“It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.”  Ralph Waldo Emerson was not thinking about aikido when he wrote those famous words, but he could have been. My own experience learning this extraordinary martial art certainly resonates with this sentiment.

 

I’ve been involved with martial arts much of my life, starting with kenpo karate, then traditional Chinese kung fu, then shotokan karate, a year of Filipino Kali, and self-study smatterings of other arts such as kenjutsu and iaido. I first came to aikido thinking it would make a fine addition to my martial toolbag. However it quickly became clear that taking up this art was not so much a flower to be picked, but a mountain to be climbed. In other words, aikido is a journey, a way of life, and a commitment to a lifetime of learning that would only stop when my very breathing stopped. The journey is the destination.

 

I knew from its reputation that aikido would be difficult to learn, and it has been. But I unintentionally made it even harder than it needed to be by approaching it too seriously. After all, this was Bushidō, the Way of the Warrior, and what could be more serious than that? A heart attack, maybe? Funny I should mention that….

 

About a year-and-a-half into training I suffered not a heart attack, but close enough with a Congestive Heart Failure. It seems I was born with misformed cardiac muscles, which I hadn’t even been aware of. Although I managed to survive, it certainly looked like my life would be inextricably altered, and that life would not include training in a dojo ever again.

 

It was at that point when I realized that the Universe was laughing at me, at the way I approached life, and the way I approached aikido. And the only recourse would be to laugh right along with it. Surprising my doctors and myself as well, I managed to bounce back, returning to the dojo after mere months. Yes, it took a good year to build back up to my previous performance level, but here I was, training again! But way, way less serious, though just as hard-working and dedicated.

 

And that’s when the aiki-miracle happened. I started learning techniques more easily. I was less stressed out when difficulties arose, or I felt certain moves were giving me exceptional trouble. After all, I had the rest of my life to work things out, so what’s the hurry? And just as important, training was becoming more of fun, and less of tedious drilling.

 

Here on the cusp of testing for black belt, I am keenly aware of something my Sensei often repeats, “Up to shodan, you’re not learning Aikido; you’re learning how to learn Aikido.” So here I am, at the young age of 65, taking my first step in learning this fascinating art, and in a way to be honest, life itself.