UNIVERSITY OF SANTA CRUZ

AIKIDO SENSIBILITIES: THE SOCIOSOMATICS OF CONNECTION AND ITS ROLE IN THE CONSTITUTION OF COMMUNITY AT NORTH BAY IN SANTA CRUZ, CALIFORNIA

A dissertation submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

in

ANTHROPOLOGY

by

Renée Rothman

December 2000

The Dissertation of Renée Rothman is approved:

Professor Olga Nájera-Ramírez, Chair

Professor Donald Brenneis

Professor Daniel Linger

Vice Provost and Dean of Graduate Studies Copyright © by Renée Rothman 2000 TABLE OF CONTENTS

TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS ...... iv ABSTRACT ...... vii DEDICATION ...... ix ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... x INTRODUCTION ...... 1 PART I. HISTORY AND DESCRIPTION OF NORTH BAY AIKIDO Chapter 1. Demographic profile of North Bay Aikido membership . . . . .33 Chapter 2. Histories: Asian and Aikido ...... 45 Chapter 3. North Bay Aikido Dojo ...... 61 PART II. THEORIES OF BODIES AND PRACTICE Chapter 4. The body and its senses: touching and feeling ...... 99 Chapter 5. Collective bodies and social change ...... 126 PART III. THE SOCIOSOMATICS OF CONNECTION Chapter 6. Class Description ...... 154 Chapter 7. “Grab my Wrist”: Somatic aspects of Connection ...... 166 Chapter 8. “Aikido is a metaphor for life”: Socializing aspects of Connection ...... 206

CONCLUSION ...... 261 APPENDICES A. Glossary ...... 272 B. North Bay Aikido exam guidelines ...... 280 C. Basic Dojo Etiquette ...... 282 D. Research Questionnaire ...... 284 BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 287

iii TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS1 Illustration 1. Extension practice...... 157 Illustration 2. Forward roll...... 159 Illustration 3. Back roll...... 159 Illustration 4. Shomen uchi strike...... 161 Illustration 5. Ikkyo in and ...... 161 Illustration 6. Shomen uchi nikyo in suwari waza...... 163 Illustration 7. Kokyu ho...... 165 Illustration 8. Nikyo standing with detail...... 184 1 Illustrations are from Aikido and the Dynamic Sphere by Adele Westbrook and Oscar Ratti, published by Charles E. Tuttle Company. Reprinted courtesy of Futuro Designs and Publications.

LIST OF EXERCISES 1. Spatial summation and adaptation...... 107 2. Double touch...... 111 3. Kinesthetic memory...... 167 4. Handshake...... 189

LIST OF FIGURES2

Figure 1. Osensei portrait...... 3 Figure 2. Morihei Ueshiba Osensei training...... 3 Figure 3. Gaza Bowen...... 90 Figure 4. Glen Kimoto...... 90 Figure 5. Dave Bryan and Bob Tingleff...... 90 Figure 6. Lunch was always provided for workers...... 90 Figure 7. Construction on new dojo...... 91

iv Figure 8. Construction on new dojo...... 91 Figure 9. Training room with cosmetic touches...... 91 Figure 10. Linda supervises the placement of rock...... 92 Figure 11. Japanese garden in front of dojo...... 92 Figure 12. Japanese garden in front of dojo...... 92 Figure 13. Lori Talcott, et. al...... 93 Figure 14. Jesse Burgess takes ukemi in Seattle...... 94 Figure 15. Penny Sablove and Denise Barry at summer retreat...... 94 Figure 16. New Year’s Day training at Natural Bridges State Park...... 95 Figure 17. Shin kokyu in surf at Natural Bridges State Park...... 95 Figure 18. Kangeiko at UCSC dojo...... 96 Figure 19. The close of kangeiko with certificate presentation...... 96 Figure 20. Lunch at Grand Opening of the new dojo...... 97 Figure 21. Bob Tingleff, Hope Malcolm, Charles Ruhe relaxing after class. . . . .97 Figure 22. Linda Holiday and her son, Nathan...... 98 Figure 23. Takashi Tamasu and Jan Mathers...... 98 Figure 24. Jesse Burgess, et al...... 98 Figure 25. Linda Holiday training with a student...... 255 Figure 26. Bob Frager with Aimen Al-Refai...... 255

Figure 27. Alan Holiday directing a workshop for teachers...... 256 Figure 28. Glen Kimoto and Hiram Clawson...... 256 Figure 29. Blandy Merrill doing sankyo...... 257 Figure 30. Aimen Al-Refai and Yannick Loyer...... 257 Figure 31. General class doing nikyo...... 257 Figure 32. Dennis Wheeler doing wrist stretch...... 258

v Figure 33. Jerilyn Munyon and Mary Gibino...... 258 Figure 34. Masaye Harrison turns her focus inward...... 259 Figure 35. Blandy Marrill and Tarik Ghbeish...... 259 Figure 36. The author’s first view of aikido ...... 259 Figures 37 through 41. Grab my wrist...... 260

2 All photos by author unless otherwise noted.

vi Aikido Sensibilities: The Sociosomatics of Connection and its Role in the Constitution of Community at North Bay Aikido in Santa Cruz, California by Renée Rothman

This dissertation examines the sociosomatics of tactility and kinesthesia through the modern, Japanese martial art, aikido. Aikido’s reliance on dyadic training partnerships in immediate physical proximity is a central element in the constitution of social solidarity among its practitioners. At North Bay Aikido dojo, the site of my research, a sense of “community” is deliberately cultivated. This study demonstrates that the very physicality of aikido—its modes of attention to self and others through tactility and kinesthesia—combines with its principles of “loving protection” and non-competitiveness to produce a sense of group solidarity. Training partners are seeking a state and sensibility of “connectedness.” “Connection,” in the context of aikido, is a metaphorical concept with correspondences in physiological, social, and spiritual experiences. Complex muscular, energetic, and shaped movements are the first ways connections are learned and explored. Practitioners create interpersonal relatedness kinesthetically by mutually “extending” an energetic sense (“ki”) into the bodies of their partners. The tactile phenomenon of “double touch” (the simultaneous sense of being the agent and subject of touch) combined with the kinesthetic experience of moving in concert with others diminishes the sense of an autonomous self while heightening the sense of union with the group. Two potential challenges to creating and maintaining connection are gender and rank. Pre-aikido gendered experiences are re-experienced and re-configured as women and men engage with one another in cross-gender or same-gender partnerships. Democratic ideals of equality of status and responsibility are upheld within a system of rank based on advancing (but non-competitive) performances of aikido principles and techniques in the context of exams. Resolution of gendered and other conflicts are practiced “on the mat” through the techniques themselves. Embodied experiences of social connection are then deliberately applied to interpersonal relationships beyond the training center and its membership. Here, practitioners both interpret and perform social interactions via aikido metaphors. Movement metaphors become models of and for proper social behaviors that resolve conflict appropriately, effectively, and peacefully. Dedicated to the memory of my mother Patricia Kendrick Rothman And in honor of my father Conrad Rothman and my husband Charles Frederick Ruhe

ix ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Research, critical thinking, and writing are never solitary activities. This dissertation represents the long evolution of my interests in culture, dance, and human experience. Along the way, countless individuals have offered their own passion and wisdom now embodied in me and expressed in this dissertation. I must begin, therefore, by thanking my parents, Conrad and Patricia Rothman, who allowed me to be inquisitive and taught me the value of research long before I became an academic. I’d also like to acknowledge my first anthropology teachers: Gail Kaufman (who introduced me to the field way back in 1972 at the Street Academy in Springfield, Massachusetts); Lynn Morgan, Deborah Battaglia, and Andrew Lass (my teachers and mentors at Mount Holyoke College who stirred my passion for this field and encouraged me try graduate school); and Ann Kingsolver and Steve Caton (my first year advisors at the University of California, Santa Cruz). The following people contributed to my scholarship in important ways: Nancy Chen (for her ever-enthusiastic support of my research topic); Steve Feld (whose ethnography Sound and Sentiment inspired me to pursue the anthropology of movement and sensory experience); Ellen Lewin (who encouraged my interest in American cultures); and Lisa Rofel (who turned a seemingly a self-evident term—community—into a subject worthy of close investigation). Ann Lauten merits very special thanks: Ann was always there with a sympathetic ear and the patience to be both guide and advocate through the bureaucratic system. Thank you to my dissertation committee: to Don Brenneis for his guidance and wisdom regarding my professionalization; and to Dan Linger who always challenged my assumptions and clarified my intentions. And finally, immeasurable gratitude and affection for my dissertation advisor, Olga Nájera-Ramírez. Olga inspired me as a student, a teacher, and a scholar, in addition to helping me navigate the doctoral process.

x I would also like to thank the professors that I served under as a teaching assistant. Although the dissertation is the most concrete evidence of my accomplishments as a doctoral student, these professors contributed enormously to my teaching abilities, a skill I value highly. It was a pleasure to work under and learn from Don Brenneis, Nancy Chen, Triloki Pandy, Anna Tsing, and Olga Nájera-Ramírez. Thanks also to Kathy Foley in the theater arts department for giving me the opportunity to develop my teaching abilities in my own courses. I must thank Linda Holiday for her permission to carry out this research at North Bay Aikido. Linda also provided me with most of the history of aikido in this region, assisted in the development of the survey, read early drafts, and took time to comment on the final draft (and in the process saving me from several potential embarassments). Linda was, for me, a consultant and editor, but more importantly, she was my sensei with all the implications that position carries. I would also like to express my appreciation for the inspired teaching from my first aikido instructors, senseis Martha Jordan, Jesse Burgess, and Dennis Wheeler. I must thank the following people from North Bay Aikido for their assistance in creating and pre-testing the survey: Linda Holiday, Frank Kirk, Kahlil Al Refai, Jenni Fickling, Rex Walters, Hope Malcom, and Charles Ruhe. To the dojo members who volunteered to participated in this survey and who consented to being interviewed, my gratitude and affection. Thanks to Adele Westbrook and Oscar Ratti for their gracious permission to re-print Mr. Ratti’s beautiful aikido illustrations. One of my training partners said it takes a village to raise an aikidoist—and a scholar. To all my training partners—my “villagers” as many of them described themselves—domo arrigato gozaimashita, thank you all very much. I owe a great personal debt to Marlene Pitkow, Deidre Sklar, and Sabina

xi Magliocco, for their friendship and ongoing moral support; to Katherine Spilde and Lori Felton, who kept reminding me that my project was do-able and valuable, and to my student Kathryn Clower for her invaluable help transcribing interviews. Thanks as well to Thunder Press for the use of their equipment. And I would be remiss if I did not thank my in-laws, Charles and Hope Ruhe, for their generous financial support. This undertaking would have been impossible without them. And finally, inexpressible gratitude to my husband, Charles Ruhe. It is hard to imagine how I might have written this without his help. Our innumerable conversations at the dinner table or relaxing in the living room have helped shape every aspect of this dissertation. He was a training partner, field informant, computer software assistant, photographer, editor, writing consultant, psychological counselor, confidant, companion, and friend. His faith in me and the endless support required to see me through graduate school have only deepened my love for him. Here’s to the future.

xii INTRODUCTION

Intro: My interest in aikido and theories of movement experiences “Grab my wrist!” commanded my husband as he extended his arm towards me after his first aikido class at North Bay Aikido dojo, in Santa Cruz, California. He couldn’t wait to share with me the wonder he felt through what he called the “magic” of aikido. I continued to grab his wrist throughout that summer—in the parking lot near the dojo, at the beach, in our living room—getting my first glimmers of the unusual kinesthetic experience of aikido. Then, when in his enthusiasm one afternoon he threw me into the living room couch, we decided that if we were going to continue to play like this, I would have to learn how to “take ukemi,” that is, how to receive his techniques safely. The first time I saw aikido, a modern, non-aggressive Japanese martial art, was in 1977 at a dance concert in Elizabeth, New Jersey (a concert in which I also performed in a modern dance choreography). The aikidoists (two women and three men) all wore a hakama, the stylized floor-length, black skirt usually indicating their rank as black belts, and performed the martial exercises to Pachelbel’s Canon in G. I remember being struck by its grace and power. Working always in partners, they spiraled and rolled in continuous, flowing patterns. From these graceful movements came an earthy power grounded in bent knees and a lowered pelvis but extending out through the appendages by designs I could not then understand. I did not see aikido again until my husband began to train at North Bay Aikido in the summer of 1995. As I watched his classes from the sideline I had deeply felt responses to the movement which were directly related to my embodied memories of dancing. Specifically, I re-membered my years of studying Martha Graham’s modern dance technique in : the smell of accumulated sweat in the hot, overly crowded studios; the deep concentration of people attempting to locate in their own bodies subtle shifts of energy and

1 musculature; the patterns of spiraling from the pelvis, and of the tension and release of the torso; and the characteristic ways of relating the body to the floor. The smells, sights, sounds, and passions that I witnessed at North Bay Aikido dojo, recalled my fondest sensory experiences of dancing and inspired me to try aikido for myself. I began my own classes in aikido in 1996 at the university dojo and then at North Bay Aikido dojo near downtown Santa Cruz.

Aikido Aikido—translated as the “Art of Harmonizing Energy (ki)”—was developed by Morihei Ueshiba (1883-1969). He continued a syncretic process that started in in the early 1600’s, in which traditional fighting arts were transformed into disciplines of character development and paths towards self-realization, or budo. In budo tradition, spiritual enlightenment and corporeal discipline are “interpenetrating spheres— inseparable aspects of the same phenomena—to be experienced simultaneously” (Friday 1997: 164). Aikido’s technical method is to blend one’s own “energy” (ki) with the energy of the attack and attacker, redirect its flow, and transform the outcome of the attack from aggressive conflict to peaceful resolution. Learning to connect harmoniously with a training partner in aikido is a task that requires the development of acute somatic awareness.

In basic training, aikido is practiced in partnerships in which both partners attempt to move in spiraling, continuous coordination. This harmony requires “connecting” and “blending” with the “natural” flow of ki (the universal life force) as expressed in the bodies of training partners, while also attending to the physiological and martial logic of . Aikido partners are not competing for dominance but are cooperating for mutual benefit: they are learning budo, self- cultivation through a martial art.

