Budo
By Paul Rest
May 2007
Growing up in the Midwest in a family of Protestant ministers during the 1950’s, everything was about belief: I learned to believe in God, country and family. This Eisenhower time was a tidy world that contained little room for errant thinking. It was also, I soon realized, very limiting. About my junior year of high school I began a thirty plus year search for something I could not really define but thought of as “beyond believing.”
In undergraduate and graduate school, I tried immersing myself in the hyper intellectual world of learning-- knowledge for the sake of knowledge. I found this very stimulating and did indeed learn interesting and useful insights and tools, many of which I still use today. But I eventually realized that this was not what I wanted. I then joined a religious community in San Francisco that had as its core curriculum a fascinating combination of New Age thought from various disciplines. I read Alice Bailey’s meaty tomes, learned about the Tarot from Jason Lauderhand and how to study ancient texts from Samuel Lewis. After I left this group, I came in contact with Zen Buddhism and learned to sit zazen with the Abbot of the Zen Center in San Francisco, Richard Baker-roshi. I learned to love the quietness of sitting zazen, especially the idea of “no thing;” that is, of not having to hold on to a belief in order to meditate. It was so cool, so “zen.” But I also noticed that while in the religious community and when attending Buddhist services at the Zen Center’s Green Gulch farm in Marin County, there were still beliefs. Just like when I was growing up, each had tenets to hold or scriptures to follow. This smelled and tasted like the same pot of stew I had eaten growing up: not particularly bad but not what I wanted. I still wished and hoped I could find that something more, “beyond belief,” something that I could feel with my whole being.
When I began studying Aikido, because of the theological training I had had, I immediately recognized that there was a deeply religious foundation to the art. I approached this realization with great trepidation. I think I was afraid all the beautiful movements I saw on the mat were the results of just another set of beliefs. Most of what I was reading about O Sensei at that time went way over my head, except I did understand that he was an extraordinary martial artist who possessed unheard of skills. It didn’t help that the senior students in my classes, which were just about anyone who was there on the mat with me, were always talking about this or that amazing feat attributed to The Founder. I wondered, “Are these things I’m going to need to believe in to learn the art?”
My second month on the mat, Mary Heiny Sensei gave a workshop at (the now closed) Centerfield Aikido in Sebastopol, CA. I had little if any idea of whom she really was or what was going on. My mind drifted here and there as I looked at all the blue and brown belts, some of whom I had trained with but most of whom were strangers. Those with black belts and wearing hakama were beyond my wildest thoughts. They were from some Olympian height I could not imagine. Yet, half way through that chilly November Friday evening, I found myself where I never thought I would be. Mary Heiny Sensei had demonstrated an irimi nage with a koku throw. She did this with a directness and power that stunned me. Now it was my turn. And the person who bowed into me was not just any black belt; she was one of the women who had founded Centerfield Aikido. Well, what happened next was the answer to the question I had had for all these past years: I did one and then another awkward tries at the technique-- and I mean embarrassing awful awkward. Then, on my third try, something magical happened. I blended with the attack and turned and then extending my arms heavenward I felt something inside my whole being move. Like a spring snapping. It was powerful. A great rush of energy suddenly emanated from me. My attacker, who was also (and is) a well conditioned athlete, went down on the mat with enough power that she instinctively slapped with a loud “thud.” I was stunned. My wide open eyes met her wide open eyes. What had just happened? I realized in the next moment that I had moved beyond my questions and fallen head first into that “beyond belief” realm that I had been seeking.
We all gathered after the workshop at a nearby home for a party. I keep trying to tell Mary Heiny Sensei that her class was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to me. Words failed me but that didn’t keep me from stumbling forward. I’m sure she and those there thought I had had one two many beers. Maybe I was babbling on. I didn’t care. It had happened.
Similar moments followed over the years, each one affirming the vibrancy and aliveness of the path I was on. Whether I was with Strozzi-Heckler Sensei or other Senseis, or with my fellow students, there was no question that this is where I wanted to be and this is where my whole being felt at home.
So, in somewhat of a round about way, to explain my experience of what I came to understand as Budo and the idea of believing needs to include what happened to me with the before as well as the after in my life. I still probably don’t believe in Budo in the traditional way I was brought up that one should hold a belief. Maybe I have something akin to the Zen teaching of “no-thing” or in this case “no-belief.” But wondering about this is not something I spend a lot of time on. I do know that that night on the mat was the beginning of what I have come to understand as my direct experience of Budo. This has been the way that has been my guiding light and has kept me on this path when I have become frustrated, when I have had to deal with injuries and when my ideas about where I thought I should be haven’t lined up with where I was.
My discovery has led me to realize that Budo is something alive and nurturing. As I train and study in this wonderful art we have been given I have found my relationship with Budo is the ultimate training partner.
Paul Rest, 2nd dan, studies with Richard Strozzi-Heckler Sensei at Two Rock Aikido in Petaluma, CA. He also trains and teaches at Tenchi Aikido in Sebastopol, CA with Betsy Hill Sensei. He has written numerous articles about his experiences with Aikido and can be reached at poetry@sonic.net