I attended my first Aikido seminar last night. It is a three-day seminar at the Midwest Aikido Center, but I only went to the first evening. But even a single evening is a good start.
I was not even sure I was going to go. I'd been hearing about the seminar at our dojo for some weeks now. Our regular instructor is planning to go on Sunday (I think), and our chief instructor, who lives in Chicago, is attending all three days. I'd never been to a seminar before, so I was up in the air about going. At my rank, it's not required of me to go, although at my next rank, I'll be required to attend two seminars per year. So I thought, and thought. Seminars are a big deal. A famous person in the Aikido world always teaches. My attendance would demonstrate my conviction and dedication. On the other hand, it's about 100 miles of driving round trip. I've heard that there are parties after each class, and there's a lot of drinking that goes on, which I don't need when I have to drive 50 miles home, or worse, car pooling home with someone who has been drinking. I drink and enjoy it, but I'll be the first to admit I'm a lightweight in that department, and when I drink, it's usually at home so that I know there's not going to be any driving involved. Keeping it safe, you know? So I talked to Lu, who has been wonderfully supportive of my Aikido. She knows it's my only outlet that's truly mine, and the only place I have to go where I'm away from children and family. It's my only "me" time. She also realizes it's fantastically good for my health. So with all those considerations worked out, I mailed my release form and $45 check for Friday only to the MAC on Tuesday. Again, luck was with me.
Everyone from our dojo who has gone south to Chicago talks about the terrible traffic, and if you want to get to the MAC by 6:30, one needs to leave our home dojo by 3:00 at the latest in order to arrive on time. Our school's principal has been taking Fridays off to drive to Peoria, Illinois to care for her father, who, it seems, it nearing the end of his life. I took the opportunity to leave school ten minutes early. First, I had to drive home to drop off my little dear ones, the elder of the two was driving me crazy, as preteens are inclined to do. By the time I was ready to leave, it was nearly 3:30, but I was not worried.
I drove south on highway 31, a single-lane B road, versus I-94 which turns into a toll road once it gets into Illinois. "The I" - as they say in Wisconsin - has a higher speed limit, but taking it adds almost ten miles to my trip each way. In Gurnee, Illinois I switched to U.S. 41, which is two lanes in each direction, averages a 50 mph speed limit, but has stop lights. I'd stay on that until I got to the Edens Expressway, which goes south through Chicago. I was making good time.
By the time I got to the Edens it was only 4:30. I only had about 15 miles remaining, so I knew I'd get to the MAC with plenty of time to spare. I flipped the radio to a news station to get some traffic, and I heard that traffic on the Edens was unusually heavy; one hour, fifteen minutes from about where I was to downtown. Ouch. With light traffic, the trip would be about 30 minutes. It wasn't long before the traffic began to crawl
Since I'm familiar with the area, I decided to get off the Edens in Skokie, and take Lincoln Avenue through Chicago. It was a great call, because traffic was reasonably light, and Lincoln runs southeast through the city, and at its closest is only two blocks from the dojo. For all the moaning and groaning I'd heard from people who've driven to the MAC on a Friday, I made the trip with little to complain about. The MAC is situated in a typical city neighborhood, so there are plenty of walk-up apartment buildings up and down every street. I can see how parking would normally be a problem, but It wasn't for me. I found plenty of parking once I got there.
I got there at 5:30, a full hour before the seminar began. I took off my shoes at the door, put them on the self, and looked around for someone who might help me. I saw a woman I remembered seeing when I observed the children's class last April. She remembered me, too. I told her who I was and why I was there, and she replied that my check and registration form had only arrived that morning. Whew. Another stroke of luck. She went into the back room and brought it out front to show me. Once we both confirmed that I was who I said I was, I asked about the changing room, the bathroom, and the water fountain. She also suggested that I just "hang out" in the small common room on the far side of the mat area. As a reference, I would say that the MAC is about four times the size of our dojo. Big. Their mats are also some sort of plastic-like material, as opposed to our canvas. It's much easier on the feet, and no mat burns from friction.
After some time, others started to arrive. There were lots, and lots, and lots of men showing up with hakemas - the black pleated pants that indicates one of the black belt ranks. I started to feel a bit overwhelmed, and even a bit intimidated. The night before I pulled out my only white belt. Since we'd be working with one of the big shots from Japan, we use the more traditional belt system, which is black belt with hakema, brown belt, then white belts for all ranks below. I'm one step below brown belt, but I had to dress like a beginner. I didn't mind, though. I didn't want anyone at the MAC expecting too much from me. I wasn't sure what to expect from myself.