2 Figures 1 and 2. Morihei Ueshiba Osensei. Photos courtesy of North Bay Aikido.

3 Each member of the partnership takes one of two roles: or nage. Each engagement between partners consists of two basic parts: the attack and the technique. Uke’s role is to provide the mock attack—a strike, punch, or grab—and to provide the “energy” with which nage must work. Nage receives and blends with the energetic direction of the attack, producing a technique of “defense” in which the attacker is redirected. This results in uke being pinned to the mat or rolling out of the exchange (known as “taking ukemi”). Uke’s job in this partnership is to maintain contact as long as possible, and to respond to nage’s technique honestly by not falling down just because she knows that that is the inevitable outcome of this exercise. Uke and nage extend trust and honesty to one another, not just metaphorically but through physiological attentiveness and responsiveness. Conventionally, practitioners exchange roles of uke and nage throughout the class. At North Bay one individual may train with as many as eight or ten different partners in one session. These partners vary in age, gender, and rank or level of experience. It is a democratic system in which ideally everyone trains with everyone else. The range of partnerships made available to each individual through this custom is an important element in the construction of community at North Bay. The physical training, with its emphasis on care and cooperation with any and all partners, is where members begin to establish the social relationships that characterize North Bay’s sense of community. Despite its harmonious goals, aikido training can be emotionally and physically difficult. The intimacy of aikido training partnerships simulate emotional encounters from people’s lives off the training mat. Coping with self-doubt, fear, and distrust sometimes result in tears. Practitioners often report feeling as if they were reliving deeply troubling encounters between themselves and a parent, a boss, or even between

4 themselves and the ways they operate in society. Aikido students practice the principle of non-violent resolution embodied in the techniques themselves as a way to discover and enact solutions to such encounters.1 Physical pain is an uncontested reality of aikido training. Contorted wrist and shoulder joints, being repeatedly thrown to the mat, or sitting in “seiza” (the traditional Japanese kneeling position) produce injuries ranging from simple bruises to broken collar bones and chronic knee conditions. North Bay Aikido’s medicine cabinet is well stocked with bandages, sports tape, anti-inflammatory drugs, and analgesics. Ankle, knee, and elbow supports are commonly worn by practitioners. Red crosses taped to the practice uniform alert training partners to injured shoulders, backs, or hips. At North Bay Aikido, a painful technique might be met with laughter or with tears, and my research is in part an attempt to understand this phenomenon. The rewards of training must out-weigh the physical and emotional pain that may develop through training. Among those rewards are the pleasurable sensation of ki “connection” and the sense of belonging to the community produced through the dojo.

My research concerns that area of human action that Adrienne Kaeppler calls “structured movement systems” (Kaeppler 1985). This is related to, but not the same as, the field of human gesture and ordinary body comportment that Bourdieu called

“habitus” and Mauss “techniques of the body.” Structured movement systems refer to socially organized complexes of symbolically meaningful movement and include dance, martial arts, sports, or ritual action. Kaeppler’s phrase, then, includes a critical aspect often absent from academic studies of the body and embodiment, the MOVING body. How are theories of moving bodies different from other body theories? Many embodiment theories make the body a site of inscription, a depository of cultural

5 information, or in the words of Brenda Farnell, theories that talk of and about bodies rather than from them (1999: 342). In her estimation, moving bodies must be understood as “dynamically embodied signifying acts [which] generate an enormous variety of forms of embodied knowledge, systematized in various ways and to varying degrees, involving cultural convention as well as creative performativity” (343) This places the body and its movements in the position of actor and agent of cultural production. This approach is important for my study of aikido, because its practitioners are aware of and desirous for its psychological and sociological transformative effects. They are moving their bodies in an effort to create a new sensibility, an ethical body- self. To study aikido bodies as mere depositories and re-enactments of cultural knowledge or to study its movements abstracted from personal, historical, and social contexts denies the agentive creativity of practitioners. Through the practices of aikido I explore two primary phenomena: the sense of touch (which includes kinesthesia and tactility) and the constitution of community. Kinesthetic and tactile experiences are constructed by and constitutive of cultural sensibilities. I use “kinesthetic” to refer to the sensory ability to “monitor, organize, and make available to cognitive processes sensations of bodily movement, weight, pressure and balance, and relative position of the body’s members” (Ness 1995: 12n3). By “sensibilities” I mean the aesthetic values, logic, or rhythms which are felt to be proper and correct by culture bearers/makers. Its meaning is doubled by the sensory practices of aikido which carry within them the ethical meanings that dominate North Bay’s sense of purpose. In the case of North Bay Aikido dojo, these sensibilities are the foundation of their sense of community. Kinesthesia and tactility also have doubling qualities. Human movement “is unique among media of expression,” writes Deidre Sklar. “In movement, one does and

6 feels oneself doing at the same time. This doubled act of moving and feeling oneself moving can have uncanny effects.…It is an ultimate intimacy, a doing while being with oneself” (Sklar 2000: 72). In short, you cannot tell the dancer from the dance, neither as an objective observer nor as a subjective mover. In 1969, Maurice Merleau-Ponty advanced a theory of “double touch” or “reversibility” of touch in which touching simultaneously includes the sense of being touched. When in contact with another body, this phenomenon results in a confusion of self with other, a blurring of subject and object. In aikido, training partners develop deep somatic awareness of their own movements and how those effect the bodies of the partners with whom they are in contact. Paradoxically, the kinesthetic “ultimate intimacy” within one’s self combined with the tactile sense of union with another produce experiences of inter-relatedness or intersubjectivity. Very early in my research, I observed that at North Bay Aikido dojo, aikido’s training partnerships and its goal of attaining energetic harmony between partners (known as “connection”), figured significantly in the constitution of a local aikido community. At North Bay, “connection” refers to the sensory experience of harmonized movements between training partners. It also signifies social and emotional commitments with all the members of the dojo. “Community,” in this context, is a limited social entity organized around a sensual practice and sustained by repeated expenditures of energy both “on the mat”—that is, during training—and “off the mat,” or during non-training social interactions. Members of North Bay define the dojo as a community and take pride in their success and reputation as an exemplary “aiki” community (that is, one enspirited by the principle of harmony). My purpose is to explain how North Bay invents itself as such an entity. The popular American and dojo concept of “connection” is central to that explanation.

7 Notes towards a theory of connection in American community formations The formal definitions of “connection” are quite well established historically: the use of the term to describe personal relations (as opposed to the joining of material things) began around 1784 (Oxford English Dictionary). But the colloquial notion of “connection” as a necessary social phenomenon has become widespread in American popular discourse fairly recently. Like one of Emily Martin’s cultural “rhizomes,” talk of “connection” and “disconnection” sprouts in a variety of settings from television talk shows to popular psychological discourses. I suggest that a rising sense of disconnection in American society has increased through a number of historic changes. Connections between individuals and the community-at-large may be eroding through, for example, new distancing technologies that make it possible to play, meet new people, even shop on the electronic highway and to watch movies at home instead of in a theater. Indeed, today to “be connected” means to be wired into the Internet, not to feel close to other bodies. It is also increased by the loss of personalized relationships in everyday life—with neighbors, shop keepers, medical professionals; by the breakdown of America’s nuclear family and the ambiguity of current kinship strategies; by the new “flexible economy” that requires “flexible bodies” unattached to the corporation, co-workers, even locale (E. Martin 1994); and even by a general (but historical) anxiety around independence (individualism) versus belonging (conformity).

(Indeed, this disintigration of group relationships may be a consequence of the global post-modern condition, making it a much more widespread problem.) I suggest that since these discourses have reached into popular conversation, then “connection” must have been an experience that contemporary Americans imagine they had at one time and have now lost. The practice of aikido concretizes the notion of connection through corporeal

8 experience. At North Bay Aikido dojo, “connection” has a particular meaning: it refers to the practice and experience of being linked to a training partner by the mutual “extension” of ki, the universal life force. The term is used explicitly to describe the goal of training (to find and maintain connection) as well as to refer to the interpersonal, social relationships that can arise as a result of developing connection through training. I postulate that “connection” is a complicated set of experiences and practices with both kinesthetic and social components. “Connection” in the context of the aikido dojo begins as a bodily experience which eventually generates social sentiments. It is produced through aikido’s unique training partnerships and through social actions modeled on aikido principles. “Connection,” in fact, is the sociosomatic principle upon which all dojo relationships are imagined, built, and sustained.

The particular nature of an American community of connections Franz Fardon suggests that “the burning issues of anthropological theory are regionalized” so that a region becomes prototypical of an anthropological theme (Fardon 1990: 26). Thus to study caste one goes to India; to study individualism one goes to

America2; and to study social interdependence one goes to Japan. These are, however, stereotypes manufactured through a process of selective and partial representations of self and other. The process is "a particular strategy of creating difference…which proceeds by taking a partial view of the Other and a partial view of the Self and exaggerating both" (Gupta 1994:179). In 1972, Hsu was already arguing that "a majority of our scholars" on American national character have rejected evidence contrary to their personal opinions concerning freedom and equality (Hsu 1972: 383). An important part of my project is to demonstrate that while American individualism remains a primary national characteristic, its logical opposite (community) has always been a balancing force in this society.

9 The gestalt model of figure-ground provides a perspective on the relationship between individualism and community in America (and in Japan, though I focus less on that here). In this model, the figure is "always placed within and articulated against a background of which I am peripherally aware" (Leder 1990: 11). The figure is perceptually "in focus," more present to awareness; the ground is perceptually absent or out of focus, but provides the backdrop against which the figure acquires meaning or context. Although individualism and community are typically conceptualized as opposing forces, they are, like other opposites, "systematically related" by a complementarity in which one creates the conditions for the other (Bateson 1972: 92). Individualism and communalism are situationally foregrounded by local practices and by scholarly choices. For example, in Japan, the sense of individuality may be submerged in economic contexts for the sake of expidient workmanship, but foregrounded in contexts of charismatic personalities, like Osensei.3 On what levels of abstraction, then, do American discourses and practices of individualism and community operate? The notion of American individualism is persistent and widespread. In a popular television program, "Star Trek: Voyager," the supremacy of individualism is steadfastly asserted against "the collective," as represented by the most dangerous cultural force in the universe, the Borg. In innumerable episodes, individuals work to resist absorption into the collective mind of this arch-enemy of freedom. And they speak about it in precisely these terms. The American warrior-hero figure is another popular icon of America’s rugged individualism (Bellah et al 1985 and Donohue 1994). In television and film, the warrior-hero is characterized as a self-reliant, highly moral outsider with fantastic martial skills: he is "a rogue operator whose very lack of strong and enduring social connections (to family, community, spouse) frees him from constraint and permits him

10 to fight" for the moral and just causes of the average citizen (Donohue 1994: 55). Donohue cites as examples the 1953 savior-cowboy Shane and futuristic space-cowboy Luke Skywalker of the "Star Wars" series.4 Indeed, Bellah suggests that the heroic individual standing outside community is in fact an artistic reflection of the conflict between individualism and communalism (Bellah 1985: 145). Individualism is also emphasized in the political and economic spheres. The universal application of individual rights and freedoms are part and parcel of the democratic system. Personal liberties, neutrality and equality of laws and rights have taken priority over the communal good. Under American democracy, "the solitary individual bears both rights and obligations" (Daly 1994: xvi, my emphasis). Critics of this liberal tradition argue that universal values undermine community obligations, neglects "feeling" as a legitimate ethical response, and weakens character that is normally cultivated within group systems of morality. The result, they suggest, is an excess of self-involvement and the privileging of individual fulfillment (xvii-xviii). Some have argued that America's radical individualism creates a debilitating atmosphere in which individuals are driven to personal economic success at the expense of any support or assistance from others. "[B]y its denial of the importance of other human beings in one's life" "militant" self-reliance makes dependency and conformity pathological (Hsu 1972: 385-390). Of course, excessive in-grouping is not without its dangers, as is easily observed in any extremist organizations that seek to reduce the rights of those outside the group. Social scientists have long characterized Americans as autonomous, individuated selves, beginning at least with Alexis De Tocqueville’s frequently cited 1841 tome. In a collection of essays by non-American anthropologists attempting to view "America as a Foreign Culture" (DeVita and Armstrong 1993) Americans are characterized almost

11 globally as individualistic (see especially in that volume Ramos, Kim, Poranee, Ojeda). Everything in American behavior from child-rearing to table manners is explained by reference to the value and goal of individualism. In their characterizations of Americans, these authors appear to be simply recapitulating earlier theories on American individualism developed by Tocqueville, Varenne, Bellah, and others. But given the persistence of the notion of American individualism, it must continue to pertain to Americans under certain circumstances. It has also been argued that the cherished ideal of individualism places individuals in conflict with their desire for communality. In what ways, then, do Americans connect themselves to meaningful social worlds? According to some researchers, Americans join “voluntary associations” (Varenne 1977, Bellah 1985, Fitzgerald 1972) as substitutes for “real” communities. These real communities are rarely defined by the authors, but they imply that they are naturalized communities one is born into; that one cannot to choose to be a member. The voluntary nature of “associations,” they argue, makes it possible to retain autonomy while participating in “artificially” created communities of choice (Varenne 1977: 39). Beeman (1986) argues that personal choice itself is the “symbolic action that allows Americans to assert their commitment to individualism.” But the choice to join also carries the conditions for conformity to a community. In choosing to buy a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, for instance, I also join an international community of riders: conformity by choice. Even “Trekkies” (fans of Star Trek movies, television shows, and books that promote individualism) create their own collectives by meeting at conventions and communicating via the internet. Joining voluntary associations is one strategy for mediating the contradiction of the dominant value (individualism) and the (perhaps) human need for social ties

12 (absolute independence being mostly a theoretical possibility). I disagree with earlier social scientists who suggest that invented communities are “substitutes for real communities.” Modern communities are not substitutes for anything: they are the communities of the 20th and 21st centuries. Communities are appropriate to the specific historical and cultural moments of their invention. Those based on close proximity of living quarters were appropriate to earlier centuries in Western history as they continue to be for many small-scale societies. Today, Western communities are arranged around different forces. Dart (1995), for example, distinguishes between a “community dance” and a “dance community.” The former is characterized as an event in which the relationship of participants exist independently of the dance event itself (Dart 1995: 14). In a “dance community,” by contrast, “the dance is the community” (196, my emphasis); it is the primary point of reference through which people engage with one another and serves to define the community boundaries. North Bay Aikido dojo is an example of the later: a movement community produced and maintained through the practice of aikido. Despite their inventedness, modern communities founded on common interests or goals are nonetheless real: they are real to the people who belong to them and they have real emotional and social impact on their members.

