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Parts of this interview with Michael Sheahon Shihan,
seventh-degree black belt and chief instructor of Aikido
Hartford, were published on AikidoOnline.com (now called
AikidoSphere) and AikidoEast.com (U.S. Aikido Federation
newsletter). The interview is divided into three parts:
Technique and Practice, Training in Japan,
and Sheahon Sensei. His students
submitted the questions.
Technique and Practice
What do you believe is the most important basic principle for
aikido movement? I feel the integration of centering,
breathing and projection are fundamental to effective movement
in aikido, both for nage and uke. I say this because no matter
how precise the alignment of your hanmi to the line of attack,
the width of your stance or the maai (tactical distance) between
you and your partner, an application may be a complete failure
if you are not centered, your breathing is not focused and you
are not projecting power through fully extended arms.
Conversely, if you are well centered with good posture, you have
good control over your breathing and you project fully and all
of these events are integrated within focused movement, often
the power you generate will in itself throw a committed partner,
even if other things are not well executed.
Breathing may not generally be considered movement by many
people, and I seldom hear the term kokyû-ryoku, or breath power,
mentioned in seminars. But it is essential if for no other
reason than the fact that if you do not breathe, you soon will
have no movement at all. On a more practical level, if you do
not control your breathing, your movement will lack efficiency
and your mental equanimity will fail. Nobuyuki Watanabe Sensei
told me that when physical conditioning and control over
breathing reach a certain point, class can become one long
session in breathing meditation. I found that to be very true.
You have an interesting example for explaining the importance
of centering in aikido. From the center, power is
projected outward. The mechanism for projecting this power is
like a water-filled pressure tank with hoses attached, like a
fire truck. When water is forced under minimal pressure through
a fire hose that is stretched straight and directed at a target,
the water will pass easily through the hose and exit in a steady
stream. But when the internal pressure of the hose increases or
force is applied to the hose from outside, the hose will begin
to wander and flop around. This will cause flexing of the hose
and the more it is flexed, the greater the internal water
turbulence. The greater the turbulence, the weaker the stream of
water as it exits the hose. If sufficient force is applied so
that the hose is flexed back upon itself and crimped, the flow
of water stops all together. To control the hose and the flow of
water, a fireman must straighten the hose and direct the nozzle.
Human beings are the whole water hose mechanism rolled into one.
We breathe energy in and compress it in our center where it is
distributed outward through the bones of our arms and legs. Like
the hose, the more we flex our arms, the weaker we become. In
this case, the role of the fireman is played by our muscles,
which keep the bones aligned so the applied force is directed
where intended.
Why do aikidoists practice striking with an open hand rather
than a closed fist, which seems more practical? Aikido
techniques make an important assumption: attacks are made with
weapons, even when the weapon is only a hand. The open-handed
strike emulates a swinging strike with a blade, stick or bottle
in hand. The closed fist punch emulates the thrust of a staff,
sword or spear. Regardless of the weapon, the primary concern
should be the angle and distance of the attack. The specifics of
the weapon should be studied, too, but because they are peculiar
to each weapon, they are not central to normal training. As for
punching with a closed fist, that is also part of aikido
practice and should not be neglected.
Regarding the practical application of aikido, where do you
see the benefits or disadvantages of waiting for an attack,
entering into an attack with irimi and striking with atemi?
You should never wait for an attack. In films of O Sensei you
never see him waiting. He always makes the aggressor respond to
his movement. There are three relationships between nage and
uke: one, uke moves first; two, uke and nage move
simultaneously; and three, nage moves first. Aikido promotes
harmony and peace, but it does not teach you to handicap
yourself out of the misguided belief that uke should be allowed
to initiate aggression. We can maneuver in ways that draw out
the aggressive intent and limit the options for its expression.
This does not mean that we have to attack first. It means that
if an attack is imminent, we need to draw it out so that it can
be safely neutralized. Waiting until an attack has begun,
severely limits our options for protecting ourselves and looks
out for the well being of the attacker.
How do you prevent your aikido practice from getting stale
over the years?
I have found aikido to be infinitely interesting and have never
had to fight staleness. Earlier in my training, I occasionally
had periods where I wondered if all the effort was worthwhile.
