Passing away
by Fran Turner
I won't forget 1996. There were deaths this past year of a number of aikido friends and acquaintances in the Eastern region. For me, the closest-hitting were those of Donny Lyons and Sam Shahin.
Donny was a friend from the Washington, D.C., area with whom I practiced a short time. Just before I returned to Toronto in 1983, on the bittersweet August night of my going-away party, I enjoyed dancing with him to Sweet Dreams are Made of This by the Eurythmics. In the years that followed, he went to train in Iwama and later established his own dojo in Virginia. He was a natural—one of those people blessed with coordination and an intuitive understanding of aikido. I sometimes found myself envious of his progress. The last time I saw him was the occasion of Capital Aikikai's twentieth anniversary in the fall of ?93. By that time, he'd been ill for many months. Although pale and thin, he was happy to watch classes and proud to have his students on the mat. A year and a half ago, I heard that Donny was in critical condition, but then a little later, Clyde Takeguchi Sensei, my teacher in Washington, said he'd pulled through remarkably and that the aikido community and his family were all supporting him. That made me happy.
When Susan Meyer of Sandokai called to inform me of the death of her friend and teacher, Sam Shahin, my first reaction to the news was shock, then disbelief. He was smiling and looked healthy when he trained at the Ontario Aikido Federation seminar in Brampton in early November. I did see him pause, as though to catch his breath, and I knew he'd had his heart monitored a couple of years ago. I didn't expect him to die in a few weeks' time. I was touched by being able to take part in the memorial practice arranged in Sam's honour in early January. It was led by Sam's teacher, Osamu Obata Sensei, of the Japanese Canadian Cultural Centre Aikikai.
When death touches us, it creates opportunities to reflect on the impact of the passing of life. Embedded in each life—mine as easily as anyone else's—is the truth that its end may come at any moment, like the slash of a sword. Awareness of death can certainly be a spur to keep us training diligently. I bow in gratitude for the good fortune of having a body with which to practice aikido. Aikido is a jewel that O-Sensei bestowed upon us, a treasure to come upon in this lifetime. Now, at the threshold of the millennium, is an especially important time to train in this beautiful art that becomes a vehicle for neutralizing the violence within and around each of us. And never should anyone underestimate the power of any individual to create positive and remarkable change in the world. As O'Sensei polished himself through so many years, could he have known how many lives he would profoundly influence—individually, internationally? As Donny and Sam pursued their love of aikido, did they know? As you practice, or I practice, day by day, do we know?
Back