Embedded versus connected

North Bay Aikido is a movement community self-consciously creating itself around a martial art practice and culture. The aikido metaphor of “connection” describes a relationship of interconnectedness with others in the dojo as well as in the wider community. For the purposes of this argument, I suggest that this is not the same as being “embedded” in community as in Fijian culture (Becker 1995) nor is it the same as the interdependency that typically characterizes Japanese social relations (Hendry 1987; Kondo 1987; Backnik 1998). In Fiji, selves are “deeply embedded in a relational

13 matrix” (Becker 1995: 5) which is “cultivated at the expense of autonomy and independence” (18). Japanese relationships between self and others are, in the ideal, characterized by a set of reciprocal obligations. The self is “constituted in interaction with others” or in the lively processes enacted between self and other (Bachnik 1998: 92). In general, the Western self is understood as separate and distinct from all others including groups of others. It is “substantive” rather than “dynamic” (93). Connection allows Americans to be in important relationships with others while also allowing them to maintain a sense of autonomy. To be connected also implies its opposite, disconnection. You can always opt out, and that way maintain a sense of individual choice. How are the notions of being embedded in groups or being situationally interdependent with groups different from being connected to groups? “Enmeshment” in popular American psychology movements (over past 20 years anyway) has been viewed as a pathological problem. To be enmeshed in relationships has meant to be controlled by and dependent on others in ways that are considered destructive to a psychologically well-balanced individual. And enmeshment has been experienced as pathological by many of the people who have been marked (by themselves or their therapists) as being enmeshed. For Americans to be “embedded” in community, then, would be equivalent to being enmeshed and therefore to be in a psychologically inappropriate situation.

Conversely, to become an island of self is also inappropriate; it is anti-social. Some theorists of U.S. national character have argued that America’s radical individualism has created a debilitating atmosphere in which individuals are driven to personal (usually economic) success at the expense of any support or assistance from others. Thus, being disconnected from others also puts Americans at risk for socially damaging behaviors. For example, Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) historian Ernest Kurtz

14 argues that independence and self-reliance characterize the modern concept of a fully mature and psychologically sound individual (Kurtz 1991 [1979]: 216). But, Kurtz contends, “absolute, total independence” also creates the conditions for alcoholism. In the U.S. alcoholism is considered a pathology of isolation and the success of the AA program relies on the individual alcoholic accepting that he is “not God”—neither in total control of his private universe nor alone in it (Kurtz). Recovery from this particular pathological isolation requires a commitment to fellowship, to maintaining lifelong membership to an AA group. Still, AA has been and continues to be criticized for encouraging infantile dependence between members and on the program rather than curing the dependence on alcohol by helping individuals to develop mature independence. In American popular culture being disconnected is equally as dangerous as being enmeshed.5 Connectedness becomes a description and practice or relationship wherein self control and choice is upheld, but where personal action is placed in the context of group membership.

Body, self, and society Aikido as practice in Santa Cruz may represent a challange to dominant notions of the body-self relationship. The Western body is popularly characterized as an organism with relatively fixed and stable surfaces. The notion of a discrete body may also be a somatization of an individualized self…or vice versa. Regardless of which comes first, a discrete body makes sense to an individuated self. The most common Western metaphor for the body is that of a “container” (Lakoff and Johnson 1980). “We are physical beings, bounded and set off from the rest of the world by the surface of our skins, and we experience the rest of the world as outside us. Each of us is a container, with a bounding surface and an in-out orientation” (29). The Western body has an outer surface which can be inscribed, adorned, manipulated and the boundaries of which are

15 the end of a continuum linking the individual with society. This holistic Western person is, Geertz reminds us, “set contrastively both against other such wholes and against its social and natural background” (Geertz 1976: 225). The cultivation of a Western self is achieved through the exclusive, “personal space” of the individual body (Becker 1995: 129). Historically, anthropologists have mistakenly projected this container model of the body (“a rather peculiar idea within the context of the world’s cultures” (Geertz 1976: 225)) onto the rest of the world. In his ethnography of Sinhala rituals, David Scott demonstrates that not all bodies are constituted as closed and separate objects. The Sinhala body “is constituted of forces—a system of energies vulnerable to the play of other energies and forces in the cosmos” (57). Scott thus challenges the notion of a “universal body,” arguing that “there is no universally invariable body but rather several historically and culturally specific bodies” (Scott 1994: 53). Bodies are not given but created and experienced as realities; they “constitute a density and not a mere symbolic transparency” (Scott 1994: 53, my italic). But it is a mistake to assume that any culture group fully adheres to dominant constructs of the body and body experienced. The American notion that the skin represents the end boundary of the body-self assumes (or produces the assumption) that there are no unseeable entities or energies that can leak out of or into one’s body, as is the case with

Sinhala bodies. The vulnerabilities of the Western body are located at or around its orifices, dangerous breaks in the secure boundary of skin. This dissertation attempts to explain what Westerners do with the Eastern phenomenon of ki: a natural force that flows within and between people.

Connection and bodies in motion How does the American-experienced notion of connection impact bodily practices and

16 experiences? It seems a crucial question in regards to my research on the role of kinesthetic experiences in the constitution of community. “Connection” and physical contact share a tense space together in American society. As I discuss in the next chapter, white, middle class Americans tend to avoid physical contact. A shared habitus of non-contact has implications for the nature of social solidarity possible for this body culture. Deidre Sklar, for instance, describes her anxiety about being in the women’s section of a Jewish synagogue where women “piled up, leaned on, and spilled over each other” (Sklar 1994: 10). The tactility of the situation (which Sklar suggests is “an essential aspect of Jewish solidarity”) called for an ability to yield to the group, to be shaped by its pressures and movements (19). Sklar’s urban training and Southwestern fieldwork experiences regarding rules of bodily contact conflicted with the easy press of women’s bodies in the synagogue. What kinds of strategies have Westerners devised for being “in touch” with others while also allowing them to maintain autonomy? The 1970s development of Contact Improvisation (CI) (Novack 1990) was an obvious and bold attempt to put Americans together physically by intentionally violating norms of contact. Contact Improvisation offers its practitioners the opportunity to have unlimited physical contact with other dancers in a very particular context. In CI, the dancer’s attention is on biomechanics and gravity (1990: 166) and on the weight and mass of one’s own body and the body of partners (163), rather than on the gender, sexuality, or social standing of bodies. Some contact improvisers attribute this development to the “touchy-feely” era of encounter groups when a new sensuality was emerging in counter-response to the older Puritan standards (166). Aikido also provides this kind of extended contact but in a more formal way.

17 Connection in the context of aikido As I stated above, I use “connection” as a metaphorical concept with correspondences in somatic, psychological, and social experiences of aikido. That metaphor takes on further reality as it is used to interpret social life outside the dojo and to act in new ways in general. Thus, connection may provide a “coherent structure to a range of [ ] experiences” (Lakoff and Johnson 1980: 151) both within and outside of the dojo. Connections are made kinesthetically, socially, and symbolically. Complex muscular, energetic, and shaped movements are the first ways connections are learned and explored. Aikido’s reliance on dyadic partnerships in immediate and intimate physical proximity creates the dynamic through which connection is made. Repeated attempts with multiple partners over time produce networks of individuals connected to each other through an emerging ability to harmonize or blend with one another’s ki. Levels of experience (materially marked by a belt ranking system), along with a gendered habitus, physical size, and different personalities produce conflicts which threaten harmonious connections and therefore must be confronted. These are dealt with at various levels: instructional (sometimes as direct verbal and physical solutions) and personal (through on- and off-mat discussion and experimentation). In addition, women-only classes are offered throughout the year as a way of supporting women’s sociological, emotional, and physical issues.

As soon as I grab a wrist in an aikido class, I have agreed to enter into a particular relationship. That relationship is very clearly defined “on the mat.” Roles are defined as uke and nage. Proper behavior is defined as caring, cooperative, sincere, and trusting. “Connection” describes the nature of aikido relationships and the goal of training. In the words of one of my training partners, connection is “a kind of extended proprioception. We learn to extend our body sense into another. You enter your partner’s nervous system to feel what they

18 bring to the mat, but also to direct your energy into their system.… This is what we are learning to do in aikido. The waza [techniques] are our means to learning connection.” (Charles) Practitioners learn to feel this connection kinesthetically and along with it they learn to feel how deeply they are extending and/or receiving care, cooperation, sincerity, and trust. Ki is the connective force extended and experienced in these kinesthetic dialogues between partners. Practitioners at North Bay don’t always agree on the nature of ki: some believe it is an actual energy force, others understand it as a metaphor that helps them know how to move appropriately. Regardless of philosophical stance, ki is the image and language of connection. Learning to effectively communicate this way in aikido—to become aware of the flow of ki, to learn to organize and direct one’s own ki, and to “read” and respond to the ki of one’s partner—is a central concern of training at North Bay. Community is one of the products of connection. In addition to kinesthetic connections on the mat, social connections are made off the mat through formal dojo- sponsored practices (misogi or cleaning/purifying the building, event planning, or dojo- wide meetings) and events (potluck parties, celebrations, etc.) as well as through private informal socializing between individuals who meet through the dojo. Symbolic connections are produced also through non-training dojo practices like, for example, the tradition of sharing the expense and purchase of a new black belt’s first hakama (a long, pleated skirt), or the volunteer labor of renovating the new dojo building between 1996- 98. “Connection,” then, is both a socializing act and a symbolic and experiential means of making sense of those acts. For members of the North Bay Aikido community, it is a metaphorical concept flowing between social, symbolic and experiential action. In order to explore the complexities of connection I will discuss the effects of

19 rank and gender on these experiences and on the “on-the-mat” and “off-the-mat” social relationships. I include some discussion of North Bay Aikido’s relationship to other dojos in this region, worldwide, and most significantly to the originary dojo in Japan. I also discuss the Japanese and American body cultures that meet on the mat; the Japanese and American management styles that form the infrastructure of North Bay; and the Japanese and American social values that shape both the training and non- training activities and relationships in the dojo. However, “connection” is the principle upon which they are all built and sustained. In describing the neuromuscular mentality of connection, I will show how kinesthetic and tactile practices contribute to the development of a self in community—or more exactly, a self in communion with others.

Methods in theory and practice Movement scholar Brenda Farnell (1995) argues that earlier movement analysis models grounded in theories of nonverbal communications were inadequate for two reasons: they are logocentric and they rely on observational and decontextualizing methods. As an alternative to this approach, she advocates a frame of reference that includes both spoken language (speech acts) and movement (human action signs); and a dialectics of the “visible” and “invisible.” “Visible” movements can be observed and analyzed for their functional and or anatomical details. But, she writes, “from an anthropological perspective it is the ‘invisible’—features of social organization, cultural values, and human beliefs and intentions—that determine the meanings of the visible” (Farnell 1995: 2). The person, then, must be viewed as “a moving agent in a spatially organized world of meaning” (7, italic in original) as well as a speech agent. The speech agent does not cease to function when the moving agent is in motion. Methodologically, Farnell’s approach requires the fieldworker to “make central the learning of actions as well as speech patterns. It includes focusing upon what people

20 do and what they say about what they do. Important too, are actions that people perform but never put into words because the knowledge is a “‘knowing how’—to use Ryle’s (1949) term—rather than a ‘knowing that’” (Farnell 1995: 3). Farnell is adamant that relying solely either on linguistic or on “some kind of shared prelinguistic but ‘lived’ somatic experience” is a mistake. It is reductionist and perpetuates a Cartesian attitude towards body and mind. In addition to this, I suggest that even what is “visible” to the observant fieldworker changes as the “invisible” is experienced; that is, what we are capable of seeing is shaped by what we come to know experientially in the field. Since I wanted to convey how it feels to perform aikido, I have of necessity included my personal experiences in my methodological approach and analysis. Like many other dance ethnographers (Susan Foster and Sally Ness, for example), I bring to the field a life-long study of dance (ballet, modern, and vernacular). I include my own “bodynotes”—a term I coined following Simon Ottenberg (1990)—to my written notetaking. Simon Ottenberg extended the idea of fieldnotes to include “headnotes,” the “impressions, scenes, experiences” and reflections held in the head of the fieldworker for later recall (Ottenberg 1990: 144). “Bodynotes” are the nonlinguistic memories of anthropological field experiences captured not by the pen in our fieldnotes, but held in our bodies and our senses.6 In Body and Emotion (1992), for example, Robert Desjarlais writes that although he had not include his kinesthetic experiences in his fieldnotes, “my body had noted them, viscerally.” I refer to these sense memories as “bodynotes” a term I first coined in 1994 to try to describe the bodily knowledge I had acquired while doing dance research in Massachusetts. My fieldnotes regarding my training experiences are detailed expositions of the pedagogical styles of instructors and their linguistic strategies (the use of metaphors, introduction of the founder’s philosophies, descriptions of the actions, etc.), the

21 mechanics of the techniques as I understood them, and my own mental and emotional processes and reactions to the exercises and metaphors. While recognizing that these impressions are subjective—the point of view of one American female dancer with a particular psychological and cultural history—I nonetheless took initial inspiration from my own field-, head-, and bodynotes to determine interview questions. Confirmation of my reported experiences against other textual descriptions and against reports from other aikidoists allow me to determine how generalizable or particularistic my experiences were.7

My situation in the field and field activities I conducted my fieldwork at the dojo between 1996-1999. In addition to regularly attending classes and taking two promotional exams, the fieldwork required a great deal of participation in dojo life. I videotaped special events and rank exams and worked as a volunteer receptionist three hours weekly. In April of 1999, I even participated in our “Aiki Follies” an evening of amateur entertainment.8 I voluntarily oversaw two major projects for the dojo: I created and input a database for the book library which required verifying the condition and location of sixty-five books; I organized and guided a video duplication project which included coordinating the duplication of approximately fifty historically and locally important videotapes. I was asked to serve as one of two coordinators of volunteer workers for the annual summer training retreat (July 7-11, 1999). That year the special guest instructor was a Japanese master, a direct student of the founder of aikido, and one North Bay’s chief instructor’s most influential teachers— in short, one of North Bay’s “grandfathers.” His visit required a great deal of additional planning in order to meet his social and dietary needs. That year I also served on the documentation planning committee whose job it was to arrange for audio interviews and video documentation of this historic event.

