I needed a higher order theme, one which could be built of these lessons but not at the expense of any of them. My theme is to have total control of the space during the test. I remember being very impressed with how Taryn Sass seemed to fill up the space of the mat. For a period of time she owned the space. She managed to do so without arrogance, but with clarity. She simply moved as if everything about that moment in time belonged to her. There was no room for conflict, because her authority over that piece of space-time was clear. It was wonderful to watch and to be a part of.

     The preparation process for Nidan has been longer and more painful than I expected, yet I feel that I have learned more in the last five months than the last two years of my training. The opportunity for such intense training with senior students and instructors is not something I have had access to previously. Many details that are hard to see in a class setting are much easier to isolate when given undivided attention. It has been enormously helpful just to be able to clarify the lexicon of techniques and make sure my vocabulary is consistent with our school. To be able to step outside of class and find out on the most basic level what is expected of "Shomenuchi Kokyunage," for example has been invaluable. The preparation process has also taught me more about my particular weaknesses than almost any other event in my training.

     What are my challenges? Where do I start? Tenchi has been a strong theme in my training lately. I have been trying to visualize myself as a fuse, uniting the earth with the heavens and enabling an energetic current. I think that in trying to find a way to move safely with my bad knee, I had lightened up my connection to the earth. A real challenge for me has been learning how to get grounded and stay quick and mobile. The suggestion of feeling the earth supporting me as opposed to planting down was nothing short of revolutionary. My images of grounding have always been with my ki flowing down, sinking deep of "dropping roots". When grounding in this manner I feel anchored or tethered to the ground, stuck instead of supported and empowered by it. This new way of grounding also supports the feeling of tenchi that I am nurturing, with the powerful earth energy running through me heavenward.

     Another challenge has been to find a headspace that embodies fire and decisiveness without moving into one which opens up hurtful or destructive actions or intentions. My previous training involved many techniques that if not taken properly by uke would result in his or her injury. Because of this we were seldom stopped during a technique. Many techniques worked because there was an understanding that we were performing for much more destructive methods. Kotegaeshi, for example, was understood as a technique for breaking the wrist and then dislocating the shoulder. Re-learning many of these techniques such that they are less likely to do damage to a resisting uke, has been frustrating and fascinating. The concept that one could perform a technique in such a way that an attacker can't hurt themselves is amazing to me. I think for most of us it's a long way off, but at least it's a goal I can begin working towards. Finding the mindset that penetrates through uke, without disregarding the need to move in nurturing authority, has been one of the most difficult tasks in my Aikido training. It is coming into focus through practice, but I find it very scary due to its proximity to the mindset of "I will defeat you regardless of the consequences to your wellbeing."

     In my sword style there is the understanding that at the end of every kata, the opponent is dead. Although this is rather severe, to ignore this is to not give due respect to the reality of the art. I find it interesting that the sword kata of the three schools I have been most involved in demonstrate the guiding paradigm(as a understand it) of that school. In Shinto Ryu all kata end with the death of uchitachi. Nearly all of Seikikai's kata end with the removal of uchitachi's ability to attack (usually by cutting off the right arm but not killing uchitachi.) At Two Cranes, our kumitachi typically end in what could be a potentially lethal move instead suppressing uke's ability to strike without injury to either party. Finding that place where I refuse to admit the possibility of defeat, simultaneous with the refusal to harm my attacker, is one of the main goals of my training now. I feel that I am getting closer to this, but that it will be something that I work on for quite a while.

     I decided to go through the process of demonstrating for Nidan while watching Helmut Floss's last test. As someone who was being trusted with teaching classes and helping prepare others for their tests, I felt that I should go through the process myself. I also felt that Helmut Floss's test was a true gift to the dojo. Along those lines I am very grateful for the way I was welcomed into TCA and felt that demonstrating would be a way to show my appreciation. Returning to Kurita Sensei's analogy of the mountain, I am very glad to have stumbled onto this path, and although sometimes it feels as if the top is unreachable, I am happy to be walking on it with this group of people.

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Friday night practice
by Kimberly Richardson

   "Doing good work feels good. Few things in life are as enjoyable as when we concentrate on a difficult task, using all our skills knowing what has to be done. And, contrary to popular opinion, these highly enjoyable moments, -flow experiences- occur more often on the job that in leisure time. In flow we feel totally involved, lost in a seemingly effortless performance. Paradoxically we feel 100% alive when we are so committed to the task at hand that we lose track of time, even of our own existence."

    Although the above quote refers to the heightened level of experience that can occur on the job, I will take the liberty to suggest that same type of "flow experience" occurs regularly on the mat. A Friday night Aikido class can bring down the house. From the moment we line up to bow in, there's an awareness of the potential energy surrounding us. As we train, we don't talk much, rather we move collectively through the space, grabbing and striking one another, and falling away as the forces are redirected...or not. With ukes traveling through the air to the floor in every direction, training can look like a snowstorm or a kaleidoscope. Observers often comment on the beauty and intensity of the movement.

