Author Archives: FastSlow

Long-time Komyozan Dojo member, Pat McDonald…

…returned to Great Nature, Wednesday July 16, 2014…pat_sanCROP






- — – - – - – - – he is in our thoughts- – - – - – - – - 

- – - – - – - – - – and greatly missed – - – - – - – - -

Embu for Japan Day, August 30…

japanday2014-234x300…at the Basque Center…

…601 W. Grove Street – noon onwards…organized by the Idaho Japanese Association.

At these 2014  Japan Day celebrations,  Kimbal Anderson Sensei and members of Komyozan Dojo will perform embu for the kami and for the benefit of the people…

…in the dojo(81) – sword hands!!!…


There are many swords in aikido (2)…


Because, as you can feel, aikido consists of the old-time sword-,  spear-, and body-arts  [ken-, so-, tai-jutsu],  but enlightened by a mind [that is] unified with the [natural] universe:  [for that reason] aikido is not there for being victorious [katsu-] among men [nin-gen],  neither is it for winning in disputes or in competitions,  nor is it [even] for winning without fighting. But, rather, you must win through to your own life-mission becoming part of the life-mission of the universe. You must follow along with all the changes that destiny brings in – and to – the universe. This will only happen if you are well acquainted with complete and upright virtue.

And so, accordingly,  when you have realized the Way of Aiki  [aikido],  you come to understand the innermost  logic and workings of the  universe: and more – you come to know your own self thoroughly.  [What this means is that], for instance, in the movement of even the basic  [ippon] sword-kata,  you enter entirely with your whole self, and are absorbed completely into the [natural] universe. Then in aikido  [you experience]  a sword that is a mysterious sword of  miraculous skills [myo-ho-ken].  But unless you follow the Way of this Sword in a way that fulfils your fundamental humanity and goodness,  it is nothing but the cruel sword [of setsu-nin-to].

- – - O’Sensei, probably audio-recorded by by Masatake Fujita, transcribed by Sadateru Arikawa Shihan, published in Aiki-Shinzui, p.109

O’Sensei no kuden: Jo(4)

If you hold your jo or katana lightly, and with an empty mind (mushin),  you will immediately be filled with an internal energy, and your waza will burst forth in such an impersonal manner that it will seem to you that you did nothing,  so rapid is this instantaneous movement.

But if your hand is stiff when you hold your jo or katana,  and if your spirit becomes fixed on your adversary, you are heading for certain defeat.

- – – translated (and possibly paraphrased in translation) by Itsuo Tsuda, recorded by André Nocquet Shihan in his Hombu training diary, 1955-57. Published in Maître Morihei Ueshiba: présence et message p.141



- – - – - – - – - – Lessons from Fire – - – - – - – - – - -

by Jolene Starr

In my search for a cure for the interminable depression that had consumed most of my energy for the past four years, I finally turned to shamanism.  Shaman and his assistant Lori, took me up toward Bogus Basin to perform a shamanic healing ceremony with me.

On the drive up, Shaman discussed the details of how the ceremony would proceed.

We’re going to build a fire,” Shaman said.  “Fire is cleansing. It can burn away sadness, anger, grief. You can have a conversation with the fire. Let the fire know what you would like it to do. But also listen to the fire. There will definitely be times where the fire will talk to you. Sit back and absorb what the fire has to say.”

We had gained about 1500 ft in elevation when Shaman pulled off the main road onto a dirt road. He drove a short distance, then parked.  “This is it,” he said.

I jumped out of the car and began walking up the trail while Lori and Shaman began to unpack the car. They had brought a box with firewood, camp chairs, an ice chest, and a blanket. They hauled them a short distance, to the other side of a large rock outcropping, where there was a natural clearing and a spot that had been used for a campfire before. Shaman and Lori argued briefly about the best way to start the fire. Shaman got it started, but then it died out. Lori took over. “Takes a girl scout,” she said.

Her fire caught and continued to burn.  While Shaman and Lori were getting the fire going, I wandered around and explored the area. There were a number of large boulders I could climb on, and I looked down into the valley. It was a clear fall day with only a few wispy clouds and we could easily see the city below. The temperature was in the low 70′s.