22 Fieldwork techniques In addition to participating as a practitioner and dojo member, I conducted twenty formal interviews concerning the general topics of this dissertation, though some of them focused on specific issues. I interviewed Linda Holiday specifically to gather historical information, a history which was begun in a 1995 interview conducted by Martha Jordan, chief instructor of the UCSC dojo. Key informants were chosen because they addressed the ideas I was interested in exploring and, in interviews, articulated aikido experiences and philosophies with beauty and passion. Occasionally, I did more than one interview. For example, I interviewed Dennis once regarding general topics, and once regarding his nidan exam. As a part of this exam, Dennis choreographed what he called a “movement piece” in which he expressed some of the most profound meanings embodied in the practice of this art. The movement piece itself was unusual because it is a rare occurrence to perform a choreography in the context of an exam and because it was performed as a solo. In the follow-up interview, Dennis and I watched a videotape of his exam while he inserted comments and answered questions. Although this material did not make its way into this dissertation, I have presented it as a paper at the 1999 meeting of Congress on Research in Dance. Over the course of my research period, I produced a number of videotapes of everyday classes, special events, and promotion exams. All special event and exam tapes were duplicated for the dojo lending library and/or for interested individuals. When exams are below black belt, it is the dojo practice to offer to video tape all examinees and to make that tape available for their own viewing or duplication. Exams at black belt and above are, in addition, made a part of the permanent dojo collection. Videos of visiting sensei are made only with their permission and copies made for them if requested. Videotaping at the dojo was difficult because I had to stand off the mat to

23 one side of the room, and because of the bright natural light, white walls, white and black uniforms, and poor acoustics. The acoustical problem was most unfortunate because I had hoped to capture some of the language and storytelling that characterizes North Bay. In general, however, I found that in the process of writing the dissertation, reference to these videos was not necessary, though I think the act of making the tapes was valuable to me as an observer and as a service to the dojo.

The field site My field site, located in downtown Santa Cruz, is unusual in that it challenges the conventional anthropological practice of sending apprentice ethnographers to geographically distant places. My research topic is also unusual. North Bay Aikido offers a specific situation in which to examine how social solidarity is produced through sensory activities and thus speaks to anthropological concerns over the constitution of intentional communities and the embodiment of cultural knowledge. My theoretical questions as well as my methods also contribute to our disciplinary conversations about the nature and location of “the field,” our relationship to and with our field subjects, the meaning of participation, and the embodiment of knowledge in the field. In order to study how “community” is created and maintained, I had to enter that community by participating fully in its activities. Therefore, in addition to training in the martial art, I also volunteered time at the dojo. With each of these voluntary efforts, I discovered a new depth to the community that I could not have known otherwise. These opportunities revealed to me the richness of this community, only some of which I have attended to in this dissertation. Conventionally, anthropologists have left the site of their academic work, entered into their field at locations distant in time and space, and returned from the field to write their dissertations, articles, and books at their home institutions. The impossibility of

24 this pattern was underscored for me by the following incident. I stood stretching out the kinks acquired while videotaping various events at the 1998 annual Japanese Cultural Fair, at Mission Park in Santa Cruz, California. The Park is about a mile from the University where I was completing my doctorate in anthropology. It is also a short walk to North Bay Aikido, the specific site of my field research and on this day, host to the Fair’s martial arts demonstrations. As I scanned the crowd gathering for the finale performance by Taiko Dojo, I spotted Nancy Chen, one of my academic advisors. And there at the back was Kathy Foley, director of the core course in Theater Arts that I was to teach in the fall. Walking past her was Hope, a friend and training partner at North Bay Aikido. To my right were other members of the dojo as well as Martha Jordan, my first Aikido instructor at the University. Early in my fieldwork, I realized that my academic world and my field site were not and never could be separated by time or place. They are not separated even by population, as some of my undergraduate students at the university are my rank seniors on the training mat. I struggled for about a year to try to keep these worlds separate from one another, simply in order to maintain some semblance of conventionality. After all, how could I call myself a real anthropologist if I never left for and returned from the field? Or if my field subjects were mingling casually at a local fair with my academic advisors? I never was successful in distinguishing these sites. Each has fed the other, even from the beginnings of my thinking about Aikido. For example, during my winter 1996 quarter at UC, Santa Cruz I had a set of provocative experiences that changed the questions I was asking in my dissertation plans. In the mornings I took folk dance classes and trained in Aikido. I came away from these experiences exhilarated, filled with life, energy, and inspiration for possible research projects. In the evenings I had my graduate seminars. I left those feeling

25 depleted, defeated, and depressed and sincerely doubting my future as an academic. I asked myself, “What is the meaning of my kinesthetic distress in academic seminars and the kinesthetic ecstasy which arises when I explore my self and my world through my moving body?” In a some sense, my fieldwork became a personal quest to understand the intersection between these two ways of learning and being in the world. It has been inspired by a commitment to anthropological ways of seeing and thinking; by my dissatisfaction with academic teaching methods; by my fascination with the alternative learning environment of aikido; and by the kinesthetic pleasures and distresses produced in aikido practice. After the 1999 visit of an important Japanese master teacher, I took a leave of absence from the dojo. This is a formal status undertaken as a courtesy to the dojo so the administrators know you haven’t left permanently or for some physical or psychological injury. My need for creating a distanced perspective was becoming ever- more clear to me. The dojo is an on-going social entity and is therefore always in a state of flux. I sensed that the visit of this master teacher—an event of national significance—would change the status of the dojo and its chief instructors from an intimate local dojo to a nationally (and perhaps internationally) renowned school. About six months into my leave I went back to North Bay for some rank promotions tests but quickly realized even this would be disruptive to my writing. I had, I discovered, developed a picture of the dojo as it was during my active training. Each time I visited the dojo I felt the need to alter that picture to make it accord with the changing dynamics of North Bay. I was reminded of the relentlessness of culture and that I would never get the dissertation written if I tried to keep up with it. My leave of absence was my way of returning from the field, as has been the convention of anthropological fieldworkers. But being “back from the field” in this way

26 didn’t mean I could entirely escape it. I pass by the dojo several times a week on my way to the university and the friends I made there are taking tests, celebrating the holidays, and life events. More importantly, my husband is still deeply involved with the dojo and speaks the language of aikido in everyday conversations with me. His daily presence as a primary informant has had a tremendous impact on my interpretations of the field. His perspective is different from mine and he has provided a critical check on my own views and experiences. Our ordinary conversations often turned into analytical dialogues about the meaning of aikido. (Sometimes I even tape recorded them!) A simple question or comment could illuminate the some subtle aspect of the dojo. For example, one Saturday afternoon when he returned from a class I casually asked “What did you work on today?” In that naturalized moment I understood one of the linguistic strategies used to mark the practice as one in which mastery is always deferred (we don’t “do” things, we “work on” them) and through which our mutual positions as life-long learners is reproduced. Maintaining an anthropological voice in writing this dissertation has been a challenge. My advisors frequently had to remind me that I was speaking too often as an insider, as one who has been thoroughly socialized into dojo ways. Again, some physical distance helped me maintain an observational perspective as I wrote, although my thematic choices reveal my participatory interests. Fieldwork can be dangerous. In our graduate training we hear stories of accidents, illness, and even death. But fieldwork has the potential to be dangerous not only to our bodies but also to our ability to maintain observational distance, and to our personal, emotional state of being. My research subject—bodies in motion and the development of a sense of community— required deep participation. (See my Conclusion for a discussion of embodiment as a methodology for ethnographers.) As an ethnographer, it was not easy to remain

27 detached from the practice of aikido when it awoke such personal fears of safety and intimacy. If communities can pull you into their social ongoingness, sensual communities can pull you in body and soul.

Terminology I have never visited Japan nor do I speak Japanese. My knowledge of Japanese culture has come through my training in aikido and from textual sources only. My familiarity with the language is also derived from the dojo. North Bay has a set of vocabulary introduced through its American-born instructors. English terms are used more often than Japanese ones in certain cases: e.g., “rowing” rather than ame no toribune no gyo; “center” rather than hara, and “energy” rather than ki. Terms with more complex translations remain in Japanese: for instance, hanmi and seiza; but some English and Japanese terms are used interchangeably, e.g., “rolling practice” may also be called by its Japanese term, ukemi waza. Techniques are almost always called by their Japanese names (for example, kote gaeshi and irimi nage), although, because of the exploratory nature of aikido, some techniques have never acquired names in either language. Linda Holiday has visited Japan and is fluent in the language. General knowledge of the Japanese terms and language varies greatly between practitioners; some students go on to study Japanese and even travel to Japan as a result of their interests in aikido.

North Bay also has some unique uses of Japanese terms. The most frequent case is the term “misogi” (purification) to refer to general housekeeping in the dojo. As far as I know, this is Linda Holiday’s preference because it reminds dojo members of the link between personal and social training. Cleaning the dojo is part of the social but is also a practice of personal purification. I will provide definitions of terms as they are introduced, but have also included a glossary in Appendix A. Regarding spelling, pluralizations, and captializations, I follow the local

28 conventions. I add “s” to indicate multiples, e.g., two ukes rather than two uke. I capitalize “Sensei” as a formal title, i.e., Linda Sensei. (As Linda Holiday reminded me, “there are no capital letters in Japanese, so we’re on our own.”) I also follow the American surname convention, putting the family name second and the familiar name first: Morihei Ueshiba. How to address instructors in the dissertation was somewhat problematic for me. In the early years of the dojo, Linda and Glen (the senior instructors) refused to let people call them “Sensei.” Today, Linda lets people do it as a way of learning the tradition and of showing respect. It is optional at North Bay dojo to call her Sensei though in most other dojos it is a strict rule to call the teacher Sensei in conversation whether you are on the mat or off, and whether the instructor is present or not. This gets confusing when at a seminar lots of people are referring to different people as Sensei. Linda Holiday is the chief instructor and executive director of North Bay. In daily practice, students refer to her both directly and in conversation as “Linda”, a familiar and friendly form that represents the democratic spirit of this dojo. In other contexts, such as when visiting another dojo, especially one within North Bay’s immediate network, students may refer to her in a semi-formal manner—“Linda Sensei”—which maintains the familiar relationship with her while also distinguishing her from other sensei. “Sensei” alone is a formal reference for one’s dojo cho and is often used in more traditional settings both in direct address and in conversational references. “Holiday Sensei” is the traditional Japanese form and while it is used in reference to Linda in magazine articles, for instance, I don’t think I ever heard it as verbal reference. It also seems to be the more masculine usage. For example, I have heard Frank Doran called “Doran Sensei” but not “Frank Sensei.” At least within North Bay’s admittedly feminine network of dojo’s, we are more likely to hear “Mary Sensei”

29 or “Kimberley Sensei” than “Heiny Sensei” or “Richardson Sensei.” During Motomichi Anno Sensei’s visit, I also heard people fall into North Bay conventions by dropping the formal “Sensei,” and referring to him as “Anno.” This was clearly not intended to be an insult to him but rather a way of acknowledging a sense of kinship. In the context of this dissertation, I follow North Bay’s informal convention and generally refer to Linda Holiday Sensei as “Linda” and Glen Kimoto Sensei as “Glen”. I have used informants real names, except when they specifically indicated that they preferred a pseudonym or when the subject matter was delicate or generalized.

What I do and don’t do and organization of the dissertation This research requires attending to a wide range of theoretical and ethnographic subjects: body and embodiment, self and society, language and movement, Japanese and American cosmologies and practices. My expertise is not as wide-ranging as this and often I cannot fully elaborate the implications each of these theoretical perspectives indicate. However, I cannot avoid them either so I have done my best to address them as it seemed appropriate for understanding the practice of aikido in this dojo. This dissertation is not intended to be a comparative study of Japanese and American body cultures nor of the ways aikido is practiced in each nation, though some of that work is inevitable. But my primary interest is in exploring how a particular community sensibility is produced, experienced, maintained, or transformed through culturally- specific movements. The dissertation is divided into three parts. The first, “Histories and Descriptions” begins with a demographic profile of North Bay membership (Chapter 1). I then leap backwards in time to provide an historical background on Asian martial arts and their translocation to the U.S. as well as a narrative of the history of aikido in Japan and California (Chapter 2). This is followed by thick descriptions of North Bay’s

30 history, its physical environment and social organization (Chapter 3). Part II, “Theories of Body and Practice,” addresses the theoretical fields that inform my work and consists of two chapters: “The body and its senses: touching and feeling” (Chapter 4) and “Collective bodies and social change” (Chapter 5). Part III “The Sociosomatics of Connection,” is the heart of the dissertation. This section begins with a description of the content and rhythms of a typical class at North Bay (Chapter 6). This is followed by Chapter 7, “‘Grab my Wrist’: Somatic Aspects of Connection.” This chapter offers a movement description and analysis of aikido techniques, an analysis of the uke/nage physical and ethical relationship, and a discussion of how “ki” is conceptualized in Japan and at North Bay. The final chapter, “‘Aikido is a metaphor for life’: Sociosomatic Aspects of Connection,” explores the nature of community at North Bay and its relationship to the kinesthetics of training.

NOTES TO INTRODUCTION:

1 Students also find support for their struggles through North Bay’s training philosophies and through sharing their experiences with one another. Sometimes, however, these psychological realizations are so overwhelming that people leave the practice.

2 I use the term “American” cautiously. When Hervé Varenne went looking for an “America” to study, he located it in a small town in the Midwest. Likewise, the authors in Distant Mirrors generally reflect only upon white, middle-class Americans and have thus reified that group as “American.” F. Errington writes that the people of Rock Creek, Montana “explicitly believe (as do rural Americans elsewhere) that they embody the American way of life” (Errington 1990: 224-5, my italics). Although I am also writing about a white, middle class group of Americans, I recognize that any notion of “America” must be far more inclusive.

3 Thanks to Dan Linger for this insight.

4 It is interesting to note that today most of the “fantastic” martial skills employed by American film heros are derived from Asian martial arts.

5 Oprah Winfrey and several of her talk show guests have discussed the absence of social connections as a primary cause of school violence, teenage sexual promiscuity, and academic and industrial “cheating.” On one of these programs Rabbi Irwin Kula suggested an explanation for the development of these divisive phenomena: When your world, he said, your nation, your teachers, parents, co-workers, and bosses, become “pure abstractions” then there is no reason for you to be connected because you have no

31 personal stakes in maintaining reciprocal relationships with the people or institutions. And, he further suggests, if disenfranchisement is causing the abstraction of people and institutions, then intimacy might be one of its cures Rabbi Kula was a guest on the Oprah Winfrey show, March 1, 2000

6 It is my hope that bodynotes will add another layer to our abilities to write (or otherwise perform) ethnographies which capture more fully our field encounters.

7 It should be noted as well that, like the classical anthropologist, I was an outsider to aikido culture only beginning to be initiated into its practices and worldview. As a novitiate student of aikido, I have relied on the experiences of senior aikido informants for their deeper and broader perspectives.