   Friday night class has been a ten-year ritual for me. When I began teaching on this night at Seattle School of Aikido, students of all levels of experience were invited to attend, knowing that it would be a rigorous training opportunity. When I moved to Two Cranes dojo I elected to dedicate this training time to more experienced students. I felt it useful to offer a time and place where senior students could concentrate specifically on refining their skills. Continual focus, stamina development, martial intent and energy awareness are primary concerns in this class.

   I rarely know what I am going to do when I lead Friday class. Stepping through the door at the week's end, I direct my attention towards the Shomen and rely on the inspiration that comes. Over the years my sense of faith in the power of this ritual has grown; I see how one technique serves to open a pathway to the next. As a student of Tom Read I have observed him shape a class as a series of studies. He would weave a web connecting all technical applications and spiritual teachings. I am just beginning to understand how that works.

   I have ongoing appreciation for students who carve out this time to train. The alchemy that occurs in the training stimulates my curiosity about the spirals I imagine in my head. Sometimes in the middle of the night the whiff of a 'line' shows up. Often I can't grab it that night, but I can shape it in class the next day. The experience says ' pay attention to your dreams.' I once asked Terry Dobson Sensei where his inspiration came from. He casually stated that his best stuff came in his sleep. He would go to the dojo the next day, grab a student and " pursue his dreams or throw his uke's ass ragged, " depending.

   Perhaps the sweetness of Friday night training motivates me to link the connection between mat, life and imagination. Sometimes the exhileration I feel at the end of class carries over into the following day. Grocery store lines aren't so bad when I can quietly move my wrists in circles through space, working the lines I saw the night before. As Mr. Csikszenthihalyi points out, those highly enjoyable flow experiences we feel when we are totally involved in effortless performance happens sometimes in training. I am as well inspired to see where it shows up in daily life.

"The body is capable of becoming a permeable channel for the circulation of the subtle and fine energies of spiritual consciousness that are ever-present and interpenetrate the self and surroundings." Alex Gray

How Excellence & Ethics are Transmitted Interpersonally
Interview with Stanford Center on Adolescence
Stanford University

    One evening in April, I participated in a research project about doing good work and creating excellence. The discussion focused on Aikido and creativity. When did you begin? Why do you do it? What do you think is useful about it? How do you continue to maintain a passion for your art?
Below are notes taken from this exchange.

What is Aikido for you today? I keep this teaching close to my heart. O'Sensei said that the purpose of Aikido is to remind us that we are always in "a state of grace."

What is the purpose of Aikido? The purpose of Aikido is to create the spirit of loving protection for all things in creation. O'Sensei had a great appreciation for nature. He wanted people to behave as though they all belonged to one family and recognized that quality of connection with each other.

How does your Aikido practice relate to your job? I am a psychotherapist and an Aikido teacher. I have been impassioned by the art and philosophy of these disciplines for the past the twenty-five years. I am motivated to consider how these paths can help me and the people who I work with to live in a sane and skillful manner with compassionate awareness.

How would you define skillful action in Aikido practice? To me skillful, means demonstrating the ability to be present, to understand, and maintain our integrity as we compassionately respond to our needs as well as those of others. A thoughtful handshake says so much about a person; a bow says so much about a practitioner. In the context of therapy practice and that of martial arts, 'skillful' presumes the ability to express ourselves from a place of complete authenticity. The more skillful we are, the more capable we are in responding creatively and spontaneously in all types of interactions -to touch what is possible for ourselves and others.

What are basic life skills? Aikido practice encourages students to learn how to get along. These teaching include: How to defend ourselves, how to cooperate, how to excel, how to develop coordination to respond spontaneously to events as they arisebefore us. How we resolve an argument with a spouse, roll when falling off a bicycle or turn to avoid a punch coming at our face says much about our ability to be awake and aware.

What is your favorite teaching of O'sensei? "Masakatsu agatsu." True victory is self-victory.

How would describe teaching Aikido to children? In our work with the children and teens at Two Cranes we aim to teach what we consider to be basic life skills. We want each child to receive the message that at the core of her being she has a basic capacity for goodness. We want them to feel that this sense of core goodness is accessible to them anytime, anywhere. If they know that they are the center of the universe, they can achieve their dreams, regardless of color, creed, size or age.

Other skills we like to teach children:

* How to live in their bodies. We help children to know what they feel by encouraging them to pay attention to their emotional and intuitive world, and to appreciate their hunches.

* "Self defense" - the art of sensing the state of things energetically before they materialize. Kids do this naturally. We invite them to notice their excitement and their discomfort and to mark these sensations as signs that their action is required to create safety for all involved. Children are awake to this "hunch" state. Their imaginations are rich and their sensory awareness is acute. We do everything we can here at the dojo to encourage the development of these internal skills as well as training them how to move out of the way of oncoming force or danger.

*The art of cooperation- how working it out with friends and adversaries can be as satisfying as competing against them.

*Good manners- these are useful in more situations than you ever thought possible.

* The value of friendship.

* The power of practice - The understanding and expertise that comes with passionately practicing something over and over again. When children commit themselves heart and spirit to a practice that teaches basic life skills, they will thrive whether it is Aikido, the piano, soccer, or meditation.

* The value of play.

* How to see nature as our primary teacher.

*How to work with stress, anxiety and aggression in self & other.

* How to strive to attain mastery in what they aspire to do.