I came back from my exploration and I sat in a camp chair that was positioned close to the fire. The ceremony began with prayers to Mother-Father God and offerings of burnt sage to the four directions.  Chanting and dancing interrupted large spaces of silence.

Lori put a few sticks of wood next to me. “When you think of something you would like the fire to burn up for you, name it and put one of these in,”  she said.

OK,”  I replied. I grabbed a stick of wood.  “Shame,”  I said.  I gently tossed the stick onto the fire. “Here fire,” I said. “I want you to burn up all this shame. I have no need for it anymore.”

I stared at the fire as the stick began to catch.  The colors of the fire were intense:  blue and orange, in elaborate moving patterns. I glanced up at the enormous boulder that was on the other side of the campfire. Someone had sketched an outline of a face: large eyes, a mouth and a nose stared back at me. The face seemed alive. The expression was subtly changing. I looked back at the campfire. The small log that I had placed for shame was engulfed in flames now.

Here, fire,”  I said as I pushed another stick of wood onto it.  “burn up this  GRIEF.  I am tired of it.”  Sadness washed over me as I watched the fire burn.

I remembered Shaman had suggested that I have a conversation with the fire.  “Why did I have to be raped so many times?”  I asked.  The fire said nothing.  “Just karma, I guess,”  I mumbled to myself.  I looked at the fire; it crackled, then a loud pop.  “I’ll take that as a yes,” I said.

How did the rapes affect me” I asked the fire.

 “Stronger and more compassionate,”  the fire said softly.

What?” I asked.

STRONGER AND MORE COMPASSIONATE!”  the fire said firmly.

The words reverberated in my head. Stronger and more compassionate. Yes, I was stronger and more compassionate. Stronger and more compassionate than most people. I felt it and knew it was true, so I said it out loud, “I am stronger and more compassionate.” The words did not sound substantial enough.

I was strong, like Half Dome in Yosemite, like the 800 year-old Bristle Cone Pine that clings to a craggy outcropping of granite,  like the Caterpillar DC-979,  a huge earth mover that works in strip mines.

 I was a warrior for peace and justice. As a 19 year-old college student, when I’d stood up for justice, I’d been spit on by a bully. But I never crumbled,  never cried,  didn’t scream or fight,  just closed the door and walked away.

During my training as a young psychiatrist, I’d separated two young bucks bent on violence, a table flying across the room. Just risen from my chair and gave the command,  “Steve, you sit down. John, leave the room.”  They looked at me defiantly,  then they obeyed.

In my years at the VA.  I’d advocated for my patients with everything I had.  If someone needed a medication and it wasn’t on the formulary,  I fought with the pharmacy department. Once the Chief of Psychiatry came to my office to tell me that my patient, Ben, would no longer receive the treatment I had prescribed for him for the last two years. It was too expensive, a waste of resources. I had discussed the treatment with Ben. He was still benefiting from it and he wanted to continue. When Chief and I finished our discussion, Chief looked down sheepishly, said “you’re right,”  turned and fled from my office.

I was compassionate too. Maybe Mother Teresa had me beat in this department, but not many other people did. One cannot listen to death and destruction and the horrors of man’s inhumanity to man day after day without a huge dose of compassion. One of my patients said, “I know you understand, not by what you say, but because I can see the tears in your eyes.”

I looked at the fire. “I am stronger and more compassionate,” I said again.

The words did still not feel forceful enough, but I knew it was true.

Rebeca’s latest CD, Mostecelo, is…

mostecelo2here …and a preview of the upcoming here!

A change of optic:

Aikido is a gem of many facets – sometimes it seems that every one of O’Sensei’s students remembered a different teacher, and of course, many, many different styles have been preserved and developed – but here is one facet that clicked into focus for me recently:

what if O’Sensei spent his time away from Iwama and Tokyo coherently pursuing what he felt to be his “mission in life”?…

what if he spent his time away from Iwama and Tokyo creating and nurturing a network of dojos run by Omoto-Kyo, ex-Omoto-Kyo and Ko-Shinto believers ( hand-picked deshi,  some of them raised, almost, as members of his family) – - – and ex-Kamikaze pilots, too (!) – often with his own name on the sign -  in places – and close to shrines…

read more:

…peace pole!!!…