8 Every few years around April 1st (an American holiday known as “April Fool’s Day” on which people traditionally played practical jokes on one another) North Bay Aikido holds a night of entertainment called “Aiki Follies.” Entertainment ranges from serious performances of song and poetry, to humorous skits spoofing aikido practice. (See Kondo 1987 for her description of the skits performed at the conclusion of a Japanese ethics retreat.) In 1999, I decided to sing...a thing I rarely do because of my, well, my inability to carry a tune. But I convinced two close friends to act as my backup singers and dancers (the Aiki Pips) so I wouldn’t look ridiculous alone. The lyrics I wrote were based on a revision of “Makin’ Whoopee” by folklorist Holly Tannen. Her version was about a folklorist who goes native, to the chagrin of her professors. See Appendix A for lyrics.

32 PART I. HISTORY AND DESCRIPTION OF NORTH BAY AIKIDO DOJO

CHAPTER 1. DEMOGRAPHIC PROFILE OF NORTH BAY MEMBERSHIP

Although aikido is considered by many to be one of the most esoteric martial arts, the people who practice it are not demographically exceptional. At North Bay, the median demograhic are, like me, white, middle-aged, middle-class Americans living ordinary lives. On some levels, North Bay aikidoists represent mainstream and historically American trends (the quest to resolve the conflict between individual and community or the drive to discover and enhance one’s inner self are examples). On other levels, they represent the specific characteristics of this region and of this generation and those that follow: they are politically liberal, environmentally conscious, and spiritually inventive. They make no claims to having secretive or mysterious skills (what Donohue calls “martial magic” typified by the ninja (Donohue 1994: 93)), nor are they seeking them. If aikido is “magical” to them it is so because it is anatomically effective and socially and psychologically transformative. If it is esoteric, it is because of its depth as an art that can never be mastered but can be endlessly explored. In January 1998, I administered a survey to North Bay Aikido members. (See Appendix D for a copy of the survey.) The survey was not comprehensive but geared primarily to my research interests, though I hoped it would also benefit North Bay by providing a demographic profile of its membership. I mailed out 133 surveys with names and addresses from the January 1998 roster of active members and provided extra surveys for pick-up at the dojo. I received sixty responses (45 percent) and removed two from the report because the respondents were below majority age. I supplied the dojo with a report summarizing the findings. Although the language of the following section is (moderately) statistical, I think in reading through it the reader will

33 gain a generalized sense of the character of these aikidoists and the nature of their community.

Ethnicity, age, marital status Based on the survey statistics, North Bay members are primarily white (there were only six non-white respondents: Caucasian-Arab, Filipino-Thai-American, Japanese- American, Jewish, Mexican-American, and Native American-European. I include the Jewish response in non-Caucasian races because of the specificity of the answer and in recognition of the debates surrounding the racial identification of Jews). Ages range from 19-57 and are distributed fairly evenly across this range (though this survey leaves out a young student body of around one hundred), with the average age at 36.6); and middle income with a fairly high level of education (all respondents had some college education and 62 percent hold college and post-graduate degrees). The vast majority of respondents (43 of 47 responses) are from “white ethnic” backgrounds, their ancestry representing all regions of Europe, but with English, Irish, German, French, Italian, and Scottish leading the pack. Others recognize their whiteness and their mixed heritage as “mongrel” and “gringo.” One wrote “Anglo-Californian.” Jewish and Catholic were both listed as ethnicities. There were in addition four non-European responses (Middle Eastern/Saudi; Native American, Chicano, and Arab) and 11 non-respondents. Gender is fairly well balanced within the responding group (43 percent female; 52 percent male), as it is on the current roster (dated 6-22-99) which shows the female students comprising 42 percent of the active membership. The majority of males are heterosexual (29 out of 30) with one bisexual. Seventeen (17) of the 25 females are heterosexual with 5 lesbian and 3 bisexual. Three heterosexuals did not specify a gender. Members are single (41 percent of respondents) as well as committed to long- term relationships (46 percent). They are employed as teachers, students and school

34 administrators; graphic designers and craft workers; health care workers; computer programmers and engineers; police officer, social worker, photography, self-defense and physical education instructors, carpenter, firefighter, statistician, executive coach, human resources, production coordinator, and mothers.

Religion and spirituality In keeping with the general demographics of the city of Santa Cruz, North Bay’s members are politically and spiritually liberal. Of the 54 answers to this question, 29 included their religious upbringing: 11 were raised Catholic, 9 were raised in Protestant homes (Congregationalist, Episcopalian, etc.), 3 were raised Jewish, 2 Muslim, and 4 had no religious training in their natal homes. Aikido was listed in 8 responses as a primary or partial element in their spiritual life: “North Bay Aikido is my ‘church’” wrote one. Buddhism (Zen and Tibetan) and Taoism top the list of current practices (14). Pagan, witchcraft, magic, Unitarian, nature worship, Native American, Shinto, atheist, agnostic, “free spirit,” “Zen eclectic,” and Quaker were listed by a total of 19 respondents. “Spiritual yes, religious no,” as one respondent wrote, is a succinct summation of North Bay’s general attitude towards this subject. Only 9 survey respondents gave unambiguous answers concerning their religious/spiritual practice: Buddhists (4),

Protestant/Unitarian, Pagans (2), Sufi, and Taoist. Note that none of these are mainstream American religions. Indeed, one answer (Pagan) may or may not refer to a specific practice as in contemporary Neo-paganism, but may rather indicate the absence of religiosity as in the older use of the term. The remaining 45 answers reflect either a lack of interest or an ambivalence towards the subject. Many answered “none,” agnostic, atheist, non-affiliated, or non-affiliated but “dabbling” in Feminist Spirituality, Shinto, Buddhism, Taoism, Unitarianism or Zen. Others listed in a kind of recipe-style

35 their non-specific spiritual ethics or sentiments (meditation, the golden rule); marked their ambivalence with question marks (“Aikido?”), quotation marks (“‘Zen eclectic’”), or by the use of qualifying language (“could loosely be called,” “tendencies,” or “presently practicing”). These indicate that people’s spiritual practices are personal, temporal, and indeterminate. Contemporary mercurial relations with organized and formal religions can be understood as the product of Protestant rationalization and personalization of spiritual life. Writes one historian of Protestantism, In the quest for a religious life that works, they unhesitatingly change churches and denominations, shedding the spiritual truths of yesterday as if they were just another bad investment or failed love-affair. No other modern religious communion is marked by such variety and mobility. (Ozment 1993: xiii cited in Mellor and Shilling 122) The following answers from the survey are typical: “Aikido; non-denominational, but with definite Buddhist tendencies, Taoist influence, a dash of Shinto. Meditation, prayer, practice (training), stick work, singing, dojo.”

“As a child, both parents basically ignored all aspects of spirituality—As an adult, I have a difficult time believing in a god, or ‘higher’ power— have been exploring Buddhism but am having difficulty establishing a daily practice—also dabbled in feminist spirituality (witchcraft) several years ago.”

“Not affiliated with any organized religion. I believe in, and practice, the golden rule. I have high moral standards and believe that religion is a very personal thing.”

“I was raised by devout Catholics but have not been associated with any religious organization for over twenty years. Presently agnostic.”

“Raised Muslim. Studied Christian Science in high school. Currently research and read about Islam, Christianity and Zen Buddhism”

“Raised Presbyterian, currently outside of defined affiliation”

“Raised Protestant Congregationalist. Not active. Favor Unitarian Universalist. Aikido is my present spiritual practice”

36 Politics It is clear from the statistics that the respondents are politically Left and Lefter—27 democrats, 11 independents, 18 Other (10 Green Party; 2 anarchist; 1 each Liberal, Libertarian, and Peace and Freedom) and no Republicans—and are aware of and concerned with political and social issues. With strong leanings toward liberal and progressive politics, surprisingly few are directly involved in political action, though the majority (50 out of 58) vote in local and national elections. A few send letters to politicians, work as activists in local issues, or have participated in protests and civil disobedience. One feminist defined herself as an “activist” while another doesn’t “have much faith in politics as a method of change” and is not hopeful about the political systems in this country. But given the kinds of political affiliations and identities respondents list (Green, Feminist, Libertarian, Environmentalist, for examples), I suspect this population seeks change in arenas outside of mainstream politics. It would have been useful, therefore, to ask them whether they think their politics are separate from their spiritual activities, their employment, or from their practice of aikido.

Rank and training habits The survey respondents include 18 yudansha (black belt ranks) and 36 mudansha (lower than black belt). This is a fair sampling of North Bay’s ranks, which by winter of 1999 was comprised of 135 active members with total of 55 yudansha (nearly 41 percent of the total number of members) and 71 mudansha.1 Number of years in training for survey respondents ranges from two months to twenty-eight years, with the majority training between 3-10 years (a total of 30 respondents). Of the total respondents, 21 have never trained in other dojos. The rest have trained at a range of dojos around the country (including New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, Florida, Washington DC, and southern California) but especially in the San Francisco

37 Bay area and Seattle, WA. The most common dojos listed are Heart of the Mission (San Francisco), Pajaro Valley Aikido (Watsonville), Aikido West (Redwood City), UCSC, San Jose, and Two Cranes and Emerald City in Seattle, WA. Only 14 said they have not attended workshops in the past year: 28 attended seminars at North Bay and 11 had attended the Santa Cruz Aikido Summer Retreat. Most common sites for seminars and workshops, in addition to North Bay, were Aikido West, Seattle dojos, Mt. Tamalpais’ winter camp at Mt. Madonna, and Boulder ’s summer camp. Senseis Heiny, Kato, Saotome, and Ikeda are listed most often as workshop leaders. Of the 25 who have taught aikido, 6 taught beginner classes; 7 taught or assisted in children or teen classes; 8 taught general classes; and 8 taught as substitutes. All but one shodan had taught either general or beginner classes; all nidan teach general classes on a regular basis.

Other martial arts and movement practices Of the 32 respondents who have trained previously in another martial art, 16 (one half) have been involved in more than one other martial art. Commitment to these practices range from “dabbling” for a few months or a year to long-term serious study. Most popular arts are karate (13); tai chi (9); tae kwan do (8); and (5). Other arts include kickboxing, escrima, taijutso, jukido, chon nhu, kung fu, tang su do, moo do kwan, and iaido. Included also are four non-Asian martial practices: wrestling, fencing, women’s self-defense, and heavy combat re-enactment in Society for Creative Anachronism. Of the 11 women who have studied other martial arts 5 had studied tai chi, 3 karate, 2 judo, and 2 tae kwan do. Of the 19 men, 3 had studied tai chi, 10 karate, 4 judo, and 5 tae kwan do. (Three respondents did not provide gender information and were therefore eliminated from the gender breakdown.) Only 5 respondents currently train in other

38 martial arts: heavy combat re-enactment in Society for Creative Anachronism, women’s self-defense, daito ryu aikijutsu and shorin ryu karate, iaido and kenjutsu, and “grandparenting.” Only 5 (one female and 4 males) said they had not participated in other structured systems of movement before aikido. Among the rest, all manner of recreational sport and ball games were represented, as were ballet, modern, ballroom and folk dance and several health and exercise regimens (yoga, aerobics, tai chi, Mind- Body Centering, and Feldenkrais Awareness through Movement). (Although the number of respondents—4—who listed Feldenkrais may seem small, given the unusualness of the practice, it might be accounted for by assuming they had taken the series of Feldenkrais classes taught through North Bay in 1994 by one of its members.) Many respondents indicated that their past activities took place in childhood (7 females and 2 males) or in high school (6 females and 15 males). Nearly half of the women studied dance at some point in their lives (12 out of 25) while only a fraction of men did (5 out of 30). Men are more likely to have been engaged in competitive sports (baskeball, football, baseball, ultimate frisbee, wrestling, track) while women tend to have been involved in non-competitive activities (dance, yoga, aerobics). These are only tendencies, however, since 13 women also listed basketball, track, swimming, tennis, volleyball and soccer and 12 men listed skiing, surfing, dance, and yoga. Note that it was not always possible to tell when these activities were competitive or not: gymnastics, skiing, swimming, and cycling, for example may or may not be performed as competitive sports. Even aerobics is now sometimes placed in competitive arenas, though I am assuming this was not the case for any survey respondents. In any case, since my question did not specify competitive versus non-competitive structured movement systems, I am making assumptions based on my knowledge of how these

39 activities are normally constructed in this society and on my personal knowledge of most of the survey respondents. Thirty-four respondents do not currently participate in other physical activities outside of aikido. Of the 24 who do, 7 currently practice yoga, 4 Feldenkrais, 4 bicycling, and the rest engage in a variety of recreational activities including skate and snowboarding, skiing, surfing, rock climbing, basketball, volleyball, softball, soccer, ultimate frisbee, swimming, walking, running, weight training, golf, horseback riding, bellydancing, and acting.

Discovering aikido and why they stay The majority (24) heard about aikido through friends, partners, or co-workers. Others were inspired to begin training after watching a demonstration or class (12) or were advised to look into aikido by a physician, therapist, or bodyworker (7). Some sought out aikido because they were interested in training in a martial art (6), saw an ad or poster (3), or found it listed in a university course catalogue (3). Survey participants were drawn to aikido by the integrity of the practice, the dojo, and other practitioners (5); by its amalgamation of spirituality, physicality, and mindfulness (7); and by its philosophy of non-violent conflict resolution and self- defense (13). Seven were “hooked” upon their first class and 8 indicated an immediate, long-term affinity (“I never looked back,” and “I’ve been training ever since”). Many were inspired by multiple experiences with aikido and aikidoists: demonstrations, instructors, books, friends or colleagues. A selection of typical responses follows: “I had wanted to study martial arts in high school but I had to look after my brother. When I went to UCSC, I saw aikido offered and went to the beginning class. My first impression was Jerilyn Munyon throwing Takashi Tamasu2 halfway across the dojo. After that I was hooked.”

“After experiencing a significant amount of abuse and harassment as a child and teenager I became interested in effective yet nonviolent self-

40 defense. A friend who had just joined a beginning class told me about the principles of aikido. I joined and got hooked.”

“I went to watch a class at Aikido West. I came back, probably the next day, and bought a gi and joined the dojo”

“I had done some Karate in college. In my early 30’s graduated (again) from school and wanted to go back to doing a martial art. I had been hearing stories about Aikido for years. Saw a flier at Stanford Hospital (I worked there) and read Aikido and the Dynamic Sphere. I was intrigued, so went to see a class. It was taught by Sensei Frank Doran. And he REALLY WAS throwing people without touching them. I was hooked. Trained with him for 15 years.”

“A friend (ex-boyfriend) had studied it—he showed me a few moves and told me about the philosophy of getting out of the way, using the opponent’s energy, etc., and after we broke up I came and signed up for a class at NBA.”

“I saw an NBA demo at the Japanese Cultural Fair in 1995. I decided that it looked fascinating and enrolled in the next beginner class at NBA.”

