the weaker sex

Entertaining as it may be, this film clip from the 1930’s actually demonstrates beautifully the fundamental principles of the martial arts. O’Sensei synthesized elements of ju-jitsu, judo and traditional swordsmanship, and incorporated his spiritual outlook and practices into what he called the art of aikido.

Ms. May Whitley has style and grace -- balance, timing and proper distance, she uses her lowered center of gravity, she works with whatever attack comes her way -- all the while holding her purse and keeping her hair in place. I love her matter-of-fact approach. She is not full of ego or grand gestures, but has a kind of quiet and natural composure which can be “dis-arming” in and of itself. She also demonstrates a refreshing economy and simplicity of movement.

As a senior woman on the aikido mat I often have to find creative ways to adapt myself to my male training partners who sometimes assume that they are entitled to boss me around, for any number of reasons, which you can probably well-imagine even in these terribly enlightened times in which men and women are supposed to be living!

Usually I choose to let my actions speak louder than words -- the iron-fist-in-the-velvet-glove kind of approach, meaning that I focus, soften and clarify my technique, leaving no room for superfluous comments. Aikido is really an art where women may excel and the feminine, receptive, flexible and intuitive parts of our natures serve us well – if we allow them expression and trust in their power.

Make no mistake, proper aikido training will make you “strong”, but it is not external, muscular force which confers its power. Timing, distance, calmness, expanded awareness, softness on the outside with reduced internal tension all allow access to the expression of contained inner energy – these are the qualities which set it apart from common forms of physical training and exercize and which also make it an art.

Proper aikido training will also I believe strengthen in each of us the aspect we are lacking in our masculine/feminine balance. Soft strength, power without force, subtlety of timing, expanded awareness – these are qualities I value and why women are particularly valuable as aikidoists, when we begin to be able to express the powerful qualities of “the weaker sex.”

This one is for Aleksandra, of course not because she belongs to the weaker sex, but because I promised to share this video with her almost a year ago. Aleks happens to be the most enthusiastic aikido student I have ever had the pleasure to know. She is not only energetic, she is truly passionate about learning and extremely open and receptive. Her infectious enthusiasm always brings a breath of fresh air to the dojo.

alchemy

1. a form of chemistry and speculative philosophy . . . concerned principally with discovering methods for transmuting baser metals into gold and with finding . . . an elixir of life.

2. any magical power or process of transmuting a common substance, usually of little value, into a substance of great value.

Somehow my imagination has been captured by the magic of the precious metals – silver and gold, silver and gold…they seem to be everywhere! I even woke in the night hearing in my mind the repeating round known to every Girl Scout: ‘make new friends, but keep the old – one is silver and the other gold.’ Over and over, silver and gold . . . what does it mean?

Autumn is always a bittersweet time of the year for me, and now especially so -- a foretaste of endings and promise of new beginnings to come -- eventually. I’m enjoying the last days of lingering light, fluttering golden leaves in Central Park and the final touches of warmth here in New York – and, to my astonishment, I’ve somehow fallen in love with the City again after months of wishing to be elsewhere.

Such an unusually challenging year has passed since my last entry “called back to basics” and I’ve been recently yearning to share and write again, particularly as the past month has been so full of important experiences -- aikido seminars and Alexander Technique immersions, and of course, horse riding. Much is shifting in my concept of riding, my awareness and in my own body mechanics -- the synergy between all my passionate pursuits feels luxurious right now. As always, the passage through difficulty has transported me to the present, where, in contrast, my current circumstances seem especially rich.

This year, I’ve also experienced the shadow side of power, in politics and manipulation. And as long as we are human beings living on earth the shadow will be contained in all our experiences, all of our so-called elevated endeavors and enlightened groups. Silver – could it represent the shadow side, the silver of reflected moonlight contrasted with the true and direct golden light of the sun? I have usually chosen to ignore the shadow side of life, in others, and in myself.

Now I have begun to see the power and beauty of embracing both aspects, shadow and light, silver and gold. One is silver and the other – gold. How could it be otherwise? They are most fully appreciated in relation to each other. They ebb and flow, the proportion of one to the other shifting and changing. Acknowledgement of the shadow, and non-resistance, begin the process of transmutation.