Then I started seeing some people I knew. We occasionally have people from MAC come to our dojo to teach classes. I saw one guy named Steve, a black belt, who, in what I've learned is good Aikido tradition, walked in to the common room, and started unpacking a 12-pack of beer into the refrigerator. As he was doing this, I looked into the fridge as well, and saw that it was packed with beer with a few soft drinks thrown in for good measure. At least I had someone there who I could ask my questions and didn't have to worry about being overly formal. Speaking of, I took it upon myself to make sure I went overboard with my etiquette and formality. As they say, you can't ever bow too many times at a dojo. I made sure if nothing else, I would give my back muscles a good workout. I knew people would recognize me as not being from MAC, and would ask me where I was from. I wanted to represent our dojo well.
About 6:00 I made my way into the men's changing room and got dressed. It wasn't long before I was on the mat stretching out. I was surrounded by lots of men and women in hakemas, but some of the guys I saw dressing that I thought were black belts were wearing white belts just like me. That helped me relax a bit, so I did my stretching in earnest. It wasn't long before the mat started to get crowded. I would say there were at least 50 students on the mat. Then suddenly I saw our chief instructor walk in the door. Finally, there was someone I knew from my own dojo. I breathed a small sigh of relief. I walked over to him about the same time he saw me, I bowed (being formal), then he stuck out his hand. We shook. He said how great it was to see methere, and how important it was that I start attending seminars. He asked if I'd seen anyone else from our dojo, and I said no, but the traffic was bad, and people might show up late.
Soon the seminar began, and we lined up. We bowed in. Our teacher was from the main Aikido dojo in Japan. He is noted for being incredibly fast, intense, and strong. He had to be at least my age. I was wowed watching him move with his uke (attackers). Fortunately, and I was told it was because it was the first night, he was working at a level that I could almost keep up with, which was nice. There were a few drawbacks, though. One I had expected, and another I had not.
First, I'd attended a summer Aikido camp two years ago, and I was familiar with how these men work as teachers. They speak in Japanese, and their interpreters do their best to relate what the Sensei said. Same now as then, I had a very hard time understanding, or even hearing the translator. It seemed that no matter where I sat, the translator had her back to me. That was difficult enough. Then there was the actual Aikido itself. In our dojo, our instructors demonstrate one technique at a time with what is very typically two or four variations. We get used to this quickly, as the variations follow the same pattern: left and right, with both sides having a "step in" and a "step around" move. Both the "in" and "around" moves are mirror image, left and right. It's not that hard to catch on. Our teacher last night, however, demonstrated anywhere between six and eight variations every time he taught. It was a challenge to figure out what exactly it was that we were supposed to be practicing. Sometimes he would demonstrate a bunch, and then people would just pick one and go with it.
Fortunately, when the teaching began, our chief instructor sat right next to me - on purpose, I think. He and I started the seminar together, which helped me feel not so overwhelmed. That was great. I think that maybe he also sent a message to the other black belts on the mat, because soon after, when the teacher called everyone together, I noticed that one of the black belts came over and sat right next to me. That was a clear indication that he wanted to work with me next, since upper ranks choose their practice partners first.
When our teacher was done demonstrating, the black belt turned to me and said, "Onegaishimas," or, "let's practice." I returned the 'onegaishimas' and we began. He was a great guy. Right away he noticed that I was tense. "Relax," he said, "You're among friends." Nice to hear, but I was still nervous about being there. I relaxed as much as I could. The teacher clapped and called us together again, and another black belt sat next to me. I worked with him for a while. Then another black belt sat next to me. I started enjoying myself. I also noticed that the people wearing white belts kept practicing with each other. I was really happy to be working with the black belts, and they seemed pleased with me.
The last black belt I worked with was an American of Japanese descent. I heard others talk about him and saying something about "his" students, so I figured he had his own dojo somewhere. He and I did the final exercise together. I think I did well with him, too. He gave me a couple of quick bits of instruction that I put his suggestions into practice right away, and I think he was impressed by how quickly I improved. I was getting him off his knees quickly and with little effort, which is the whole point. He also said I was strong. I don't know about that, since I have a hard time appreciating my own strength or how much energy I'm putting into my techniques, so I guess I did well with him, too.
Soon class was over. We bowed out. The men sat in the common room while the teacher took a shower. When he was done with his shower, we changed. I started talking to the last black belt I was working with, and it turns out that he was a young guy from Brazil. That was quite the coincidence. He was in Chicago to get his MBA at the University of Chicago. The teacher and many of the students went out for Chinese after the class. I took my things, got in my car, and made the 50 mile trek home. Of course, when I pulled into the garage and tried to get out of the car, I couldn't believe how stiff I was, and today I am sore and tired, but I had completed my first seminar.
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