In Transition
by M.C.
At the tender age of 26, I am going through a "mid-life crisis". It may seem a bit odd and unhealthy to be doing this at such an early age, but in the North American native culture, this is quite normal. They have a different view of the stages in the life of a human being: from the age of 0 to 27, one is a child; from 28 to 55 — a teenager; from 55 to 81 — an adult; from the age of 81 to 108, one is an elder; and anybody who makes it past that is a Wise One.
When one makes the transition from one stage to another, it can be a confusing, frustrating time as one's definition of self and the world around him/her changes. In my case, I am becoming a "teenager," getting ready to take on more challenges and responsibilities, as I determine "what I want to be when I grow up." Knowing me, I can see that this may be an incredibly long process with no definite conclusions. I remember the philosophy of aikido: living in harmony and balance, so that, whatever I choose to do in my life, the goal is always balance. When I work 9 to 5 (which, in reality, is 7 to 7 by the time I get home), balance is difficult to maintain, and then it is time that becomes the real commodity.
It's been difficult to make a decision and move forward for a number of reasons, the primary one being fear of the unknown. I stare at a blank piece of paper with the intent to design my life, rather than allowing society or work to design it for me. I could be passive, following the masses, but a good soldier I have never been. And yet, I am lured by the only world I've ever known — the corporate ladder that I've been taught to climb with a carrot dangling in front of me to keep me going. I struggle between what should be and what I want to be, what I have been taught to want and what I really want. When I talk about security (job security), my partner constantly reminds me that there is no such thing in today's world and that it is up to us to make things happen.
Fear is one of my favourite words. Having read the book "Shambhala" written by Chogyam Trungpa, (who was the second in command to the Dalai Lama), I now have a better understanding of what it takes to overcome fear. "Just confront it," I used to think. That was the "Nike — just do it" way of going through life. But this is easier said than done. According to "Shambhala traditions," the answer is as simple as meditation, and that is why aikido is so important to me. Aikido is a form of meditation, as well as an avenue for getting in touch with my body.
In June, I went up to the B.C. mountains and spent a week in spiritual and physical bliss,
hiking in the grandeur of the Canadian Rockies. What I experienced was an inner feeling of not
just excitement or happiness, but the stirrings of a long-awaited connection with my ki.
For the first time in a long while, I was able to let go of my rigidity, breathe deeply and let feeling
flow through my body. I felt a wave, a flow of energy, and it left a tickling sensation in the centre
of my body and a sense of being on Cloud 9. I believe, this was a result of my physical, spiritual
and mental attributes coming together all at once.
Coming back to the city and to my job, I have vowed to hold onto what I felt up in the mountains. Aikido is one way of getting to that feeling, that inner connection of mind, body and spirit. The social, physical and mental interaction with friends at the dojo is icing on the cake. As I look into an uncertain future, I see aikido as one of the stabilizers in my life and try to keep it as my guide in making life's decisions.
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