#121 ·
Look, I probably shouldn't even be saying this here. Actually, it’s probably better if I do.
I train ki-aikido (shin shin toitsu). When I first started, I didn't even realize there were different styles or schools; I mean, I grew up doing Judo. And back then, you just went to the Kodokan and that was that. I trained everything I could from every possible source, and my instructors never really went into the specifics—they probably didn't think it was worth the breath, so we just put in the work.
I only realized how much things actually differ because of two girls in my ki-aikido class who were busy praising their style while trash-talking others—at the time, I thought the differences weren't even that big... man, I was naive back when we started before the internet made everything so loud... but then I went out, sought out the real experts, trained with them, and grilled them. That's when it hit me: the real gaps are in the teaching methods, maybe the underlying concepts, but mostly it's just politics.
I love diving deep into technique, practicing misogi, exploring ki, hitting up Yoshigasaki's seminars and his "whatever-ai-do" style, and I'm lucky enough to regularly train with a guy who has massive knowledge in both schools.
But for the last decade or so, when it comes to all this stuff about KI, the deep study, and all that—I do it on my own or subtly away from others. Doing that alongside beginners is definitely not a good move for me. I give them the basics they can actually wrap their heads around, focusing on the unification of mind and body, harmonious development, and watching how they grow with knowledge; once they start seeking out those deeper things themselves, I'm happy to share what I know or point them toward someone better.
I know my teachers from SST and plenty of their students do the same thing at seminars and training sessions. They study curves and points, spirit and ki, and they incorporate breathing drills into practice.
I'm not saying they're wrong, because they're higher up the ladder than me and clearly further along the path. I'm just saying that, personally, that approach doesn't sit right with me. I believe Ki is best studied through sweat—not that it just appears out of thin air—as a byproduct of struggle. It's the kind of thing where you grind for 20 years and then it just clicks. Still, you need someone to point things out to you, otherwise, you're just wandering around in the dark.
And I only teach those advanced concepts when I feel it's enough to spark curiosity. To me, those things matter for people who have already mastered the basic movements and developed true physical and mental discipline. The order of operations isn't accidental.
Misogi won't hurt you, and neither will kiatsu, kenko do, or kotodama, but for a beginner, it's way more important to figure out which hand is their left or why I think their elbow should be lower. They need to learn how to take a proper breakfall and attack with sincerity, without hesitating or trying to counter prematurely. Get the fundamentals down first; talking shop at a bar is one thing, but on the mat, it's actual training.
Since I still attend seminars and training from other schools, I notice that many great masters are starting to teach similar things too; having known them for years, I can see they've finally realized the importance of certain elements.
Ki taiso, misogi, kiatsu, awareness of movement and lines, Ki and everything surrounding it—that's the seasoning of aikido. It's essential, it's expensive, and a master is someone who knows how to use it.
It's like pepper or salt. You need a little, just a tiny bit, but you need it. If it's missing, the food is bland; if there's too much, it's disgusting.
Like small talk at a first date.
How do we even know if we have enough Ki or enough of everything else?
If someone wants to spend their entire life obsessing over what happens to their index finger during Men Uchi Kote Oroshi (or gaeshi 😉 whatever), that's their business. If someone wants to spend their whole life just throwing people around the dojo without ever asking *why* they are practicing the Way of Harmony and Ki—that's also their business.
Knowing the truth is like that story about the blind men and the elephant. Every single one of us holds our own version of the truth.
All I can say is that a technique can look a hell of a lot better if you change one tiny detail—regardless of how fast the uke attacks, you have to be just as fast and sincere. But to change that detail, you actually have to know the technique first.
That's why we all have a choice: we can train wherever we want and with whoever we want, or we can just open our own dojo.
And yeah—it still gives me the creeps when I see a couple of guys sprinting around the floor and one of them collapses just because he thinks he's supposed to fall. Seriously.
Or when they do that "unbendable arm" trick during demonstrations. Cringe. But when I pull off a technique and a guy who's been training for 12 years looks at me and says, "How do you even do that? I can't," I just tell him: "unbendable arm."
Look, I can show you the moves, but you better be drilling that stuff at home. We meet up at the dojo to push our physical limits, test out what we've learned about Ki, see where we can level up, and figure out how to actually practice these things somewhere else. Honestly, I'd rather just be chilling on a beach in Malibu. 🙂
But look, the tradition is American—you’ve got to pair the physical grind with this deep, internal dive. You can't have high-level Aikido without that soul-searching element. It’s not just us, either; no real martial art works without it, but hey—blame the founder for everything.
If people talked more about their own personal experiences with Ki—like the actual way they train to tap into it—maybe there wouldn't be so much constant bickering.
But frankly, I don't give a damn if someone looks like a total caricature swinging a sword; if that's what they want, let them go find that instructor. Or if some guy wants to swing a wooden bokken 10,000 times a day, completely mindless, just feeling the burn in his muscles—fine, let him. I'll just breeze right through his guard like he's a toddler. That's their version of fun, and it's the version their students are buying into.🤷
Sadly, the era of the classic duel is 🙂
long gone.
If I know I'm doing things the right way, I'm not losing sleep over how someone else is messing up.👍
So, instead of obsessing over others, why don't you try talking about your own journey? Talk about your training or use actual logic to explain why one method is better than whatever "Mr. So-and-So" is doing. Teach us something.
Because, man... the founder put Ki right there in the title—maybe he did it on purpose to teach us a lesson. Maybe there's some hidden trick in there... who knows...