“I was interested in studying a form of self defense that is both elegant and beautiful. I first considered Tai Chi but when I saw Aikido I knew I wanted to practice it.”

“It attracted me at first as an alternative to re-joining a gym for exercise, and because yoga wasn’t vigorous enough. I knew people who trained in Aikido so I watched a beginning class session and it looked fun and challenging. I also was attracted or encouraged by the range of people training—all body types and a good balance of men and women. The dojo had an inviting atmosphere too—a good space both physically and socially.”

“Used to train in Tae Kwon Do—Quit because I didn’t like the increasingly macho attitude—hadn’t trained for almost 2 years and missed the structured discipline in my life. Saw an ad in Good Times and went to watch a class. Signed up and haven’t looked back since.”

“Referred to Aikido by Hellerwork body work. Looking for self- discovery process.”

“I was on the UCSC campus, rehearsing a dance piece and next door there was an aikido class. I remember watching the class and thinking

41 ‘That’s what I’m going to do next quarter.’ I was at the end of my studies. I had plans to move away from SC, travel and yet all those plans just vanished after taking my first class. I remember thinking after my first class, ‘Oh, I’m going to stay in one place for awhile and train.’ A month later I began training daily at NBA.”

“By the principle of nonviolence: I was training in Tae Kwan Do and really disliked the sparring. I accidentally broke my partner’s nose and scored the point. I never went back. Next day, I discovered aikido class at the university and never stopped training since.”

“I was in therapy for childhood abuse and my counselor suggested that Aikido would be a great way to become more connected with my body, so I tried it. Within the first week I was hooked!” Respondents enjoy learning to find and maintain center and balance; developing a sensitivity to ‘energy’; the practice of presence in the moment; lessons in conflict resolution that can be applied in daily life; the people and community, connection with others, and opportunities for friendship; development of self, body, and spirit; the movement itself and its meditative, spiraling, and dance-like qualities. Again, respondent’s own words tell the story better than I: “I love the (occasional) thrill of “getting it”—when a technique works and uke just flies. I also love the feeling of connection with my partner, the exercise and feeling of using my body, and the discipline and ritual of taking class regularly.”

“I love that it engages both my physical and my emotional self. It is both a celebration and a practicing of some of my strongest beliefs: strength of the individual coming from the safety and strength of all, power in economy, respect for the strength of one another, learning the proper, healthy use of strength and power. I also love its dance-like beauty and grace, and its respect for tradition (the better aspects, that is!).”

“The positive atmosphere that encourages self-improvement, provides a true mirror for self reflection—whatever issues you face in life will eventually surface on the mat. Provides structure for working with these issues. Enjoy the feeling of positive connection with partners and the joyful exuberance of energetic training in all of its varied meanings.”

42 “I enjoy the interaction with other people. Harmonizing with their energy movement, their ‘way of being’ with my current ‘way of being’—and expressing myself artistically through this movement.”

On books and videos as learning tools Only 6 of the 55 respondents said that they had never read anything about aikido. They read introductory texts; histories of martial arts and biographies of Osensei; and books that provide philosophical insight. Many readers find inspiration in stories of conflict resolution and applications of aikido to daily life and find that stories of aikido masters deepen their understanding of aikido. Only one respondent included an aikido web site in the answer. Although respondents find reading helpful in providing historical, spiritual, and philosophical context for their practice (especially as beginner students), many (13) also commented that “movements and techniques cannot be learned from books” because aikido is and should be experiential learning. “Reading about Aikido is a two-edged sword. I think it is very helpful to read about the art. I also think it’s important to mostly DO the art. To paraphrase the physician Osler: Studying Aikido without reading about it is like going to sea without a chart. Reading about Aikido without doing it is like not going to sea at all. I have spent perhaps too much time in school; it is easy for me to build conceptual worlds. Conceptual worlds do not necessarily have any relationship to reality. The DOING of Aikido is very real. So, it is good to read about Aikido but better to mostly train.”

Many have found watching videotapes of aikido demonstrations and instruction useful (although at the time of the survey the video library at North Bay was out of service, which may account for the numbers of “no” responses (15)). Of the 55 positive answers, only three commented that they did not find viewing videos at all useful. The rest find videos helpful in remembering techniques, terminology, the particularities of a workshop, and stylistic variety. Many find inspiration from watching videos of Osensei, Terry Dobson, Mary Heiny, Ikeda, Kato or Mitsugi Saotome in particular before exams

43 or when they are not able to train due to time or health constraints. Watching tapes of North Bay shodan exams helps respondents prepare for their own exams and to remember “the fact that everyone goes through the same stages of practice.” Many commented on the usefulness of videotapes in clarifying techniques and basic principles and as an aid in visualizing desired qualities such as fluidity, effortlessness, or blending with the attacker. Several also qualified their comments by stating that videos cannot replace direct experience: “There really are “Aikido Bunnies”, you know. (No sexism intended. Most flagrant example I knew was male.) Like Ski bunnies, or groupies. They’ve watched it, and read about it, and talked about it endlessly. And they don’t “get it” because they don’t DO it. Not that there is anything wrong with studying Aikido like “Art History.” But the knowledge you acquire is different than what you learn via sweat. I would rather do aikido with someone who is physically inept than talk about it with someone who has read a lot and has never done it.”

Comments on the particular nature of North Bay The dojo was praised for offering a variety of teachers, the support and patience of training partners and teachers; the loving and supportive community spirit; and the gender balance of membership. Respondents identified three common areas that they viewed as problematic: the development of social cliques and subgroups which exclude general membership; the uneven distribution of misogi; and the increasing habit of talking during training. Suggestions for improvement include longer beginner and intermediate classes; mentoring and tracking of students as they make the difficult transition from beginner to general classes; the addition of men’s and advanced classes as well as sitting meditation; more active and formalized teacher training3; better internal communication concerning community building, etiquette, and political infrastructures. Several suggested that an idea/student feedback box might help satisfy some of these recommendations.

44 CHAPTER 2. HISTORIES: ASIAN MARTIAL ARTS AND AIKIDO

Introduction The following history of North Bay Aikido is intended to provide an historical context as well as to show how that history evokes and explains the embodied practice itself. A number of local and national, American and Japanese histories converge in the practice of aikido at North Bay Aikido dojo. These include histories of Asian fighting arts and their transformation into practices of self-cultivation; the development of Asian martial arts in the United States; the psychosocial techniques of the “human potential movement” which emerged in the 1960s; the history of these interests in and around Santa Cruz, California; the history of the University of California, Santa Cruz; and of course, the histories of aikido — and North Bay in particular — in relation to these other histories. These historical phenomena each contribute to the particular style of aikido produced in this school, a style I characterize as spiritual and eminently social. In this chapter, I will explore influential aspects of these histories in order to situate North Bay both historically and culturally and to highlight the origins of its idiosyncrasies. In both oral and literary histories of Asian martial arts, one encounters a synchretic mix of facts, legends, and mysteries that are difficult to sort out. In 1996, I began my aikido training with what I consider the same level of martial arts knowledge as the average American. Aside from a brief encounter with Tai Chi in the early 1980s, most of my information came from popular sources: film and television. Therefore, the narrative I have produced is one that stems from my own questions about Asian martial art histories as well as my desire to explain North Bay Aikido.

45 A Narrative of Asian Martial Arts History Tracing the history of Asian martial arts is a daunting task. As one historian suggests, to produce a thorough historical analysis one would need to “be familiar with” a millennium of Chinese, Korean, Japanese, and Okinawan history, religion, folklore, and military practices (Nelson vii: 1989). This narrative, then, is partial at best. It would seem reasonable to expect that combat techniques would have been developed by all classes of men in warring locations at any point in history. It also seems likely that martial arts have always been syncretic in nature (Donohue 1994: 43).4 Indeed, it is known that all the major martial arts from Asia with identifiable histories (kung fu and tai chi from China, tae kwan do from Korea, and karate from Okinawa) had indigeneous predecessors that syncretized with immigrating forms and philosophies. Any attempt to draw a simple linear history of any martial art or of pinpointing one single founder would deny a complex of interrelationships and influences. Still, one historian suggests that the major philosophical and technical traditions of Asian martial arts as they are known to us today derive from India first and China second. Certainly the joining of martial with philosophical systems distinguishes Asian martial arts from others and it is likely that China, Japan, Okinawa, and Korea are the genesis of most currently popular arts.5 In my version of this history, I am attempting to make some general statements about the development of Asian martial practices and philosophies which will help contextualize current practices as well as sort out some of the myths current in U.S. popular media. Since my concern is with a Japanese martial art, I will limit this discussion to those social and historical influences having relevance to Aikido. What follows is an outline of what seems to be the generally accepted history of Asian martial arts systems. It is derived from several written sources (Haines 1988; Singer 1989; Donohue 1994; Wong 1978; Corcoran and Farkas 1988; Friday 1998) as well as a video

46 documentary on these systems (1998). As legend and history have it, Zen master and Buddhist monk Bodhidharma traveled from India to China sometime in the 6th century, found his way to the Shaolin Temple and Monastery in Honan Province and began teaching the monks a form of Zen meditation and breathing, as well as an exercise system known as “Eighteen Hands of the Lo-Han.” Although some argue that martial arts systems in China predate this moment (that the monks must have had methods of defending their temple), most agree that the Shaolin art of ch’uan fa originated in these exercises. The “Way of the Fist” (ch’uan fa ) syncretized with indigenous martial systems and philosophies evolving into what is presently known as kung fu.6 Ancient histories and secretive family transmissions of martial techniques are often attributed to martial arts. In China, Okinawa, and Japan secret societies existed by tradition and in response to political forces. Changes in society and in politics produced changes in martial techniques. As different political parties imposed their order, it was frequently the case that weapons were confiscated and martial practices outlawed, forcing practitioners into secrecy. State-controlled use of “coercive force and the arsenals that go with this right, could have tended to encourage the creation of unarmed systems of fighting to be employed by common people” (Donohue 1994: 35). In addition to unarmed techniques, availability and kinds of weapons under state forces effected hand-to-hand combat styles. For instance, in 1372 the island of Okinawa was officially recognized by China, who sent Chinese artisans and crafts people to Okinawa as a gift. Among these were masters of the Chinese fighting system ch’uan fa. Later, during Japan’s occupation of Okinawa in the 1600s, Okinawan peasants took their martial system underground and began developing hand and foot techniques as well as utilizing farm equipment as weapons (e.g., the tonfa was originally a rice-grinding

47 implement and the kama a rice harvesting sickle). Under these conditions, “te” (a combination of an indigenous art called tode and the Chinese boxing art ch’uan fa) evolved and modern-day forms of karate began their development. Non-military populations, such as the Shaolin Monks or Okinawan peasants, were often the ones to develop these systems of defense. The well-known Japanese samurai class was an exception. For nearly eight centuries, Japan engaged in “almost constant domestic wars” during which the bushi (the professional warrior class which included Samurai—warriors working for imperial courts, and Ronin—warriors unattached to any particular master) founded and developed martial traditions (ryu) “for the purpose of formalizing and perpetuating practical systems of combat” (Draeger 1973: 13).7 In the 16th century, the bushi adopted Esoteric and Zen Buddhist methods of self-cultivation (meditation, poetry, and scholarship, for example) in order to increase their martial effectiveness. By achieving a state of mushin, no-mind through these methods, the warrior is not fixated on the opponent; does not have to make conscious decisions about how to respond to an attack; and is not overwhelmed by fear or anger. “In combat,” writes Friday, “the fear of injury or death poses a severe handicap. Fear distracts, destroying concentration, reactions and timing” (Friday 1998: 15). By maintaining focus on the moment and deploying martial techniques “without conscious effort” (Yuasa 1993: 32), a warrior increases his chances of surviving. “True victory is self victory” writes Morihei Ueshiba. The Samurai were thus developing a mind (through artistic and intellectual traditions) in complete harmony with the body (as practiced through practical combat techniques or bujutsu). During the seventeenth century, “war weariness” (Donohue 1994: 13), the introduction of firearms into war (67), and a trend toward peaceful arts and etiquette

48 created conditions in which the warrior class and its arts were threatened with obsolescence. The Meiji Restoration in 1868 brought an end to the warrior class as the new government stripped the samurai of their military dominance and of the rest of their “badges and privileges of status” (Friday 1998: 5). Once their combat effectiveness was diminished (by modern technologies of war), and the special status of their practitioners eliminated, Japanese martial arts, now considered an important tradition, had to be preserved by other means and through different classes of people. The concept of “michi” or “do” as a practical path to enlightenment was already present in medieval Japanese society. Buddhism, Taoism, and Confucianism had infused dance, drama, calligraphy, poetry, the tea ceremony, flower arranging, and the martial arts with this philosophy. Martial artists, no longer useful as military personnel, preserved their art by shifting the emphasis to its spiritual and ethical potentials.

Asian Martial Arts in the USA Asian martial practices probably first arrived on the continental U.S. in the 1840s as Chinese laborers immigrated to California to work in mining towns and later on the railroads. These early kung fu schools in the U.S. were, of necessity, secretive (as were many Asian immigrant practices) and did not open their doors to non-Chinese until the 1960s. Asian martial arts really became established in the U.S. only after World War II.

During the Allied Forces occupation of Japan, the practice and teaching of all martial arts was banned.8 When the ban was lifted in 1947, American servicemen began training in karate, judo, and aikido and brought these martial arts back to the U.S. By 1951, Japanese martial arts training was being instituted in many U.S. military services. In terms of popularity, karate, judo9, and later kung fu appealed to American popular culture perhaps because of their willingness to become competitive sport, and through their representations in cinema.