After deciding that it was and committing myself to learning as
much as I can during my lifetime, every day has brought new
excitement and insight.
What advice would you give your older students to help them
maintain ability for long-term aikido practice in their late
50s, 60s and 70s? The best way to maintain longevity in
aikido is to practice as hard as you can early in your career.
Speedily accumulate as much knowledge and skill as you can.
Train your body how to roll comfortably forwards and backwards
as quickly as possible. Then, as the years pile up, you will be
able to safely control younger and more exuberant partners. It
also helps to learn how to practice in an age-appropriate
manner. For those who begin aikido in their 50s or 60s, they
must know their limitations and not be frustrated or
discouraged. There is plenty to learn from aikido that has
nothing to do with flashy or athletic ukemi or dramatic
technique. The challenges faced by these people are often more
daunting than those of younger folks and produce greater
satisfaction when overcome.
What is the practical application of learning how to roll?
Learning to roll or fall pays off the first time you slip on
ice, fall off a galloping horse or find yourself flying through
the air after a car runs into your motorcycle. These are real
incidents experienced by students who came away with no broken
bones and only a few scrapes and bruises.
In terms of aikido training, the ability to take good ukemi is
necessary for a nage to practice strong, fast techniques. You
cannot throw someone hard when he cannot protect himself from
the floor or ground. You cannot complete a rapid iriminage
movement that could injure your partner’s neck if he cannot get
out of the way safely.
What is your advice for working through a slump? Dogged
perseverance.
Why does aikido training not include defense techniques
against kicks? Aikido does include defensive techniques
against kicks. They are the same as those used against hand
strikes. However, the ukemi for techniques that take out the
legs is dangerous. Practice against kicks is not common until
advanced levels when the uke can be assumed capable of absorbing
trickier falls.
What are your thoughts regarding physical conditioning and
aikido performance for beginners? Every beginner needs to
come to class as regularly as possible and get in as many
repetitions as possible. This will rapidly improve his or her
physical conditioning. Without basic conditioning, it is
difficult to practice well or to advance your skill level. If
someone is overweight relative to his strength, he should do
additional running or other cardiovascular exercises to bring
weight and strength into balance. If someone lacks adequate
strength, practicing as often as possible and as vigorously as
possible will result in an acceptable strength level over time.
Skill comes only with repetition. The more repetitions you can
do in class, the more chances you have to improve poor skills
and to re-enforce good ones.
Do you think for aikido to be an effective self-defense, you
need training in other martial arts, or can aikido stand
alone? In most cases, well executed aikido is sufficient.
In instances where my students have been assaulted, they have
always found aikido techniques to be more than adequate. Maybe
they tell me only about their successes and not their failures,
but it appears that aikido is quite effective.
However, self-defense is distinct from aikido. Aikido training
often assumes unspoken agreements between nage and uke about
appropriate behavior and the kinds of attacks that will be
employed. To protect yourself against a knowledgeable mugger on
the street requires a broader background. If you are serious
about defending yourself against any attack, you must research
many different types of fighting systems. You need to learn
their methods for using strikes, kicks and weapons; their
strategies; and their blind spots. This is not to say that you
cannot use aikido principles to do this, but you need to expand
your training beyond the normal class content.
How can someone train to be in the right state of mind for a
real-life confrontation? Most of us do not have to be
constantly prepared for a fight, whether physical or verbal.
That kind of effort is debillitating. A better approach is to
practice in class with sincerity. Treat uke's every attack
seriously and try to perfect the understanding of the attack and
how to counter it. Outside of class, we need to practice the
kind of abiding vigilance that we have while driving a car. If
our antennas are alert and our training is proper, we will
respond with the right state of mind when necessary.
What do you believe is the most important basic principle for
aikido thought? One of the more important goals in aikido
is simultaneously practicing mushin and zanshin. Mushin is
undifferentiated consciousness wherein the mind is totally
engaged in an activity without overly fixating on any one thing.
In this state, you react naturally and spontaneously to an
attack without discreet decisions. You fluidly blend with the
attacking movement and automatically respond with techniques
appropriate to the situation.
Zanshin is the abiding awareness that remains constantly alert
to our surroundings. Even within a confrontation, zanshin should
remain active, always alert to new circumstances that might
affect the confrontation. It is said that the price of freedom
is eternal vigilance.
