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The arrival of Takeno Sensei and Nakagawa Sensei marked the beginning of a three-day seminar over the Easter weekend, with four-and-a-half hours of intensive training required each day. Shifting between high excitement and fear, I found myself leaning more towards the latter. This was not helped by having read Yoshinkan aikidoka Robert Twigger's best-selling book Angry White Pyjamas, with its gruesomely detailed description of the hajime sessions served to the Tokyo Riot Police and other Senshusei (instructors' course) students at Yoshinkan headquarters in Tokyo. Hajime is intensive endurance and strength training, where single techniques are performed over and over again, at increasing speed, for entire classes, and finished with enough exercise to make your hair stand on end. It's no wonder that hajime sessions are also called ‘suicides', and are the least favourite thing on an aikidoka's list of least favourite things to do.
So, in preparation for the seminar, I decided to approach it like you do your first ever dive-roll: close your eyes, try to shut your mind off from all the possible painful consequences, and just dive into it.
Day one
The dojo has certainly come alive today, with most attendees arriving much earlier than the specified time of 10.30am, sharp. There were whispers that it felt very much like Christmas. Finally, Takeno Sensei arrived, along with Nakagawa. I was half expecting the aikido version of Bruce Lee to walk through the dojo door, but instead entered a gracious man with a warm smile and a peaceful aura, looking not a day older than a man in his mid-50s. I was later amazed to find out that Takeno Sensei is in fact in his 60s.
Taiso, the warm-up routine, had never been counted with such enthusiasm and vigour. The shouts of ich, ni, san, chi (one, two, three, four in Japanese) echoed around the dojo, and edged to the left side of my brain some days later, when I found myself screaming the counts in Japanese at home, before sheepishly realising that my neighbours might be feeling the need to find a new abode.
We started class with refining and drilling the basics, starting with kamae, meaning stance or posture (an exact, literal translation of the kanji, or Japanese alphabet, is ‘base'). This was very much the hot topic of the day.
I never knew just being in the correct kamae could cause my calves such grief, but as a consolation, I also discovered muscles I never knew I had. I duly noted that some Tigerbalm ointment might be a sensible investment in preparation for the next two days.
In addition to the killer kamae practice, we did lots of shihonage, the four-directional throw techniques that underpin much of aikido. True to what I had read, Takeno Sensei moved with grace and precision on the tatami (mats), while performing each of the techniques spectacularly with Nakagawa Sensei as his uke (the attacker, or ‘receiver' of the technique). I had a ‘light-bulb moment' while watching the two senseis work: it dawned on me that although Takeno's techniques were very powerful, he certainly did not use force, but rather precision and correct form.
When taking me through the correct steps of one of the Shihonage techniques, Takeno showed me that by staying in kamae, one does not need to use a lot of "forced power" to execute a more devastating throw. He explained that, "Kamae is a crucial part of aikido" and that "by being in kamae, one is firmly and strongly balanced on the ground, thus able to deliver a more powerful execution without force." I took his teaching on board, and immediately noticed that, true to form, the throw I delivered to my partner was much more effective, with very little power required.
Day one ended after some six hours of solid training under our belts. Obviously I was still alive, just with various extra bruises on my shins, elbows, neck and shoulder. But it was a small price to pay in exchange for no hajime, really.
Day two
We welcomed the second day of training in similar fashion to the first, with a spirited taiso and counting in Japanese. The dojo's unmistakable smell of wood and tatami had by then been infused with an interesting aroma of old sweat and various muscle-rubs and liniments. We were now well and truly into the seminar.
The day was filled with lots of intensive practice with the jo (short wooden staff), bokken (wooden sword) and wooden tanto (knife). Nakagawa Sensei was the star of the show, having patiently demonstrated and re-demonstrated the jo kata techniques to each of our eager groups. Nakagawa worked with the jo like a ballet-dancer, powerful and graceful at the same time. We watched her every move, then attempted to repeat her techniques. Our highly dedicated but poorly performed attempts earned us all a few smiles from the senseis, including our own teacher, Sensei Peter Koussoulis, 4th Dan. During the session, Sensei Koussoulis explained that, in order for ki (chi) power to flow, "the weapon, be it a bokken, a tanto or a jo, should feel like an extension of one's own arm, and that the tip of the weapon should feel like one's own fingertip".