49 By 1964, karate instruction in the West underwent a “virtual explosion” (Corcoran and Farkas 1988: 289). Superstars began emerging from tournament competitions, especially as Americans began winning international titles, such as two- time International Karate Champion Chuck Norris. Norris went on to converte his karate skills into a successful career in film and television. There have been several waves of popularity of martial arts in the U.S. since the 1950s, each tied to mass media depictions of these eastern traditions. Karate, judo, and kung fu began to appear in American movies in short but high-action sequences as early as 1921, although the “modern era” of martial arts in the media began after World War II, when James Cagney introduced judo to the general movie audience (Corcoran and Farkas 1988). What has become known as “the Bruce Lee era” began in the late 1960s beginning with Lee’s appearance as Kato in the television series Green Hornet (in 1966). As its popularity grew, television became the testing ground for plots that featured martial artists. The popularity of the television series Kung Fu (1972-1975) (which was to star Bruce Lee until the producers backed down, apparently on the grounds of race, and hired David Carradine) paved the way for the world-wide release of Lee’s Hong Kong-made films. In 1972 an independent film became the first U.S. feature film spotlighting a martial artist. Billy Jack featured Tom Laughlin as a counter- cultural hero of the underclasses and introduced hapkido (a Korean form) to American audiences. Hollywood began to see “pure martial arts movies as a new and potent film genre” (Corcoran and Farkas 1988: 289). By the mid 1970s, the Bruce Lee era began to fade and the American public lost interest in the fighting arts in sport and movies. The highly successful film Karate Kid (1984), however, brought the philosophical aspects of the martial arts to American films and produced an influx of children into karate dojos all across the country. Historians Corcoran and Farkas suggest further that the

50 enormous success of NBC’s miniseries Shogun may have accounted for the “new wave of interest by the American public in learning the ‘samurai arts’” (285). Today, Asian martial arts—or arts with their origins in Asia—are standard fare in television, movies, and even cartoons. They have become integrated into the American landscape. When American’s refer to the “martial arts” they rarely include the ancient combat arts of Europe (e.g., wrestling, fencing, boxing) (though as the martial arts explosion continues its momentum, this may already be changing) nor any of the modern technologies of war included. Asian martial arts have in common a history in face-to-face armed and unarmed combat techniques. Today they rarely are used in such capacity except in artificially created arenas of competition. What we see in a Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan movie are not effective combat techniques but choreographic pieces intended to display the artistry and skill of the featured performer as well as to drive the emotional response of the audience. I liken them to many of the musical theater shows of the 1950s in which the story is merely a frame in which to situate the artistry of the dancers and singers. Because the term “martial arts” in the U.S. commonly calls up images of film heros Chuck Norris or Jackie Chan, the term obfuscates the equally important spiritual roots of aikido, as well as the powerful sociological and psychological effects of the practice. Hence the term “martial art” must be understood as a term which marks a particular history but which explains little about today’s practices in the United States. Today, the martial arts are sites in which people symbolically enact combative situations (Donohue 1994: 12) and social conflict, and where extremes of emotion and physical sensation may be experienced in contained and relatively safe contexts.

51 A Narrative of Aikido History and Its Founder, Morihei Ueshiba Osensei

“I didn’t create Aikido. Aiki is the Way of Kami. It is to be a part of the laws of the universe. It is the source of the principles of life. The history of Aikido begins with the origin of the universe” — Morihei Ueshiba

Aikido was developed by Morihei Ueshiba (1883-1969) who, in keeping with a Japanese penchant for syncretism, combined several traditional armed and unarmed Japanese martial techniques with a variety of Japanese ethical and spiritual systems. Of primary influence were the martial system Daito-ryu aiki-jutsu and the messianic Shinto sect Omoto-kyo. As the above quote suggests, Ueshiba was a highly religious man who came to believe that budo was an expression of universal, natural forces of harmony (aiki). Ueshiba’s biography reads like the sacred history of a mythical hero, filled with stories of superhuman spiritual and physical abilities. From his childhood until his death, the founder of aikido appears to have been driven to expand the limits of human potential. Born in 1883 in the city of Tanabe, located in a region of Japan with many important Buddhist and Shinto sites, Ueshiba showed signs of his interests in religious and scientific esoterica and with trials of the flesh at a very young age. He began training in sumo (to overcome his diminutive size) and in Buddhist ritual and meditation techniques as a boy. In his early twenties, as he prepared to enter military service, Ueshiba had “the first of what was to be a long series of mystical experiences” during a Shingon Buddhist ceremony (he experienced the presence of a guardian spirit) (Stevens 1997: 9). He is also said to have studied with or been inspired by Kumagusu Minakata, a social activist and environmentalist, and eventually became an adherent of Omoto, which I will discuss momentarily. Just as his spiritual training was eclectic, so too was his martial art training. In addition to studying at several jujutsu schools as a youth, in

52 1908 he received a teaching license in Goto-ha Yagyu Ryu Jujutsu, a classical martial art using sword and staff. It is also believed that he studied judo briefly at some point. In his thirties, while homesteading with his family in Hokkaido (where he displayed many Paul Bunyan-like feats, such as uprooting tree stumps with his bare hands), Ueshiba met and became a student of Sokaku Takeda, grand master of Daito Ryu Aiki Jujutsu. Daito Ryu Jujutsu dates from the 11th or 12th century and was developed by Japan’s most elite samurai warriors from the Aizu region. Passed down for generations as a secret tradition of the Takeda family, Sokaku Takeda (1859-1943) innovated the form by including concepts of “aiki” from his study of swordsmanship (thus changing the name to Daito Ryu Aiki Jujutsu). Ueshiba began his studies with Takeda in 1915, received a teaching certificate in 1922, and, although Ueshiba began developing his own budo, maintained a respectful relationship with him until Takeda’s death in 1943. In 1919, learning that his father was critically ill, Ueshiba and his family left Hokkaido, bestowing all his property to Takeda. On route to Tanabe, Ueshiba detoured to Ayabe in order to pray at the religious headquarters of Omoto-kyo. Omoto-kyo was one of Japan’s “New Religions” and was just entering its “Golden Age” with several million members (Stevens 1997: 32) when Ueshiba encountered its charismatic leader, Deguchi Onisaburo (1871-1948). Hundreds of these “New Religions” arose in Japan following the Meiji Restoration of 1869 when “State Shinto” became the official religion of Japan. State Shinto proclaimed the emperor as the imperial descendant of the Supreme Being, Amaterasu Omikami, and sought to create a homogenous, capitalistic society. The New Religions “were highly eclectic revival movements of archaic indigenous folk cults, mixed with Shinto, Buddhist and Christian elements, developed under the pressure of intolerable anxieties and the hardship and misery that accompanied the change from an agricultural and feudal society to an industrialized and urban one” (Franck 1975 :10).

53 Omoto-kyo was co-founded by Nao Deguchi, an impoverished and uneducated peasant woman who transcribed the words of the kami or spirit-deity Ushitora no Konjin as he spoke through her, and by shaman and artist Onisaburo Deguchi, her son-in-law. In addition to challenging the spiritual leadership of Japan, Nao Deguchi’s writings were highly critical of the government, predicting its downfall and Omoto’s ascendancy. Although folk Shinto is polytheistic (with 8 million kami), Omoto claims to be monotheistic in that they recognize a single supreme being, the “archaic folk-god” Ushitora no Konjin, even while they acknowledge the lesser spirits. Such a claim, however, demoted both the state-sanctioned god, Amaterasu, and consequently her earthly descendants and their “imperial authority” (33). For this and many other reasons, Omoto, like many of the New Religions of the period, was considered a threat to the state despite Omoto’s desires to promote universal brotherhood and world peace. During Ueshiba’s most direct involvement with it, Omoto endured state-sponsored oppression in which its founder and members were arrested and its properties destroyed. In 1920, Ueshiba moved his family to the Omoto compound in Ayabe. Many of the spiritual and practical developments of aikido can be traced to his study of this religion. Omoto stressed the reformation of all societies through the development of a peaceful self. This philosophy, along with the retention of life-affirming Shinto rituals and the study of medieval Japanese arts or “ways” contributed to the evolution of

Ueshiba’s aikido. Ueshiba continued farming,and took up calligraphy, and poetry during his stay at the compound. At Onisaburo’s encouragement, he opened his first dojo there in which he trained Omoto members in jujutsu. When Onisaburo decided to travel to Mongolia in 1924 to “found a utopian empire of universal brotherhood” (Franck 1975: 39), Ueshiba accompanied him as his “bodyguard extraordinaire” (Stevens 1997: 39). During what has become known in aikido literature as “The Great

54 Mongolian Adventure” (which ended in failure and near death for the whole party), Ueshiba discovered an ability to dodge bullets by anticipating the intent of the attacker and the path of the bullet’s flight. Says Ueshiba of this event, “The ability to sense an attack is what the ancient masters meant by anticipation. If one’s mind is steady and pure, one can instantly perceive an attack and counter—that, I realized, is the essence of aiki” (Ueshiba cited in Stevens 1997: 45). Previously devoted to developing his technical prowess as a martial artist, Ueshiba also said that upon returning from his Mongolian adventure, he “began searching for the essence of Budo, its true spirit” (46). In the spring of 1925 when he was forty-two years old, Ueshiba experienced what is oft written of as his divine transformation from a magnificent martial artist to a master of budo. By now Ueshiba was highly skilled in a variety of armed and unarmed combat arts. And although he had already named his martial art Aiki Bujutsu (blending spirit with combat techniques) (Saotome 1993: 10), he continued to seek a deeper or more transcendent way of practicing. Onisaburo had encouraged this quest believing that body and spirit should be unified. Throughout his life, Ueshiba engaged in rigorous physical and spiritual training: intense meditation and prayer, cold water purification rites, staff, sword, and spear techniques, exercises to strengthen and toughen his body and mind. One afternoon in a garden on the Omoto grounds in Ayabe after a period of intense practice, Ueshiba had a visionary experience. He experienced “the spirit of the universe envelop[ ] his body with a shimmering golden light” and suddenly understood that the essence of the universe was the essence of budo. He was later to say that he had realized that “To follow true Budo is to accept the spirit of the universe, keep the peace of the world, and correctly produce, protect, and cultivate all beings in nature” (Saotome 1993: 10). Following his enlightenment, Ueshiba continued to develop and promote aikido

55 throughout Japan. He established dojos and administrative associations. In 1958, he even appeared in a U.S. television documentary series Rendez-vous with Adventure. In 1960 he received the Medal of Honor with Purple Ribbon from the Japanese government and in 1964 he was awarded the Order of the Rising Sun, 4th Class as the founder of aikido. In 1961 he traveled to Hawaii for the first and only time. While there he attended the opening of Honolulu Aikikai and conducted a 40-day teaching and demonstration tour. On April 26, 1969, Ueshiba died of liver cancer at age 85 and his only surviving son, Kisshomaru Ueshiba, became Nidai Doshu (second Master of the Way).10 Morihei Ueshiba Osensei is still an important figure in Japanese culture. In his natal village (Tanabe) tourist maps direct visitors to his birth home, his grave, and a commemorative statue in a public park.

Aikido in the U.S. and California 11 In 1953, Koichi Tohei, then 8th dan (eight degree black belt) student of Ueshiba’s, introduced aikido to Hawai’i and established many schools under his direction over the following nine years.12 In 1953 Tohei also visited San Jose, California to demonstrate aikido at a judo event (Pranin 1991).13 Though this may have been the first introduction of aikido to the mainland, one of his students, Marine Corps sergeant Robert Tann may have taught the first U.S. aikido class in San Diego (Stone and Meyer 1995). Another American serviceman, Eugene Combs, is reported to have opened the first non-military aikido school in the U.S. — in Lawndale, California, 1956 (Pranin 1991), while Tann opened one in South San Francisco in 1961 (Stone and Meyer 1995). Two of Tann’s students, Robert Nadeau and Frank Doran (both marines), went on to study aikido with Ueshiba at Hombu Dojo in Japan (Nadeau studied intensively with Osensei; Doran visited twice for short periods of time) and later opened their own dojos in Northern

56 California. Frank Doran, one of the American “pioneers” of aikido, suggests that “aikido in the United States was primarily influenced, if not totally influenced by Tohei Sensei” (Doran in Stone and Meyer 1995: 136). Tohei’s philosophical book Aikido in Daily Life, was all that was available at that time and it was the Hawaiian Tohei-trained instructors who began teaching in California between 1958-1961 (Stone and Meyer 1995). His influence on American aikido was significant. Frank Doran speaks with retrospective embarrassment of his first trip to Hombu Dojo in 1962: “[W]hen I went, I was filled with all the stories of Tohei Sensei because, being an American, all we heard was Tohei, Tohei, Tohei, Tohei. The books were written by Tohei, the people who were teaching us had learned from Tohei. The focus was on Tohei. So when I went to Hombu Dojo, I went to Hombu Dojo with my letter of introduction to Tohei, not to see O-Sensei” (Doran in Stone and Meyer 1995: 136). Tohei’s influence on west coast aikido continues to be felt because he inspired many of the early teachers and students in this area. His emphasis on the principles of ki (which he developed into a distinctive practice) rather than technique style still guides many Northern California aikido schools. (Pranin 1991: 135) His positive teaching style influenced local instructors. Frank Doran tells this story of his first class with Tohei Sensei at Hombu Dojo: “I executed the technique and Tohei Sensei said in this booming voice, ‘Good, good, very good. Now try this.’ I’ve never forgotten that” (Doran in Stone and Meyer 1995: 140). This approach to teaching in which students are positively reinforced for what they did and encouraged to build on that, is very much in evidence at North Bay. The history of aikido in the San Francisco and Monteray Bay region has some particularities, chief among them the fact that all of the early instructors and dojo founders are non-Japanese. These teachers influenced the tenor of the practice, provided innovative models for instruction, and inspired a sense that an aikido dojo could become a community. Aikido was introduced to Santa Cruz in 1969 and to UCSC in 1970 by

57 Robert Frager. In 1963, Robert Frager began his aikido training in Hawaii (with Yamamoto sensei, a student of Tohei’s ) while studying Japanese at the University of Hawaii (Frager in Stone and Meyer 1995). In ‘64 he traveled to Japan and, with a letter of introduction from his sensei in Hawaii, found his way to Hombu Dojo where he met Ueshiba. After receiving his black belt under Osensei and completing his doctorate in psychology from Harvard, he began teaching psychology at University of California at Berkeley and in 1970 was hired as a professor of psychology and religious studies at Merrill College at University of California at Santa Cruz. In 1969 Frager taught evening adult aikido classes at the Mission Hill Junior High School in Santa Cruz and in 1970 he started aikido classes at University of California, Santa Cruz where he was soon joined by Frank Doran and by Stanley Pranin the following year. Frager was an ardent student of humanistic psychology and Eastern spiritual practices the principles of which he found easily in aikido practice. While at Merrill College, Frager taught courses on mind-body harmony (with the goal of “increasing mental and physical capabilities”), the psychology of personal growth (described as a study of “theories and disciplines aimed at enhancing physical, mental, and emotional growth and effectiveness”), and studies of Eastern religious disciplines focusing on their “effects on personal growth and religious experience” (UCSC Bulletin 1972-73). Frager had to create a style of teaching aikido that was different from the models he had in Japan. There, techniques were demonstrated without verbal or detailed instruction. Students learned by long-term, intensive, rigorous practice. Sensing that that style would not work with the Esalen crowd, Frager began to break the techniques down into simpler elements and to verbalize the instruction. It was a style he carried over to his teaching at UCSC. (pers. com. March 27, 1999). Mary Heiny, another American who trained in Japan at Hombu Dojo in the late 60s and who taught at

58 UCSC’s dojo between 1973 and 1974, has also commented on the need for more specific verbal instruction of American students. Although Heiny’s sensei at Shingu (Hikitsuchi) included discussion of the techniques and the meaning of aikido with his demonstrations, this was unusual. She says that despite the short amount of time she spent at Shingu compared to Hombu dojo, “the impact on my training was disproportionately large” (Stone and Meyer 1995: 119).14 Today, aikido instructors in this lineage try to find a balance between doing and speaking and Heiny suggests that Japanese sensei who visit U.S. dojos have learned from American teaching styles. Of this early period of aikido in Northern California, Danielle Evans15 said “It was a real exciting period. There was a real kind of freshness and aliveness in the air; aikido was something new. There was a lot of enthusiasm around aikido in Santa Cruz. Linda Hultgren [now Holiday] was at U.C. Santa Cruz; she was a shodan and had just come back from Shingu. And Bob Frager was there.…There was a lot of excitement around it” (Evans in Stone and Meyer 1995: 293). Many of the pioneers of aikido in this region either trained or taught at the University of California in Santa Cruz. When Robert Frager taught aikido at Mission Hill High School in 1969 Tom Read, Jack Wada, Hans Goto, and Glen Kimoto became his students. The following year Frager opened the dojo at the University, asking Frank Doran to teach with him. Linda Holiday (née Hultgren), then a first-year student of “Aesthetic Studies” began her training. In 1972 Kathy Bates visited Shingu and returned with enthusiastic stories of her training there. Mary Heiny visited Santa Cruz and gave a slide show about Shingu. In 1973 Linda Holiday and Dick Revoir traveled to Tokyo to train at Hombu and Shingu, where they were met by Jack Wada. That same year, Glen Kimoto received his shodan (from Northern California Yudansha Kai, which was founded sometime in this period) and became the first “locally grown” black belt tested under local procedures. And after six years in Japan, Mary Heiny returned to the U.S. to join Bob Frager at UCSC in 1974.