Have you ever suffered serious injuries from aikido training?
If so, how did you adjust your training? Yes, I have hurt
myself a number of times. The most important lesson I learned
was that injuries must be given sufficient time to heal before
returning to regular practice. I severely stretched the medial
cruciate ligament in my right knee and was told not to stress it
for six weeks. Well, after two weeks on crutches and one week
using a knee wrap, I was feeling pretty good and decided to
start practicing again. This resulted in further damage to the
ligament and more time off. Being young and dumb, I kept trying
to force the issue until the ligament lost nearly all its
elasticity. I finally had to quit cold turkey for six months.
Altogether, I lost about two years of on-the-mat training. Now,
I encourage my students to be smart about their injuries, but
some of them seem to be as foolish as I was.
Training in Japan
What were you doing
before you went to Japan? I arrived in Japan in October
1971. Before that I was enrolled in the Master of Arts program
in East Asian studies at the University of Kansas where I
received my Bachelor of Arts in philosophy. My interest was
Japan, so in addition to required courses, I took three years of
Japanese language classes. By the end of these courses, I
realized that I was not a gifted linguist and that to become
fluent I had to spend some time in Japan.
In September 1969, my senior year in college, I joined the
university karate club which practiced a form of Okinawan karate
known as Shorei-kan Goju-ryu. While there, I studied our
system’s katas pretty hard and passed my first green belt test
(6th kyu) in October. During that time, I placed fairly high in
a couple of local tournaments. Two weeks after I received my
green belt, our club traveled to the second Gateway Open Karate
Tournament in St. Louis. To my surprise and the delight of my
instructor Max Mueller, I won the white and green belt kumite
competition.
However, since I was a novice in a large tournament competition,
I did not realize that the green belt champion automatically
gained a chance to win the grand championship trophy. This meant
the green belt champion had to fight the brown belt champion and
the winner of that match would fight the black belt champion. I
was so scared my belt kept shaking loose. By the time my match
with the brown belt champ began, I was numb, but I was also
incensed. As we were warming up, I heard the brown belt champ
talking to his buddies about how he was going to smash the black
belt champ, as though our match was a foregone conclusion, which
it should have been. I had no right to think I could win, but I
was mad and this seems to have really ignited my natural
quickness. In the end, I eliminated the brown belt after two
quick points.
Now, I had to face the black belt. He was one of the best young
fighters in the country and became the world champion in
kickboxing a few years later. Those as old as I am might
remember Bill Wallace. He was known as Superfoot, and it was his
side kick that beat me by a score of 1-0. I was actually
relieved that the floor was not littered with my body parts. But
as I learned later, Wallace had watched my earlier match and was
a little concerned about my quickness. So, not chancing that he
be scored upon by a novice, he played me pretty conservatively
and after winning the first point just kept me at bay as I
futilely tried to tie the score. Anyway, all of us Jayhawks
returned to campus pretty happy with our experience.
I continued to practice with the university club for the
remainder of the academic year. In 1970, I began studying Kempo
karate under Roger Carpenter in my hometown of Wichita, Kansas.
Roger was one of the most formidable heavyweight champions of
the 1960s and 1970s and was a member of the United States team
that won the first World Taekwando Championships in Korea in
1973. I learned much from him and loved the demanding classes.
He wanted to train champions, and if you could not stomach the
grueling workouts, he was happy to see you leave. I learned much
from him and will forever be grateful for all the attention he
showed me that summer and the next. I returned to Lawrence,
Kansas, for graduate school that September and soon received my
brown belt, more or less as a reward for having done so well in
St. Louis. However, being in graduate school, I had little time
to devote to tournament competition. It was after the following
summer that I left for Japan to teach English at a private high
school near Tokyo.
You went to Japan in 1971. Why did you go? I had several
reasons. First, I wanted to see the world. Second, I was seeking
a spiritual grounding and Buddhism seemed to offer a world view
that matched my personal life experiences. The third reason was
that I needed to be there if I was ever to gain a confident
grasp of the Japanese language. The fourth reason was the
opportunity to continue my study of karate in the land of its
origin.
