The One Question You Must Ask Before Acting

🌀 Why "where you move from" matters more than the destination.

The Art of Zen

It is 6am in the dojo.

The only movement comes from the tendrils of incense fumes, curling through the air while we meditate in a profound stillness and silence that crystallizes the moment. We all kneel in Seiza; Sensei is in front of us, facing the kamidana, a miniature Shinto shrine. I see only his back, a silent silhouette against the dim morning light.

Every day, I wake from the men's changing room where I sleep, and clean the tatami before our practice begins. I'll clean again after today's sessions and each one that follows. My gi, already damp with sweat from cleaning the floor, it barely dried from the previous day’s practice that stretched until 10 pm. My heart is pumping, I finally got over the sore muscles of the first weeks of intense training, the routine is weaving itself into my bones. When I asked if one ever gets used to this intense rhythm, I was told,

No, but you will eventually get used to not getting used.

At one end of the line, students adorned in the Hakama, the traditional wide-legged pleated trousers worn by advanced practitioners. On the other side, we are in plain white. I am in the middle, yearning for the day I too can wear the signs of experience. For that, I train with every fiber of my heart, soul, and body.

The ritual begins. We all bow to the altar, Sensei claps twice, turns around to face us, and we bow to each other again. Another clap from Sensei follows. The ritual is stern, methodic, and precise, each movement steeped in tradition, ushering us into the solemnity that the practice demands.

Though we engage with physical movements, ultimately,
it is the soul we are grooming.

Aikido, "the way of harmony with Qi," is more than just a martial art; it is a profound philosophy of life, aiming to resolve conflict without harm and with deep respect for the opponent. Today's class theme is "Where are you moving from?"

I loved Aikido and practiced it for over a decade; it cradled my first awakening. Until a severe shoulder injury shifted my attention to yoga. I drank the lore of Japanese martial arts, rich with Samurai stories embodying teachings of Zen, providing examples to anchor the lessons in our core.