A photographer friend pointed out that colors seem so much more vivid on an overcast day. The gilded artwork depicting O’Sensei was radiant and the autumn leaves outside the window equally so on the cool and gray weekend we spent with Patricia Hendricks at her recent seminar at ASNJ. Pat is a real treasure – powerful yet soft, her teaching is infused with warmth, compassion and humility. She fully demonstrates martial application while incorporating larger philosophical concepts using her mastery of the Japanese language.

called back to basics

Above is a photo of my home office showing the place where I (used to) sit each morning, catching up on emails, sipping coffee, watching the sunrise over lower Manhattan. . . If I had been sitting there yesterday morning around 9:00 am, I am not certain I would be writing this now.

My experiences at the Centered Riding International Educational Symposium in Brattleboro, Vermont this past weekend confirmed my feeling that it is time to expand the structure of this cyber “space” I have so enjoyed inhabiting. Although the events of yesterday put a slight kink in my plans, stay tuned for two additional spaces with links here (to follow). One will present information and capture reflections specific to the Alexander Technique and another separate space will do the same for Aikido.

In the meantime, below are links to pertinent entries on this blog regarding the Alexander Technique (you can also view the blog by category – choose one from the sidebar, or you can search using the box in the upper left-hand corner). The Alexander Technique bibliography provided at the Symposium, as well as the visual essay I used to illustrate the concept of "use of self" are available HERE . See Website Links in the sidebar for some Alexander Technique-related websites of interest.

This morning, I awoke before dawn and drank my coffee sitting on the floor of my study, reflecting on the scene before me. The debris had not been touched and I was trying to glean something from the juxtaposition of the books (formerly from the top three wall-to-wall shelves above my desk which had come tumbling down). I saw it as a kind of casting of the Runes. What message might I decipher by meditating on how the titles had arranged themselves? Their subjects differed, but they were all somehow related: Albinus on Anatomy, Light on Yoga, The Ease of Being, A Course in Miracles, Beelzebub’s Tales to his Grandson, Vibrational Medicine, The Practice of Freedom, to name only a few. It struck me that this could have been a close call -- or maybe it was a wake-up call.

The Symposium was so very rich with inspiration and information and supportive friends, new and old. I was extremely honored (and more than a bit intimidated) to be sharing the Alexander Technique portion, along with an amazing group of presenters on other bodywork modalities, consisting mainly of senior Centered Riding instructors – all incredibly knowledgeable and highly creative and seasoned teachers. I learned a lot and, in addition, for me it was a call back to basics – a call to get back on the mat and renew my Aikido training which has been interrupted by a stint of PT rehab for a shoulder injury; a call to continue to deepen my understanding of Centered Riding and an impetus to continue to grow in my teaching and expand my relationships with my Alexander colleagues in the wider world.

Entries with an Alexander Technique perspective:

a moment, with Marj

fitness without stress

mind like water

weaving in the threads

axis mundi

imprisoned splendour

swing time

better living through imagery

buoyancy

greater than the sum

first things first

poise

harmony – includes video of aikido women instructors (myself included!)

gypsy in my soul

Around Halloween especially, I fondly remember my Grandma Pauline, who always took such great joy in preparing us for this particular holiday, with its pagan roots. She was certainly a colorful character in my life, in stark contrast to my other grandparents who will have a dedicated entry with a photo which should be titled "American Gothic." When I shared this poem with my mother several years ago, she commented, "well, you know, it's all true!"

Last night, as I traveled home on the subway after working late, the car filled with an amazing assortment of creatively costumed New Yorkers of varying ages, I recalled my poem of remembrance and the photo of her shown above, inherited on a recent trip to the Midwest.

