Congratulations to Dan Reid and Greg Corbin. They passed their shodan test over the weekend of Dec 2-4, 2016 on the occasion of the Northwest Regional Seminar. More than ten Birankai North America certified instructors were in attendance.
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| Greg left, Dan right; testing for shodan Dec 3, 2016 |
Part of their requirements included writing an essay.
Here below is Greg Corbin's essay. The next post will feature Dan Reid's essay.
Greg Corbin, December 2016:
Shodan
My daughter asked me – why Aikido? I explained it like this. I was first exposed to a martial art (Taekwondo) at an early age, around 6 years old, taking lessons with my father. I liked it but as with so many things at that age it didn’t stick. Still, the seed had been planted and I kept coming back to martial arts, formally and informally.
Toward the end of high school and the first years of college I starting training in Taekwondo regularly and was close to taking my black belt test when school and the rest of my life became too much of a distraction. I loved the training, and was disappointed not to continue and reach black belt, but my priorities were elsewhere at the time.
Fast forward a few years and I found myself living alone in Boulder, Colorado. Looking for something to fill my time, keep in shape, and meet new folks, I gravitated to martial arts again. This time Shotokan Karate. I was instantly addicted and knew right away that Karate was an even better fit for me than had been Taekwondo. I don’t have the impossibly long legs the most successful Taekwondo practitioners all seem to have, I always struggled with the high and flying kicks, and the direct, seemingly simple approach of Karate just made sense to me. Plus, the style mirrored my personality. I loved it. Couldn’t get enough. Went to the dojo every chance I could and even travelled to the home dojo in Denver for special trainings. I progressed quickly, but less than a year after I started I was on the move again.
It was more than a few years before I made it back to martial arts. A couple years floating, a couple years in graduate school, a couple more passing through LA, then law school, a new job, a son, another new job, a daughter, pushing to make partner at my law firm, the years stacked up. But the seed had been planted. And as it happened, a good friend and law school classmate had his shodan in Aikido. He had trained in Japan, but I didn’t know enough, and was too focused on school and being newly married, to learn much about his path. What I do remember is that one evening during our first year of school he and I went to check out a local Aikido dojo. He and I had been playing around with basic Aikido techniques at the gym and he seemed interested in getting back to formal training. So I went along. I remember visiting Multnomah Aikikai and talking with Suzane Van Amburgh Sensei, and yearning to train. I just wasn’t in a place to add another obsession to my life.
A decade passed, my kids were older, I had made partner, my wife’s veterinary clinic was on solid ground, and every day I drove home past Multnomah Aikikai. I had been doing so for years, but one day, and I have no clue why, I decided it was time to start training again. That was eight years ago.
So, I told my daughter, I never got my black belt. When you do, will you be done, she asked? Now that’s a good question. Yes, and no. I will have achieved a goal that’s been stuck in my mind since at least high school. So I’ll be done with that. But will I be done with Aikido? No. Here is how I explained it to my daughter.
It’s like your soccer. You know the basics. You can pass, dribble, trap, shoot, and play different positions. You are starting to have a feel for the field and anticipate plays. And now that you have those skills, you can see how much more you have to learn, and that you can be even better. Learning the basics has opened your eyes to a deeper level of play, and you know that if you keep training you will improve and understand the game in ways you can’t even imagine now. It’s the same for me with Aikido.
I know many of the techniques, and I’m even reasonably competent with some of them. I know the things to watch for when Sensei is demonstrating (foot work first!), and I see connections I couldn’t have imagined when I started. I can’t do everything, and I only do a few things well, but it’s different than when I first started. Yes, I still need to practice katate dori ikkyo, and all the others, but it isn’t just choreography. I know I need to use my hips more and my arms less. I need to relax, and breath. I need to think about the angles, and I need to be aware of where uke’s foot is. I need to make a center to center connection, and not lose it. I need to be light, and heavy, at the right times. I need to look up. I need to move, get low, and stay there. And I know all of that leads to something more complex, more subtle, and more satisfying, and I know I’m just starting to glimpse it.
But is that enough? It’s hard, I get bruised and sore, I’ve been hurt, and I may never need to use these techniques to defend myself. Is getting better at a physical skill worth all that? Maybe. I do like being good at something, and I love the idea that the more I practice the better I will become. It feels like the ability to improve is infinite. It isn’t boring, and it’s nice to move after a full day at the office. The physicality is exhilarating. But it’s more than that.
I’m better because of Aikido. I’m a better husband, father, lawyer, friend, and person. I work on staying centered. I try not to let the circumstances around me take my balance. I recover more quickly. I let go more easily. I breath more often. I used to get stress headaches all the time, but haven’t had one in years. I think about my connection to others, and I think about how to respond to the energy (positive and negative) sent my way by them. I try not to react out of emotion, especially anger or a desire to win. I value community and service to others, and I do my best to accept and respect differences. I try to be aware of my surroundings.
I didn’t learn all of these things from Aikido, but the practice brings them to the front of my mind. I find parallels between on and off the mat all the time, and I think about how to apply the five pillars in my daily life. I have a long way to go, both in and outside the dojo, but without training I won’t improve as quickly.
So, why is because I want to be better. I want to keep exploring, I want to be better at my art, I want to be a better person, and I know Aikido is the way for me to do that. It isn’t about rank, though the recognition will feel good and put a very old goal to bed. It’s the path I’m on that I want to continue.
Greg Corbin