Sensei Koussoulis is a full-time student and instructor of Yoshinkan aikido, and is a direct student of both Takeno Kancho and Nakagawa Sensei. After having spent several years travelling, and studying and instructing at the Yamanashi Yoshinkan Aikido dojo in Japan, Sensei Koussoulis returned to Australia to open the Melbourne Aikido Dojo in Brunswick. In the world of industrialised martial arts where teaching can often be diluted, Sensei Koussoulis has gained a reputation for his unique teaching style and ability to maintain the authenticity and spirit of Yoshinkan aikido as it has been passed on to him.
So as my sensei looked on, Sensei Takeno next showed us some interesting self-defence techniques, starting with the manipulation of the pressure points in the elbow and the neck. As a result, cries of pain from aikidokas being ‘pressure-pointed' by their playful classmates could be heard throughout the remainder of days two and three.
Day two's session finished only after five hours of intense training, but with no major injuries or any aikidoka going AWOL. I recall pinching myself at one point to make sure that I was still physically with the class, when the pain of staying in the correct kamae and exhaustion kicked in - my wobbly, shaking legs were not reminder enough. With the day's training completed, though, I realised that, within reason, one's physical limitations are only set by the very limitation of one's own mind. Along with an extra serving of bruises-on-bruises, I had gained many more valuable technique refinements and a sense of satisfaction and achievement, knowing that I and my fellow students had all given it our best shot. Staggering home, I was grateful for the lack of a hajime session today, and so were my numb and unsteady legs.
Day three
The third day of training was welcomed with amazing vigour and commitment, despite some of my classmates looking a little worse for wear. However tired, there was no question we all wanted to be there, and most arrived at the dojo much earlier than anticipated.
The highlight of this day for me was being manhandled by both Senseis Takeno and Nakagawa on the rare occasions when they were showing my partner and I the new techniques. However gentle they were, the pain was certainly not for the faint-hearted. While demonstrating a shihonage on one of our classmates, Takeno Sensei used only his index finger, but still sent our not-so-small classmate flying the length of a few mats, landing with a pained look in his face. Later in the change rooms, aikidokas exchanged their war stories of being man-handled by Takeno himself, and how painful it was. Yet deep down, we could not have been more proud to have felt the power of a true master, and knew our bruises and limps would be treated like battle medals for days to come.
One of our senior classmates, ‘Q', did us very proud on this day with his spectacular show of leaping over seven crouched aikidokas. This was an extended exercise version of the forward rolls. The whole group lined up and one-by-one we went flying over two crouched classmates, then three, then four, until it got too difficult for most.
We filled our third day with more intensive training of the techniques, which started with the seiza position (a traditional Japanese sitting posture, kneeling with the back straight and the buttocks on the heels). Sitting in a seiza position for prolonged periods as a newcomer can cause numbness and that awful pins-and-needles feeling in the feet, calves and thighs. I've even seen people fall over when trying to stand up after sitting in seiza for too long. The techniques involving the seiza positions are very popular, as it was explained that back in traditional Japan, seiza is still the most formal way to sit, and it is considered good business etiquette. Thus, when unexpected arguments or altercations occur, it's not unlikely that it would be while in the seiza position.
The day wrapped up with a Q-and-A session, in which we practised the techniques learnt with a partner at our own pace, and could raise any questions we had on their execution.
After the seminar, we shared a modest lunch with Sensei Takeno, Sensei Nakagawa and our teacher, Sensei Koussoulis. I felt a sense of relief knowing that my body would get a reprieve, however, I also felt sad knowing that our three-day learning experience with two of the world's most dynamic aikido instructors had come to an end.
Having only just farewelled our Japanese visitors, I'm already very much looking forward to the next time I get the honour of training with them.
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