Pauline

my father’s mother loved to dress us up as gypsies

traveled with the carnival, hair always permed and red, toenails too
first husband alcoholic, second husband flew hot air balloons
but was killed in a car accident

wore Tabu and costume jewelry with rhinestones and plastic feathers
sewed her own clothes -- I remember that chartreuse polyester blouse
a zipper up the front, a gold metallic fish dangling from the tab

watched religiously The Edge of Night and As the World Turns
barmaid by profession, smoked and drank beer
had a series of Pekinese dogs, each one bad with children
and always named “Ty-Gee”

lived in a trailer surrounded by her garden
philodendrons in donkey-with-cart planters
were trained to grow around the entire inside
of that place

gold plaster elephants up on hind legs trunks curled
matte finish with tiny shiny drops all over them
lived on either side of her couch
a framed print torn from a calendar:
dogs around a table playing poker

she often wore a two-piece bathing suit

once a year we put on the red tiered skirts
with pink and turquoise rickrack trim
draped in scarves, hair flowing free
we became her gypsy band

husky voice, laughed a lot
she lived her gypsy life

and she told me I had rosebud lips
as she painted them bright and deep

like the wind

The wind of heaven is that which blows between a horse's ears
~ Arabian Proverb ~

“How did you ride last night? Someone will invariably ask me this on a Wednesday, since many of my friends know how much I cherish my Tuesday evening rides at Lord Stirling Stable. Sometimes I laugh and report that I drew “Garfield” the pony and he really got the best of me – say no more! But sometimes I answer with “I rode like the wind”, only half-joking, because when you first learn to canter and you join with the horse’s motion taking you ‘round and ‘round the big outdoor ring in the crisp autumn air – that is really how it feels. And never more so than last night, riding my favorite paint horse, “Amigo.” A cold front moving through with a brisk wind gusting from the north roused the horses out of their usual subdued states and we had an especially lively class, yet without incident.

It was a ride where things “came together” and everything simply felt good. I seemed to have chosen just the proper clothes, the right number of layers to keep me cozy, yet still able to enjoy the freshness and the exhilaration of the wind. My stirrups seemed the perfect length, my hip joints flexible, my pelvis relaxed, my center low and my attention easily re-centering me when necessary. Time and space opened up and I found I could play with noticing how soft my joints could become on the down of the posting trot or could remind myself to free my neck, soften my eyes, breathe – and smile! No worries intruded and I found myself to be very present. No fear welled up, as sometimes happens -- old scares triggered by a fast trot or sudden movement of the horse. Last night I felt calm and fearless.

When you sit astride a 1,000 pound creature and sense the power and grace contained within, you know you are interacting with a “force of nature” -- an expression sometimes used to describe a gifted athlete or a person of great charisma. You begin to realize the wisdom in cooperative leadership -- blending with, going with, joining with or becoming as one and then exploring how to assert influence and give direction without disturbing that connection.

The dust swirled in miniature tornadoes and stray fallen leaves danced around cheerfully. My mood seemed to feed on the energy and I savored the experience throughout the hour, hoping to prolong the special time, sensing the ephemeral quality. On the walk to the car before the drive back into Manhattan, I usually take a look around and appreciate the peace of Lord Stirling Park. This week my gaze wandered somewhat wistfully out toward the lights in the distant ring where others had taken our place and were now riding . . . like the wind.

“Air is not one of the traditional five Chinese classical elements. Nevertheless, the ancient Chinese concept of Qi or chi is believed to be close to that of air. Qi . . . also ch'i or ki (in Japanese romanization), is a fundamental concept of traditional Chinese culture. Qi is believed to be part of every living thing that exists, as a kind of 'life force' or ‘spiritual energy’. It is frequently translated as ‘energy flow’, or literally as ‘air’ or ‘breath’. (For example, ‘tiānqì’, literally ‘sky breath’, is the ordinary Chinese word for ‘weather’).” – From Wikipedia

Searching for a photo to capture my feelings, I found an image from the website of a family living in the San Francisco Bay Area -- here one of their teenage daughters lives my dream of galloping down an open beach (photo cropping and enhancement mine).

mind like water

For many years the background image on my Alexander Technique business card has been a beautiful “water drop” photo, suggesting the expansion of awareness and energy which takes place in a person who applies the principles of the technique in their activities. By taking a split-second to notice the possibility of ease where the head rests atop the spine, at the moment just before a movement is initiated, the quality of the movement can be substantially improved.

