Aikido - the way of the harmonious spirit - it just sounds cool

Aikido is a concept I love.  I am not a martial artist, my only experience at that being as a crash test dummy for my brother Pat when he took Judo lessons at the local YMCA.  No, as a professional involved in mediation, and as a dad to two terrific kids who get into all kinds of mischief, it is the philosophy of Aikido that I love.

Literally translated, it means "the way of the harmonious spirit."  Aside from just totally "digging" how that sounds coming out of my mouth, I find that that it is a great philosophy.

The concept of verbal Aikido is one I came across in a class at Central Michigan University.  Essentially it is the art, in conversation, debate, bargaining, mediation, whatever, of using your opponent's aggression and momentum against him or her.  To tap into the natural rhythms of an encounter, seize an opportunity to turn an attack into a defense, and redirect the other person's energy into something more productive, or less hurtful. "The way of the harmonious spirit..." Say it all together - it will make you feel great :-)

Looking back, I suppose my first inclination toward Aikido principles comes to me from my freshman year in High school.  I was a bullied kid - no doubt about it.  The youngest of three boys in my family, everything I did or encountered came on a path that had already been marked by my older brothers.

My brother Pat is four years older than me, so I entered high school the fall after he graduated.  In so doing, I encountered many seniors that Patrick had known as juniors.  Well, you can imagine that as the little brother of a varsity athlete in a small town - I was an easy target for those that were the younger rivals of my oldest brother.

Gym class, as a freshman, was a particular horror.  Punched by bigger, stronger kids while running laps, living under the constant threat of being "pantsed" or the recipient of a gift "swirlie", I learned quickly that I could not win a war of attrition against my larger, faster, meaner rivals.  I had to outsmart them using their own aggression.

The story I remembered the other day was from our archery unit.  I am sure they don't allow kids with bows and arrows in gym class any more, but way back when - when the Earth was still young and gym teachers were retired Drill Instructors - by God you climbed a rope and you by God learned how to shoot a bow and arrow in gym class.

The archery ranges indoors were about what you would expect - range safety was paramount, no goofing off, each "squad" of five boys got six arrows.  Six squads of boys all lined up parallel - shooting across the gym in dedicated lanes.  The kid at the front of the line shot all six, then stopped shooting until all "squads" shot all their arrows.  Then, we went down and plucked all six arrows from the targets together.  Heaven help you, mister, if your target comes up an arrow short or, especially, an arrow over.  Six shots you get and you better hit that target six times. Less than six meant running laps; more than six meant a trip to the office.

So standing in line next to my tormentors, I noticed that the two ring leaders are a) laughing, b) looking my way, and c) holding seven arrows.   I do not know, honestly, how I knew the plan at the moment, but I did.  I knew their plan was to shoot that seventh arrow into my target, blame me, and get me kicked out of gym class for the day.

So I lined up square to the target and fired off the first five arrows in volley form along with the rest of the class.  When it came time to lock and load the sixth arrow, I passed it quietly to the back of the line with instructions to the other freshman to "ditch this."  I then drew back the string on my Fred Bear recurved and let fly the equivalent of a "blank" in archery after which the teacher hollered the signal for all of us to stop, lay down our bow, and to walk forward and retrieve our arrows.

Before I was even 20 feet from the target, Dean, the henchman-follower of my two main bullies, started calling to the teacher that I had seven arrows in my target.  The gym teacher marched double time down to my target and told me to count off arrows.

When I pulled six arrows from my target, the two bullies looked at each other as if they were witnessing some act of black magic. The gym teacher looked at the chief bully, now loudly proclaiming that he saw me shoot seven arrows, and accused him and his pal of smoking "hippie lettuce" in the student smoking lounge.

So, lesson one - brains work, know your enemy, use his aggression against him.

The second thought I had about Aikido comes from later in life, when I had occasion to use the local "Town Suds" laundromat.  My wife and I were newly married and living in an apartment that did not have a washer and dryer.  Thus the ritual, which I still maintain, of emptying all the change in my pockets into a Mason jar at the end of each day was born.