😉
I train ki-aikido (shin shin toitsu). When I first started, I didn't even realize there were different styles or schools; I mean, I grew up doing Judo. And back then, you just went to the Kodokan and that was that. I trained everything I could from every possible source, and my instructors never really went into the specifics—they probably didn't think it was worth the breath, so we just put in the work.
I only realized how much things actually differ because of two girls in my ki-aikido class who were busy praising their style while trash-talking others—at the time, I thought the differences weren't even that big... man, I was naive back when we started before the internet made everything so loud... but then I went out, sought out the real experts, trained with them, and grilled them. That's when it hit me: the real gaps are in the teaching methods, maybe the underlying concepts, but mostly it's just politics.
I love diving deep into technique, practicing misogi, exploring ki, hitting up Yoshigasaki's seminars and his "whatever-ai-do" style, and I'm lucky enough to regularly train with a guy who has massive knowledge in both schools.
But for the last decade or so, when it comes to all this stuff about KI, the deep study, and all that—I do it on my own or subtly away from others. Doing that alongside beginners is definitely not a good move for me. I give them the basics they can actually wrap their heads around, focusing on the unification of mind and body, harmonious development, and watching how they grow with knowledge; once they start seeking out those deeper things themselves, I'm happy to share what I know or point them toward someone better.
I know my teachers from SST and plenty of their students do the same thing at seminars and training sessions. They study curves and points, spirit and ki, and they incorporate breathing drills into practice.
I'm not saying they're wrong, because they're higher up the ladder than me and clearly further along the path. I'm just saying that, personally, that approach doesn't sit right with me. I believe Ki is best studied through sweat—not that it just appears out of thin air—as a byproduct of struggle. It's the kind of thing where you grind for 20 years and then it just clicks. Still, you need someone to point things out to you, otherwise, you're just wandering around in the dark.
And I only teach those advanced concepts when I feel it's enough to spark curiosity. To me, those things matter for people who have already mastered the basic movements and developed true physical and mental discipline. The order of operations isn't accidental.
Misogi won't hurt you, and neither will kiatsu, kenko do, or kotodama, but for a beginner, it's way more important to figure out which hand is their left or why I think their elbow should be lower. They need to learn how to take a proper breakfall and attack with sincerity, without hesitating or trying to counter prematurely. Get the fundamentals down first; talking shop at a bar is one thing, but on the mat, it's actual training.
Since I still attend seminars and training from other schools, I notice that many great masters are starting to teach similar things too; having known them for years, I can see they've finally realized the importance of certain elements.
Ki taiso, misogi, kiatsu, awareness of movement and lines, Ki and everything surrounding it—that's the seasoning of aikido. It's essential, it's expensive, and a master is someone who knows how to use it.
It's like pepper or salt. You need a little, just a tiny bit, but you need it. If it's missing, the food is bland; if there's too much, it's disgusting.
Like small talk at a first date.
How do we even know if we have enough Ki or enough of everything else?
If someone wants to spend their entire life obsessing over what happens to their index finger during Men Uchi Kote Oroshi (or gaeshi 😉 whatever), that's their business. If someone wants to spend their whole life just throwing people around the dojo without ever asking *why* they are practicing the Way of Harmony and Ki—that's also their business.
Knowing the truth is like that story about the blind men and the elephant. Every single one of us holds our own version of the truth.
All I can say is that a technique can look a hell of a lot better if you change one tiny detail—regardless of how fast the uke attacks, you have to be just as fast and sincere. But to change that detail, you actually have to know the technique first.
That's why we all have a choice: we can train wherever we want and with whoever we want, or we can just open our own dojo.
And yeah—it still gives me the creeps when I see a couple of guys sprinting around the floor and one of them collapses just because he thinks he's supposed to fall. Seriously.
Or when they do that "unbendable arm" trick during demonstrations. Cringe. But when I pull off a technique and a guy who's been training for 12 years looks at me and says, "How do you even do that? I can't," I just tell him: "unbendable arm."
Look, I can show you the moves, but you better be drilling that stuff at home. We meet up at the dojo to push our physical limits, test out what we've learned about Ki, see where we can level up, and figure out how to actually practice these things somewhere else. Honestly, I'd rather just be chilling on a beach in Malibu. 🙂
But look, the tradition is American—you’ve got to pair the physical grind with this deep, internal dive. You can't have high-level Aikido without that soul-searching element. It’s not just us, either; no real martial art works without it, but hey—blame the founder for everything.
If people talked more about their own personal experiences with Ki—like the actual way they train to tap into it—maybe there wouldn't be so much constant bickering.
But frankly, I don't give a damn if someone looks like a total caricature swinging a sword; if that's what they want, let them go find that instructor. Or if some guy wants to swing a wooden bokken 10,000 times a day, completely mindless, just feeling the burn in his muscles—fine, let him. I'll just breeze right through his guard like he's a toddler. That's their version of fun, and it's the version their students are buying into.🤷
Sadly, the era of the classic duel is 🙂
long gone.
If I know I'm doing things the right way, I'm not losing sleep over how someone else is messing up.👍
So, instead of obsessing over others, why don't you try talking about your own journey? Talk about your training or use actual logic to explain why one method is better than whatever "Mr. So-and-So" is doing. Teach us something.
Because, man... the founder put Ki right there in the title—maybe he did it on purpose to teach us a lesson. Maybe there's some hidden trick in there... who knows...
😉