You practiced karate in Japan, so why did you switch to
aikido? A friend from one of my intensive Japanese
language courses in the United States was living with a Japanese
family for a while. The eldest son was a student at Rikkyo
University and a member of the school’s aikido club. He invited
my friend and me to a demonstration his club was putting on
shortly after my arrival in 1971. I was impressed by what I saw
and expressed an interest in learning more about the art.
In the spring of 1972, I made the 90-minute trip to the Kuwamori
dojo in Sakuradai where I received my introduction to aikido
under Kuroiwa Yoshiro Sensei. Being tall and lanky and this
being my first class, I presented quite a spectacle when I took
a koshi-nage for the first time. The fall did not feel bad, but
judging from the expression on everyone's face, it must have
seemed like I was going to break apart on landing. Shortly
afterwards, Kuroiwa Sensei demonstrated some helpful points
about taking ukemi for my benefit, and the class was over. I
went back one more time but found the three-hour commute
required more of a commitment than I could make at the time.
Nevertheless, my interest was piqued.
When I moved to Tokyo in early 1972, I learned that the Aikikai
headquarters dojo was only a 10-minute bicycle ride from my
apartment. I visited the dojo and watched a couple of classes.
Although I was hooked, I continued with karate classes for a
couple more months. Finally, in September 1972, I could not
resist any longer and enrolled at the Aikikai.
What attracted me so much to aikido that I gave up karate was
the graceful power of the Aikikai shihan and their students. The
throws and pins were powerful but in a seemingly less brutal way
than karate. The ukemi was nothing like I had ever seen.
What are your memorable experiences while training at Hombu
Dojo (aikido world headquarters)? I was there for nearly
12 years altogether, so I have quite a few memorable
experiences. A few stand out because of their long-term effect
on my training. The first incident involved Arikawa Sadateru
Sensei. His was the first advanced class that I attended at
Hombu. Until then, I spent my time in the beginners' classes,
but having recently passed the yonkyu exam, I felt I should give
the classes upstairs a try. The one I chose was Arikawa Sensei's
Wednesday afternoon class. I do not remember whom I was
practicing with, but I remember having difficulty with nikyo.
When Sensei came by I asked him if he would show me how the
control should be applied. That was not a very smart thing for a
newbie to do. He very carefully and smoothly took my wrist,
positioned it perfectly and before I knew it, I was on the floor
holding what was surely now the useless clump of bones that used
to be my left wrist. Since I was already on the floor, I quickly
bowed out in seiza and backed away, so he could demonstrate on
someone else. After a few minutes of agony, I noticed that the
pain was quickly subsiding and that nothing was amiss after all.
From this experience I learned that while some instructors just
watch new people practice for months before even acknowledging
their presence, others give a little test to see who among the
uninitiated are willing to come back and learn. From that moment
on, I made a point of going to every class that I could and
never complained about pain.
Tell us about one of your instructors at Hombu, Yamaguchi
Sensei. Yamaguchi Sensei was an enigma to me. I looked at
his technique and wished I could be as fluid and seemingly
relaxed. Whereas Tohei Koichi Sensei exuded power and tossed his
ukes away like popcorn on a hot skillet, Yamaguchi Sensei seemed
to have sticky fingers. Once they made contact with someone,
they never relinquished control. Instead of being thrown, his
ukes seemed to fall all over themselves. After he pinned people,
he would give them an opening, but it would always lead into
another technique where they again found themselves pinned.
I was puzzled over his ability to do this for many years, and
although I have yet to approach his proficiency, I believe I
have finally figured out the mechanical source of his
stickiness. I may be mistaken, but it seems to lie in his
ability to rotate his hips while always moving his feet so
contact with his uke is never broken.
Another essential part of the equation was that the power
generated by the rotation of his hips was transmitted through
his arms, similar to how two beads suspended on strings from
either side of a stick drum strike the drum with considerable
force when the drum is rotated. Even though the beads and
strings have no power of their own, they are very efficient
transmitters of force when used properly. Yamaguchi Sensei was a
master of this approach, and it made his movement look
effortless. The real drive was generated from his hips and legs,
which were concealed beneath his hakama. His arms, which were
visible and caught our attention, were usually extended very
naturally and gave the appearance of fluid nonchalance.