On Saturday mornings I would load up the laundry, detergent, baskets, and jar o'change and head off for a miserable three hours at the coin laundry.

The day I am remembering was one where the laundry was packed before a home football game.  We lived in a University town and on the Saturdays of home football games, if you wanted to go to the game, you had to hit the laundry early and hard.

As it turned out, I found five machines that were all in a line so I hurried all of the laundry into the different washers (whites, darks, jeans, her stuff that I couldn't wreck and one load of all of the stuff that said "wash separately.")  I then inserted my quarters neatly into the slots knowing that, once I added the detergent, I could walk down the line engaging the washers one after the other so my wash would be done at the same time and I could then use fewer dryers to finish the job.

At this point I became aware of a small problem, I left the detergent out in the car.  Owing to the fact that I had about seven dollars in change poised to go into a variety of washing machines, I considered my options.  I could run out to the car and get the detergent while leaving the quarters in position, or I could take the quarters back out and then run out to the car.

I, of course, chose whatever took the least amount of time.  So, quarters in place, I backed out of the laundry and ran across the parking lot to the car, retrieved the detergent and ran back in.

I have not yet described the other male hovering around the "Town Suds" that morning.  Clearly sentenced to both laundry AND kid duty in excange for permission to go to the game later that day was a guy older than me, with 4 kids doing their best imitation of 40 kids, struggling to get his wash done, keep his kids under control and make it to the game.  I did not notice him much as I was loading up.

But, given his extremely guilty look when I came back AND the fact that about five of the seven dollars in change was missing, I concluded immediately that a) I chose unwisely when considering my options, and b) the jerk stole my quarters.

I did not have it in me to accuse him in front of his kids so I dug out the Mason jar, recharged the machines with quarters and got my wash on.

I was disgusted with him.  His every move in the laundromat gave birth to a billowing cloud of contempt growing within me.  Sharing the same aisle, it was easy for me to sit and listen to him as he chastised his children for being unruly and reminded them that it would just be a short time before the wash was done and they could all go home.  I distinctly remember him saying that he had to drop them off at home so he could meet his friends in time for the football game.

I watched as he unloaded the first of his six washing machines and wheeled the contents over to a huge dryer.  I glared as he dropped what were undoubtedly MY quarters into his dryer.  I only stopped staring at him when I noticed that all five of his remaining machines stopped at once - thinking to myself - "well pal, you did this all wrong, you needed to start them all at the same time so you could take all your stuff over to the dryers at the same time. You are going to be wasting a lot of time walking back and forth..."

I suppose it was the phrase "wasting time" that got the wheels turning in my head.  Before I even realized that I had dreamed up a plan, I was already putting it in motion.

Quick as I could, I loaded quarters into his previously still machines and engaged them to begin again their 45 minute cycles.  "You like quarters?" I remember thinking "Well good for you. I got plenty of quarters, how are you fixed for TIME..." I thought as I jammed the last load of quarters into his last machine.

My vengeance complete, I grabbed a newspaper and sat down, hoping the local daily would provide adequate cover for what was sure to be a guilty look on my face.

I made it back to my seat just as the quarter-thief came bustling back with two children hanging from his laundry cart like the plastic pieces from a "Barrel O' Monkeys."  He began barking at them to get off the cart and to watch out because he was in a big hurry and had to get this stuff right into the dry..."

I remember he said "WHAT THE?!" and ran from machine to machine, scrambling to answer the question of how these vexatious machines had managed to start themselves all over again.  With a subtle turning of my left wrist, I allowed the upper left corner of the newspaper to fold in against itself so that my face was exposed to only the quarter-thief.

The movement caught his eye and he turned quickly and then froze mid-pose, like a cartoon jailbird caught escaping by the warden's searchlight.  I gave him a quick nod of my head, and then a wink, and then went back to my paper.

Lesson two - it is best not to have an opponent, but if you have one, try hard to be smarter, and to have more quarters, than him.

So, grasshoppers, that is my lesson for today.  Best to walk the path of the harmonious spirit.  Whatever you are doing today, and wherever you are, I hope that your enemies are few and that your harmony, bountiful.

Have a great Weekend!

Dennis