“Mind like water” is also a metaphor used in the martial arts to describe an ideal state of quiet readiness. It is similar to the Chinese concept of Wu Wei, which was discussed here under “The Power of Connection,” and speaks about appropriate levels of effort and proper timing as well. David Allen uses it in his next-generation time management method which has achieved a near-cult-like following, “Getting Things Done” (aka GTD). His system holds the promise that it is possible to both stay relaxed and accomplish meaningful things with minimal effort. GTD provides tools and concepts which, when practically applied, help keep our minds empty of extraneous detail so we can function from that calm, still place. From the book:

“Imagine throwing a pebble into a still pond. How does the water respond? The answer is, totally appropriately to the force and mass of the input; then it returns to calm. It doesn’t overreact or underreact. . . . Anything that causes you to overreact or underreact can control you. . . .Most people either give more or less attention to things than they deserve, simply because they don’t operate with a ‘mind like water.’”

I have long known that Alexander’s discovery brings us the possibility of choice – how will we respond to a stimulus? According to habit? Or will we remember to take a moment and allow the possibility of a different response to emerge? Will we react out of habit and will that cause us to have an over-reaction, an under-reaction or make an appropriate response? Learning the Alexander Technique is a process of finding the moments of potential which occur immediately before a change in activity and developing the dexterity to take a split-second and notice ease before making our response.

Those of you who are involved with horses will recognize that learning to make the appropriate response at the proper moment with just the right level of energy forms the basis of the interaction we have with them which is called “riding.” In the best moments of my aikido training, I find that calm place where I can blend smoothly with my attacker. Many years of re-training my initial reaction to an oncoming aggressive movement allows me to choose a calm, appropriate and effective response. Time spent on the aikido mat reprogramming reactions carries over into my daily life. Having a practical foundation in the Alexander Technique has certainly influenced my martial arts training and I am hoping, and beginning to find, that creating space for an appropriate response is teaching me a lot about horses.

In the above photo, taken with my iPhone last autumn from our kayak on the lake at Mohonk Mountain House, the still water responds with subtle rhythmic movements and a lovely reflection of the stunning surrounding foliage.

look into their eyes

The platform and the cars of the subway were eerily empty this morning – quite a contrast to yesterday’s crushing commute when New Yorkers exhibited not-their-best behavior, pushing into the packed train and tossing rude comments back and forth. This morning, before I left the house, we exchanged a few words: “you know it’s 9/11, yes, I’m running late, the subway has been a nightmare, not looking forward to that, call you later" etc. My preoccupations kept me from kissing him goodbye.

As soon as I hit the street I felt it. The past few years I’ve tried to pretend that this day could be just like any other day again. But it never is and the tears welled up, as they invariably do, and I headed down into the subway, wondering what I would find. Wouldn’t you know that I found I missed them, all of those New Yorkers. Where was everyone today? Were they afraid to ride the train, right at this time, the time the first plane hit? Were they home watching the ceremonies at Ground Zero on TV? Were they grieving loved ones lost?

As I took stock of the other riders I wondered if we should be nervous. Was I imagining the mood to be somber? Remember, after 9/11, when you could sit on the train and cry, and know you wouldn’t be alone in that -- not have to feel awkward or know why you were crying. We were all crying in our own way. And during that time we actually looked at each other. You felt you could speak to people and you knew you could ask for help if you needed it. You knew you would give help, if asked. The world had changed and New Yorkers started looking into each others eyes.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something special today?” my co-worker asked this morning, her eyes reddening as she turned to her calculations and spreadsheets. I said I might meet a friend for coffee – someone I had watched the TV with at work as the second plane hit that day. We had left the office together and bought flip-flops for the long walk home. She talked about her best friend from high school whose brother died in the Towers, seven years ago. He would have children by now she mused -- he had been engaged to be married. We all know someone. Each year we hear the stories, old and new.

Tonight at home when I stand quietly at a south-facing window and look downtown, I’ll see the gap in the skyline, filled this week with the beautiful and symbolic tower of light. I’ll remember the heavy smoke and the long-lingering odor of that dark time. And I suspect, like many New Yorkers, the day will have been marked yet again by a very personal mourning and reflection and possibly a remembrance of the softening and opening of our hearts, and our eyes.

The photo above was taken to promote a recital my daughter sang in June, 2002. We were not trying to capture the flag which appears on the subway car, but somehow it seemed appropriate – a full year had not yet passed since 9/11 and a certain special patriotism was still very much apparent here in New York.

Hear her album "Maya's Idyll" here.