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“The way of the Warrior has been misunderstood. It is not a means to kill and destroy others. Those who seek to compete and better one another are making a terrible mistake. To smash, injure, or destroy is the worst thing a human being can do. The real Way of a Warrior is to prevent such slaughter – it is the Art of Peace, the power of love.” –Morihei Ueshiba

On Sunday, October 28, 2018, I achieved my 1st kyu rank in ki aikido. While I felt proud of achieving this last rank before black belt training, I left the dojo looking no different than when I had arrived there. The entire dojo – Franklin Ki Aikido – celebrated together over chicken wings and beer, and then we were all ready to come back the following Tuesday for more training. Always more training.

Ki aikido is also known as ‘the art of peace.’ The weekend of my test, a man killed 11 people in a synagogue, and another man unsuccessfully attempted to kill 70 black parishioners in church, then killed 2 in a nearby grocery store. These acts stunned and shook me – as they did everyone I know – but heartbreakingly, they are no longer a surprise. Instead, they are reminders of a resurgence of ‘otherness’ that is front and center. I don’t know much about the two shooters beyond that they were middle-aged white men committing acts of hatred on people who didn’t look like them.

I also know a fundamental truth about them: there was an enemy within before there ever was an enemy outside. No one who truly and wholly loves oneself would be capable of such acts. We can debate whether these were individual, ‘crazy’ people, but my academic training in studying patterns in populations points to a larger, growing sickness of deep disconnection that is a breeding ground for suffering and hatred.

I prepared for my test for months. My sensei, Mort Melman, has traveled weekly for the past several years from New Jersey to Connecticut to continue our training. Ki aikido changed his life for the better, so he is committed to helping us. He explains that we are training to be more ‘natural’, to give up ‘our stuff,’ rather than to add. Our dojo provides us shelter from what increasingly feels like a storm; in that way, it is no different than those places of worship.

When people learn that I train in ki aikido, there is always an audible moment of surprise (“Oh, really?”) sometimes followed by a joke (“I’d better watch out for you”) and an occasional request for demonstration (“show me something you do”). They assume it is for self-defense.

I don’t say much about it in response. For one thing, explaining that I am training to be one with the universe feels like oversharing and frankly, pretty bogus. Second, there is the perennial debate over which martial art is “more effective,” with aikido usually not ranking high on the list. (Although, as my sensei would say, “it depends on what effect you want to have.”)

The effect I want to have has indeed shown up off the mat; there is no shortage of opportunity to see how my training has taken root. I am a citizen who is choosing to stay engaged in this world (and, not insignificantly, I drive nearly two hours each day in horrible traffic). I don’t know whether what I’ve learned would protect me against a gunman intent on killing me. Perhaps not. But I know my training has given me a wealth of options for how I move about in the world. I know it dissolves some of the conflict and hatred within myself before it manifests outside.

In the dojo, we are asked to reflect on why we train. And indeed, we are all – in a dojo or not – training for something. So, here, is why I train:

I train so I can cultivate a calm mind, even when under stress.

I train so I can experience failing and move through it without falling apart.

I train so I can laugh at myself.

I train so I can be tolerant of my shortcomings and the shortcomings of others.

I train so I can look at myself in the mirror and like what I see.

I train so I can understand that my intention is not always my impact.

I train so I don’t get stuck.

I train so I can be curious rather than accusatory.

I train so I can practice how to rely on others for help.

I train so I can help others.

I train so I can understand that I always bear responsibility in a relationship dynamic. Always.

I train so I can observe rather than react.

I train so I can learn new ways to move and make peace with my aging body.

I train so I can fall.

I train so I can get back up.

I train so I can befriend rather than unfriend.

I train so I can reach across divides that seem vast.

I train so that there is no ‘us’ and ‘them.’

And I train to heal the enemy from within before it creates more suffering.

Thank you to Mort Sensei and all those who have helped me train. Onegaishimasu.

Learn more about Ki Aikido in a short video on Vimeo

To contact Susan directly: susan.nappi@yale.edu

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