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[Editor's Note: In this contribution to the Beginner's Corner, Margo Ballou describes her experiences as a beginner, and the importance of maintaining a balanced attitude in the face of a succession of intense experiences -- not all of them pleasurable. Photos courtesy of the Brown University Aikido Club.] Developing Ukemi: Journal Excerpts from my First Six Weeks of Aikido By Margo Ballou,4th kyu, Brown University Aikido Dojo Day one I discovered that when I’m attacked, my instinctive response is not to back away, and I have to think to do the Aikido moves. There was this poor guy, and all he did was grab my wrist, and all I had to do was take a step backward. I couldn’t do it! Three times in a row he grabbed my wrist and I immediately moved forward, ready to get right up in his face and confront him. On the fourth try I managed to step back for the first time, but only through intense concentration, with the teacher standing right next to me and coaching me. Obviously, an attitude like this one is not overcome merely by learning tenshin movement. However, learning tenshin movement is a step in the right direction. Day two My Aikido teacher Carl Fasano has mischievous eyes and a great sense of humor. He pulled off two of us newbies to coach us on the somersaults. He shooed everybody else away from our corner, saying it was "royal territory." My elementary school gymnastics training has me instinctively holding my feet together; and as for somersaulting from a standing position, that floor’s a long way away and I’m chicken to just drop onto one arm and rely on its strength to support me. I have trouble getting used to the fact that my body works somewhat differently at 32 years old than it did when I was ten. Day three We practiced front rolls for so long (30 min.) that I got a splitting headache, then slowly realized I felt nauseous. Without standing on ceremony (Aikido is ritualistic) I grabbed my things and headed for fresh air. I felt like hell. It wasn’t until I spent a few minutes lying down that I was certain I wasn’t going to vomit. I’m going to try to make a habit of drinking ginger tea on Aikido days. I have always suffered from motion sickness. I still sometimes have to leave class due to nausea, but proper hydration and intense focus always help. Day four I worked with one guy I’d never seen before, who threw me completely off balance, pulled me clear out of my stance until I got used to him. ("Keep your stanc ," he said. Yeah, I’m working on it!) He had me slightly worried that he was going to hurt my arm! But I learned a lot from him too. He told me not to resist so hard. I wasn’t resisting; I was unconsciously gripping for balance. Toward the end we formed two groups, and one person at a time threw everyone in the group by turns. That was great, too much fun. I was amused by the play fighting among the senior students; they preferred to whack each other on the floor rather than do front rolls, grinning from ear to ear the whole time. Bob complimented me on my front rolls and asked if I’d studied before! Bob is very nice, but when I get tired I accidentally beat up on my body pretty hard. Finally, Bob & I paired up for the backstretch. I got the better deal. ("That’ll be ten bucks," he said.) Even after he showed me how to do it, I was too weak to lift him. He's taller than I am and considerably heftier even though he’s slim. I fell to one knee and watched in horror as he flipped over me, tumbled handily over someone in his way, a d landed on his feet smiling. Like I said, Bob is very nice! But he recruited one of the men to stretch his back! Ahem. A year later, one of the beginners dropped me from the back stretch. I did not land gracefully, but I tried to take my fall and neck injury with good social grace. Third week For one technique, my partner had been working with a big stiff guy for most of the evening, so the first thing he did was nearly tear my arm in two. I couldn’t even think to tap to indicate I’d had enough; I just whined "OW!" He pointed out that if I relaxed my arm more, it wouldn’t hurt so much; and he eased up on me. He taught me many fascinating particulars of this hold. If he was grabbing my wrist, I had to step sideways and pull his arm out straight, break his grip with my other hand, get his arm against my shoulder with my hand drawing his pinky finger in (his elbow facing straight up), pull his wrist to the outside, turn my body in (so his arm curved into a Z shape), and bow slightly (bringing him down to the floor). Very complicated! But I was doing it by the time we switched to the last technique. It seems as if everyone in my dojo has had the experience of a nikyo so intense that we’ve forgotten how to tap, just dropped to the mat and impotently tried to wriggle away like greased pigs. After that experience we usually remember to tap! End of first month One time Jay had me leaning all the way over backwards but didn’t apply enough pressure to throw me. I didn’t want to stay there all night, so I threw myself and got up to tell him to apply more pressure. He beat me to it: "Did you feel that or did you just fall?" (With sheepish grin) "I just fell." "Don’t do that!" So the next time he did that to me, I pushed back, which resulted in a very quick throw and some commentary. I’m still learning when to fall and when not to fall. Beginning of second month Much of the evening was spent with strikes and throws: break falls. I had never done a "breakfall" before, and I was intimidated. Despite feelings of dread, I had to positively guffaw at Carl’s demonstration. He hoisted Jay up onto his hip and bounced him up and down like a toy doll. I did the first technique with a senior student who was extremely nice to me. However, I wasn’t really expecting him to just plunk me right down on my first attack, but he did. I landed with the instep of my left foot down. There’s a nerve there, and my whole left leg got shot with pain that I had to shake out. After that he didn’t throw me, and he tolerated my clumsy and slow throwing of him. According to his own estimate, he outweighs me by about 60 pounds, but it really wasn’t that hard to lift him as long as I did it right. Doing it right was the hard part. After a while I worked up the guts to have him throw me again, and we got through once on each side before it was time for the next technique. The uke is literally using the gut; the stomach muscles help control the fall. That and holding onto the nage’s gi for dear life! This is called "taking atemi." [sic] For a long time I confused "taking ukemi" with "taking a beating" and wound up taking atemi. I’ve spent a lot of time dealing with injuries while I got to think long and hard about my ukemi. But my breakfalls are coming along! |
