shiho and tenchi for short people

as if it were not emphasised enough by my aikido buddies who are over 6 feet tall (or close to it, whereas i barely pass the 5 foot mark, dangit), my sensei’s at raktenjuku tell me that some moves in aikido are perfect for small/short/insert diminutive adjective here people like me. of the several techniques i have learned in the past several months (technically, i knew OF these already but now i can say i remember what these moves actually are and what they mean in english), two moves are tailor-made for me against the telephone poles who are my aikido buddies: the ‘shiho-nage‘ and the ‘tenchi-nage‘. ‘nage’ literally means to “throw” in japanese, so when you apply the technique, you are “throwing” your partner, so in a sense you become the thrower or technique-doer.

police hot

a close friend and sensei in aikido training has finally achieved one of his lifetime dreams: to become a policeman. when i gave him a lift from the sportoase to the train station some weeks ago, he was gleefully telling me that he could not wait to get home and play with his set of riot gear, given to them during training that day. i told him jokingly, “i can’t wait to see you in your snazzy new police outfit, sensei, especially the BDU Pants!” what i could not tell him, though, was that he would look infinitely better without anything on.

what i wish i could do!

training twice a week in aikido is helping me to improve my holding techniques. not only that, i’m beginning to harmonise my footwork with my arms. perhaps one of the best retentions i’ve had is sensei jan’s insistence on executing nage techniques with a huge ball in my arms. he and sensei tom (his brother) also emphasise using the pointer fingers to guide the arm movement in circles, whether upwards or downwards, and always in a spiralling fashion.

there is, however, one thing i wish i was improving in, and that is in the art of falling. the koteagashi moves mean that when the technique is executed so quickly and you have no time to react (that is, to protect your elbow sufficiently while rolling backwards onto the tatami, or mat), you throw your legs in the air and allow the rest of your body to follow, so that you swing through the air like a ferris wheel before landing on the tatami. it looks painful but it’s not. and it is so beautiful. because i think too much just before falling, i almost never get it right. which is travesty for a former gymnast as myself and a dancer at that. how is it that i can fall doing a modern jazz routine but cannot allow myself to be thrown to a ground that is soft and resilient?

the following video gives a teaser of what i am presently aiming for in my aikido adventure: how to fall with grace, aplomb, and style.

of footwork and poetry

the first time i did aikido was in 1998. i was living in the faculty housing of my university and when i had just moved in, i found the nights terribly long and lonely. some of my colleagues at the department were training under a first dan colleague, and after asking if i could join them, was invited to try it out when next they trained. we trained in the basement of the women’s dormitory and in my first few sessions had to borrow my friend’s taekwondo gi. i remember the horror on sensei‘s face when he saw me on the map with the word TAEKWONDO emblazoned on the back of my top; he told me afterwards that he preferred to see me in a shirt and jogging pants than a gi that had a different martial art printed on it. i was properly chastened. i must have practiced for a few weeks and then stopped when i joined the university sportsfest events of swimming, track, and volleyball. i won the athlete of the year award that year, also the same year i was voted “queen” at the faculty christmas party, the same party i was chosen to emcee (and i did this while heavily drunk — hic!). but i digress.