Most of us saw the outward appearance of effortlessness and
tried to emulate it. In doing so, we mimicked the appearance of
softness but lacked drive and control. Yamaguchi Sensei was very
powerful. On the rare occasions when I got to do ukemi for him,
I always felt great power, no slack in musubi (binding,
continuous contact) and no chance to move anywhere other than
through the opening he offered, if any. Although I did not
particularly enjoy the way he taught me humility by loudly
demonstrating my faults to everyone in class, I greatly
appreciate him for having shown me another very attractive
technical approach to aikido.
What is your experience with Second Doshu Ueshiba Kisshomaru?
Regarding his technical influence, I used to wonder if I really
wanted my aikido to resemble his. The other teachers had
distinct styles that clearly demonstrated strength, fluidity,
speed, softness or strong ki. Doshu seemed very nondescript. I
used to ask the other shihan how they ranked Doshu in terms of
technical ability. Everyone replied in the same way, "Practice
with us, but be like Doshu."
Over time, I realized that as individuals within the Aikikai,
the shihan had the latitude to research particular aspects of
aikido and let that influence their overall style. Doshu, on the
other hand, as the head of the system, had to demonstrate the
essence of aikido stripped of idiosyncrasies. He strove to be
strong without looking aggressive, fluid without weakness, soft
but substantial and powerful of ki without attitude. Whereas
others could follow paths according to their interests, Doshu
had to reflect the art itself while sublimating personality. His
art was clarity in motion. Once I understood this, I developed
great respect for him.
Tell us about a memorable experience training under Seijuro
Masuda Sensei? One of them was the night he walked out
from under me while I was flat on my back and five feet in the
air. It was like being dropped upside down through the bottom of
an empty elevator. It was my introduction to kata-nage (shoulder
throws). Usually, koshi-nage techniques allow you to time the
fall and grab nage's keiko-gi; also, nage usually provides some
support as you land. This was the first time I experienced a
clear-fall drop with no support and no sign the fall was coming.
Another memorable moment came shortly after receiving shodan. It
was the first time Masuda Sensei ever used me to demonstrate a
technique in front of a class. He had always thrown me strongly,
but this time he did so faster and more powerfully than ever. He
threw me with shiho-nage into a breakfall, but because I was
slow to react, my forearm seemed to rotate twice at the elbow.
The problem was that even though I tried as quickly as I could
to get my body to follow in the direction of the throw, my feet
never left the ground. It must have been terrible to witness. I
sneaked off to the side and tried to hide from view. I realized
that even newly minted yudansha are expected to handle all types
of ukemi.
I should have expected something like that to happen, because
about a year earlier I was given a nonverbal warning by fellow
students to be constantly alert in Masuda Sensei's classes.
After one particular class was over, I asked him a question
about shiho-nage and as usual he began to demonstrate his
answer. Suddenly, I found myself flat on my back looking at the
ceiling. He had decided to throw in a foot sweep as he completed
the shiho-nage. Afterwards, some of his followers told me that
he always had a way of waking people up if he thought they were
getting complacent in their attitude towards ukemi. The good
thing, I am told, is that he only did it with people he liked.
Tell us about your journey to learn how to execute shiho-nage
at Hombu Dojo. Another meaningful moment happened while
doing katate-tori shiho-nage. Whereas I could bend my arms and
not suffer too much instability when applying ikkyo, it was
altogether different shiho-nage. Again, because my partners were
all shorter than I was, I always had to bend my arms and stoop
to get under their arms. This put me in a constant pretzel-like
bind. Finally, Watanabe Nobuyuki Sensei took pity on me. He
forced me to do shiho-nage while keeping my back straight and
bending at the knees and he often made me partner up with the
shortest person available. For someone who used to run the
middle distances in track, bending my legs that deep was not
something I did naturally. In addition to the excruciating
strain imposed on my thighs, I looked like a waddling duck. But
as he continued to challenge me in his classes, I found that the
strain in my thighs disappeared and I could even be somewhat
graceful. This discovery prompted another couple years of
converting newly found theory into useful practice. I found that
by developing the strength to keep my knees flexed and to squat
deeply when necessary, I increased the drive I developed with my
hips.
