Aikido and internal martial arts

In Aikido training there is a lot of talk about "extending Ki" or projecting your Ki, or filling up your body with Ki. This sounds a lot like the advice of Tai Chi teachers to "let the mind direct the Chi." Moreover, "Ki" and "Chi" (Qi) are respectively Japanese and Chinese words that mean the same thing, whatever it is.

Ki or Chi poses a difficult empirical riddle for those of us in the West. Our list of things that exist does not include a kind of energy or power that can be directed to flow and accumulate within, and even extend outside, the body. But to someone trained in Chinese Martial Arts, or Aikido (or JuJitsu), this energy, whatever you call it, is experienced and perceived as obvious. So much for an empirically level playing field.

Without arguing the ontological status of Chi, those who practice Chinese Internal Arts claim that in a practical sense it is the source of their power. In Aikido there is a great deal of emphasis on abandoning muscle strength, relaxing the body to let Ki flow, and then using the power generated by this flow to throw an opponent. The feeling is one of effortlessness and lightness for both the one throwing and the one thrown.

In Tai Chi the body is supposed to be light and supple, and in Aikido we practice emptying out the body, relaxing all muscle tension so that Ki may extend.

An interesting difference seems to arise in how we are taught to cultivate and deploy Chi or Ki by Chinese Sifus, and on the other hand, at least some Japanese Aikido teachers. The Tai Chi teachers often say, "let the mind direct the Chi." The Japanese Senseis, especially those who studied with Saito Sensei at Iwama Dojo, say, "let the body teach the mind." My conjecture is that the practices of both Aikido and Chinese Internal Arts eventually cultivate similar results, so maybe the seemingly opposing emphasis on the activity or passivity of mind is artificial.

It is true that O-Sensei, Aikido's founder, spent time in China during the early 20th Century. While there did he pick up some secrets of Chinese Internal Martial Arts, incorporating them later into the synthesis that became modern Aikido?

Comments

[Coleman Ridge]

What has always troubled me about ki is that if one gets one's timing right, gets one's angles right, keeps one's body lined up on the technique, and drops the hip properly, the technique is already effortless and light for both the one throwing and the one thrown. So where does ki come in?

Granted, when one does a technique right, one feels a warm flow through the technique into and out of the other person's body. But why should one attribute any causative effect to this sensation when one has an adequate set of causal explanations already in place?

I am inclined to think that the old senseis know how to teach this stuff, so I listen carefully and attend, but this troubles me.

[Jeff Dooley]

Yes, and taking ukemi from the old senseis, if possible, is a good place to experience the "something extra" that ki adds to the event.

As a student I've grown to think that ki can't flow if there is tension in the body of the one executing the throw. We probably wouldn't feel the reflexive need for such tension if timing, angles, body alignment, breathing, and dropping were exquisitely deployed as the technique unfolds.

I get a glimpse of this rarely, and when it arises uke is very light. At such moments do I feel the flow of ki? Maybe 20 years from now I'll realize that at this point in my career I really don't. Regardless, I think that the technical conditions you list are necessary and foundational for ki to manifest in the loop, if it is ever going to.

Staying in the game long enough to get these basics right most of the time may allow students to finally shift focus to cultivating and deploying ki. If that's the way it is, then there's a good reason for us to practice fundamentals of footwork, hip movement, body-alignment, etc. as though we were always beginners.