Delight and Terror
by Abbey Smith
In my first advanced class at Shugyo Dojo, I felt these apparently contradictory emotions simultaneously. In no other combination of place, time and activity have I experienced these two in such repeated rapid succession. It was a Saturday midday in winter, after I had passed my fifth kyu test. Yes, I had previously blundered onto the mat at a few seminars, at the Central Y, where I was tossed around by the dedicated and gentle aikidoka of several dojos. So, I had practiced aikido with advanced students before.
This day was significant to me, however, because it was a step towards a different kind of commitment. Relatively relaxed and calm, but still unsure of what was ahead, I bowed onto the mat, noticing I was the only female student. To deepen my apprehension, there were three aikidoka wearing graceful black hakamas. Not only was I the oldest student (in years), I could see that I was the most junior in aikido experience. Uh, oh. "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread," my mother used to say. Indeed!
It is not surprising that the memory of the exact techniques Sensei Fran gave us that day and my degree of response are lost to me in the blur of the emotions I experienced. I was, by turns, momentarily stunned and thrilled. We, who study aikido, work to leave our attackers unharmed. Each of my partners in that advanced class was calm and patient, and though the dojo resounded with the impact of high breakfalls and black and blue hakamas swirled around me, at no moment did I feel at physical risk, diminished or belittled in my relative inexperience. I had chosen to join the class because I had the privilege, and none of my classmates made me feel out of place in any way. It was exhilarating.
Was I impressed? No, I was amazed at the strength, energy and skill of my classmates — and the enormity of the body of learning ahead of me. Now I know that to enjoy advanced classes, I need to be rested and clear-headed. My main goal at present is to become a more effective uke, to build technique through practice and repetition before taking part in advanced classes regularly.
Yes, I did feel a kind of fear — the unknown and unpredictable sometimes engenders that reaction in me; but my goal is to ignore the concept of failure and replace it with willingness to risk the gradual changes that I hope will come from my participation in the discipline of aikido. More of this unique pleasure will come, I believe, from the illumination of my personal shadows — the fear of hurt or failure. I've got nothing to lose but my terror. What remains is delight.
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