Because of my enthusiastic efforts to practice bending my knees
at every opportunity, I often did so when it was entirely
unnecessary. So, a couple of years later when we were practicing
shiho-nage in one of Yamaguchi Seigo Sensei's Monday evening
classes, he also took pity on me. He pointed out to everyone how
stupid I was to bend my knees so much. He then demonstrated how
you could pass under your partner's arm with good posture and
good arm extension without having to unnaturally bend your
knees. What irritated me about this was that he was almost as
tall as I was, so I could not blame his ability to do this on
his being shorter than his partner. For what seemed the
remainder of the class, he made a point of coming over to tell
me how miserably I was doing. Apparently, I was pretty steamed,
because my partner, a very polite man with whom I had never
practiced, felt it necessary to excuse Sensei's remarks and
assure me that I was doing all right. The problem was I knew I
was not doing all right.
I now had a new dilemma to work out. Not too long afterwards, I
shared my problem with Masuda Seijuro Sensei. He promptly made
me feel even more stupid by showing me what was staring me right
in the face. Instead of raising my partner's arm only about as
high as his shoulder, all I had to do was make the same motion
as bringing a sword over head. Strangely, this works with
shorter people even if their arms are not long enough. I still
do not have to bend my knees nearly as deeply as before. To
integrate this new knowledge required couple of years.
Sheahon Sensei
How did you start
Aikido Hartford, and how has it changed? Aikido Hartford
came about a few months after my family and I returned to the
Hartford area in 1993. The owners of a local tang-soo-do school
in East Hartford wanted someone to teach aikido on open nights
and asked the U.S. Aikido Federation to suggest
someone. My name was mentioned, and the school called me. It was
a fortunate situation, because the facility was nice, and I did
not have to pay rent. In fact, the dojo operators paid me to
teach on a sliding scale that increased as our membership grew.
After awhile, we could not operate strictly as a program within
the tang-soo-do school, so we registered with the U. S. Aikido
Federation. We developed a solid core of members, and some
members continued paying monthly fees even though work and
family obligations prevented them from attending classes.
A few years after I arrived, the karate program began to suffer,
because the owners could not devote as much time to it as they
had. Membership dwindled and the school was sold. The new owner
allowed us to continue practicing, but financially it was
becoming harder for us to continue there.
Finally, in July 2002, we discovered space in a rundown factory
building that would cost us less to rent than we were paying the
new owner. Our prospective landlord promised to make significant
upgrades to the building, so we signed a lease. We made many
necessary renovations and officially began classes Oct. 1, 2002.
(Editor's note: Aikido Hartford moved from its dojo in
Glastonbury, Conn., to a new dojo in Vernon, Conn., in January
2012.)
How was your shodan test? I took my shodan test as part
of the first Aikido Gakko course for nikyu students and above.
The Aikido Gakko is an educational program established at Hombu
Dojo to maintain its status as a nonprofit educational
organization and exists separately from the regular aikido
classes. The course was taught by Watanabe Sensei who was
assisted by a couple of his sandan followers. By the end of the
course everyone new pretty well what to expect. The only
interesting occurrence was that one of the students chose one of
the assistants to be her uke. That was a tactical error she
quickly regretted. The assistant did not intentionally impede
her, but because of his considerably greater experience, she had
trouble moving him and was exhausted by the end of the exam.
Afterwards we were told it's better to choose an uke close to
your own level of experience when taking an exam. Fortunately,
she passed.
When did you become confident practicing aikido? Perhaps
it is a personality quirk, but I am never confident practicing
aikido. I am always concerned I will not be in the right
position to take safe ukemi, or I will be unable to practice
with my partner in a manner that will be mutually beneficial. I
always find something to worry about.
What is your preferred weapon and why? I like the jo
because it is more versatile than the bokken. The jo does not
have the obvious aim of killing and maiming that underlies most
other martial arts, especially those that use bladed weapons.
The jo encourages large, circular movement that has direct
application within our unarmed practice. Its length and that uke
can grab both ends allows you to do many aikido techniques with
it. Being rigid, it demands that you sharpen your understanding
of angles, distancing, center-line integrity and footwork to be
effective.
Have you used aikido in a real-life confrontation? I have
never been attacked since beginning aikido.