59 In 1975 Heiny turned over her UCSC teaching position to Jack Wada and moved to Seattle to establish a dojo there.16 Holiday, returning from Japan as shodan, spent a summer at the University of Connecticut, in Storrs, CT where she taught her first aikido class. Soon however, she returned to Santa Cruz to train at her “home” dojo. In 1975 Holiday returned to Japan where she trained in Shingu (and ocassionally Tokyo and Osaka) for a year and a half. In Shingu, she studied under Senseis Hikitsuchi, Anno, Tojima, and Yanase, all students of Osensei’s. But in1976, as a result of “demoralizing” experiences at Shingu (which included gender discrimination) Holiday returned to Santa Cruz prepared to quit aikido. Luckily, Jack Wada convinced her to stay and help him teach at UCSC. Then Wada asked her to take over his position for one term while he took a leave of absence to train in Japan. From there, he wrote a letter to her announcing that he would not return. Holiday says affectinately “That’s why I say I was tricked into teaching by Jack Wada.” In an interview, Linda Holiday recalls that “There’s quite a history in the early years of one person teaching and then turning it over to another, and another, and then the other, and then they passed it to me and I never handed it over!” Other aikidoists that began their teaching careers at UCSC are Glen Kimoto, Raso Hultgren, Beth Marlis, Dave Hurley, Jerry Paup, Eddy Casper, Jerilyn Munyon, Don Monkerud, and Martha Jordan. Jordan Sensei has been the chief instructor at the UCSC dojo since

1992 and was my first aikido teacher.

60 CHAPTER 3. NORTH BAY AIKIDO DOJO

North Bay Aikido beginnings When the UCSC aikido classes became popular with students and non-students as well, Linda Holiday a core group of aikidoists from UCSC to opwn a community dojo off campus. In 1982, after training in local parks and starting public classes at Louden Nelson Community Center, they leased a building and legally incorporated, with a board of directors consisting of Linda Holiday, Alan Holiday, Katie (Raso) Hultgren, Beth Marlis, Greg Mock, Jerilyn Munyon, and John Putica. North Bay Aikido’s first building, a rental at 152 Walk Circle, was entirely remodeled by volunteer efforts. At that time, the dojo had eighteen adult paying members, who in five months installed a new roof and floor, painted the interior, built dressing rooms, laid carpeting and mats, built a deck and stairs, and planted a garden. When owners sold the building in 1986, the dojo had to move out. Linda Holiday, executive director of North Bay Aikido, recalls that period of time with both acceptance and nostalgia: “You’ve got to accept what you cannot change, right? It was so sad leaving that building. That was our dream at that point. It was very exciting being there. I remember when we put up the shomen [the front of the training area where a small altar and photo of the founder are placed] for the first time, and everyone who was running around doing things, just stopped. It was a really special moment. It was our dojo....[The time at Walk Circle] was a wonderful period of coming of age” The board of directors of North Bay elected at that time to begin raising money for a permanent home for the dojo. In the meantime, they rented a very small, old church on Washington Street that had previously been used as a dance studio and a yoga center. “The building was very funky,” said Linda. “It had its charm, but it was very funky. And because we were always trying to move out of it, we didn’t improve it, so it

61 stayed funky. It never fit my vision of where we would end up and yet there we were, year after year.” Linda loved what happened in the building, even if she was dissatisfied with the building itself. “We had a wonderful ten years there in terms of the actual training. That’s really where we grew to fit the vision. Looking back, I see that the dojo community had to precede the facility, the fulfillment of the dream of the facility. The community had to be there, otherwise you’d have an empty building.…There’s no point in having a huge building that’s just an expensive monument to aikido.…It seems to me that it was during the period on Washington Street where a lot of people came and really stayed. We always talked about aikido as a life-long commitment. But it seems to me that the early years were much more transient.” In September 1996, North Bay Aikido acquired a permanent building after ten years of fundraising. When I asked Linda Holiday when she decided to open her own dojo, she relayed this story to me. It took place in 1980 when she was training at Kumano Juku Dojo in Shingu, Japan. “There was one moment when it all came together in my mind. It was one of those negative moments, you know something negative and then something positive came out of it. I was in a class… and someone got hurt, they got hit in the face or something. It was a friend of mine. And...some of it’s just cultural, the Japanese are just embarassed sometimes; they’ll express hesitation and embarrassment. But basically this guy just stood there in the middle of the dojo with blood running out of his mouth, and nobody paid any attention to him. And I was just horrified. And I don’t even know what I did. I was probably just trying to take my cue from the people around me or something. I don’t remember rushing over and going ‘Nishi, Nishi are you OK?’ But I have that image in my mind: that this person was hurt and bleeding and nobody was taking care of him. And that was the moment when I thought, I literally thought to myself, ‘OK. I know we can do better than this.’ … My technique may never be great, but I think I can set up a dojo with a better feeling than this.” This was a moment in which Japanese interpersonal etiquette and martial arts history met with American gender constructions, and with the sensibilities of the social politics

62 of Santa Cruz, California. It set the stage for the development of an aikido dojo with a particular “feeling,” a particular sensibility.

Aikido affiliations and schisms As in many modern martial arts, aikido has its own local, national, and international associations. These associations are designed to coordinate and maintain certain standards of aikido practice.17 They are often the organizers of “camps” (extended training periods usually lasting between four and seven days), the publishers of books and video tapes, and sometimes offer teacher training seminars. Typically, they also control the black-belt ranking of their members and thus can control or abuse aikido’s standards, a subject of some discussion in the aikido world. Perry notes that “there is controversy about which organizations are well-run and well-intentioned” (Perry 1993: 13). Some of this controversy stems from debates around the “true” intentions of aikido and which instructors teach the most “authentic” aikido. Because most of the largest current associations were developed under the direction of Japanese-born and Osensei- trained shihan (“master teacher” or “principal”), membership in an association provides non-Japanese students and dojos with a link to aikido’s “cultural origins” (Perry 1993: 13). Aikikai (or the Aiki Federation), considered by most to be the world headquarters of aikido with some 2000 dojos internationally, was founded by Osensei in 1945. Upon his death, his only surviving son, Kisshomaru Ueshiba, became Nidai

Doshu (second Master of the Way), and the director of Aikikai.18 In 1999, with the passing of Kisshomaru, Moriteru Ueshiba, Osensei’s grandson, took over the leadership of the organization. Aikikai oversees two major U.S. organizations: United States Aikido Federation (which in turn directs four regional associations each headed by a Japanese shihan) and Aikido Schools of Ueshiba (founded by Mitsugi Saotome Sensei,

63 one of Osensei’s uchi-deshi—disciples who live at the dojo as caretakers and students). North Bay Aikido is unusual in that it is unaffiliated, headed by a Westerner, and by a female Westerner to boot. It would be too easy to attribute this independence to American individualism. For one thing, most U.S. dojos are affiliated with aikido federations. In addition, the circumstances that lead to North Bay’s independence were unusual. In the following section, I discuss North Bay Aikido’s decision to become independent and how its leaders have coped with the lack of direct affiliation with Japan. How North Bay came to be independent is closely tied to the peculiarities of its local history and to gender politics. Two major incidents lead to this decision: first, a schism following Osensei’s death between Doshu Kisshomaru Ueshiba and Osensei’s chief instructor at Hombu Dojo, Koichi Tohei Sensei; and second, the discovery of sexual abuse perpetrated by a local California aikido instructor. Koichi Tohei introduced aikido to Hawaii in 1953 becoming the director of Hawaiian (and subsequently U.S.) Aikikai. After Osensei’s death, Tohei’s relationship at Hombu Dojo and with Doshu deteriorated. In 1974 he sent a letter to all affiliated dojos announcing that he was severing his ties to Hombu Dojo, that he felt he was doing the “real aikido,” saying you’re either with me or against me, and announcing the foundation of his (or Ki no Kenkyukai). Given the strength of Tohei’s influence on American aikidoists, this was a painful moment: dojos had to choose between Tohei and Osensei. Following Tohei’s resignation, Yoshimitsu Yamada was given charge of the United States Aikido Federation. In 1982, Senseis Holiday, Doran, Nadeau, Dobson, Wada, and Witt and others met and decided to break with the USAF. On behalf of the members of Aikido Association of Northern California, they wrote a letter to Doshu asking if they could be directly affiliated with Hombu Dojo through their own organization. To their surprise, Doshu accepted. The Aikido Association of

64 Northern California (AANC) created a unique relationship with Hombu Dojo: direct affiliation without a Japanese shihan intermediary. Northern California dojos thus became independent of Japanese control, aside from their formal affiliation with Hombu. When Linda Holiday inherited the UCSC dojo and its affiliation in 1977, the members of Aikido Association of Northern California asked Linda to attend their meetings, making her “part of the inner circle” with Frank Doran, Bob Nadeau, Bill Witt, Jack Wada, and others. For ten years, the AANC served the region’s dojos, including North Bay Aikido. Shodan exams in the whole region were conducted through the Association. Current North Bay Aikido testing structures derive from this period, when shodan exams were conducted by a committee of senior instructors who, especially in the early years, were likely to be known personally by the examinees. But in 1987, a member of the Association and dojo cho of his own school, was accused of sexually molesting several of his young students. The event divided local aikidoists, some of whom wanted to deal with the crisis quietly (perhaps in order to protect the integrity of aikido), others of whom wanted to take direct and enduring action. As the most senior woman in the Association, Linda was always sensitive to issues of gender and sexism within the aikido community. The abuse accusations circulated as gossip but were eventually substantiated by a number of people, including victims. Linda brought the issue to the Association and advocated for direct action. At North Bay, Linda also organized several meetings with senior instructors, with the women of the dojo, and with the entire student body. These meetings eventually led to a confrontation with the accused (who had informally admitted his guilt to acquaintances). The Association met and agreed to send letters to area dojo leaders explaining the allegations and consequence in the hopes that he would not be hired as an instructor and

65 to prevent further abuses. A letter was also sent to the accused requesting that he resign from the Board of Examiners (who conducted the regional promotion exams). North Bay members also decided to research and inform the aikido community about child sexual abuse, a topic that at that time was not as widely understood as it is today. Linda remembers distributing an information packet via a male black belt in the hopes that it would be better accepted from him. One positive outcome was that North Bay developed a sexual harassment policy which was eventually presented at a women’s martial artists conventions and has served as a model for other martial arts dojos. In addition, the accused sensei had his rank standing and his teaching privileges revoked by his sensei. Although the AANC sent out letters and the accused suffered explicit consequences, many members of the Association felt that what this man had done was not serious or that it had nothing to do with aikido. After consulting with North Bay’s senior instructors, with the board ofdirectors and with the dojo as whole, Linda (as the chief instructor) decided to resign from the organization. It was a risky stand to take. It meant severing ties the Association offered with Japan—however informal—and threatened them with isolation from the rest of the region’s dojos.19 To this day, this incident is very difficult for people to talk about, and indeed there are still few public discussions of the frequency of sexual harassment in dojos. The very heart of their spiritual endeavor was threatened. To their credit, the political struggles surrounding their resignation from AANC have not prevented North Bay from maintaining personal ties with the other Association members. Jerilyn Munyon told me that there was never animosity over Association’s response, only shock and disappointment. North Bay’s response “was for something, it was not against somebody” said Jerilyn; “an issue of conscience” said Glen. It is perhaps testimony of everyone’s devotion to the foundational principles of the art, to peaceful resolution to

66 conflict while maintaining one’s own center. What is most significant about these events is that North Bay community responded to what they considered violations to the integrity and ethical foundations of aikido. On the surface, these breaks with aikido organizations might seem to represent a lack of connection, a principle vital to the community. But they also caused North Bay to find ways to connect with other dojos and other sensei through training and mutual respect, rather than through obligation to an organisation. Her fear of becoming isolated from the larger aikido community after withdrawing from the AANC caused her to spend the next “ten years building connections.” These connections are maintained through her personal relationships with other instructors and through open dojo events like seminars and the annual summer retreat. I asked Linda what the consequences of independence were to her and to the dojo. One positive result was that all her energies could now be invested locally: “It’s helped me have the time and energy to really stay true to my own vision of the development of aikido and the development our dojo.” “In a way,” Linda explains, not being affiliated with Hombu allows or requires that the motivations of the students are grounded in the practice and not in the certificate from Japan. And when students, they think about whether they might come here and train, like from another area, they have to come here and train because they want to, and not because they’re going to get a certificate from Tokyo. And there have been some people who’ve wanted to come and train, and train with me, but then when they hear that there’s not going to be any Hombu rank for them, they think ‘well, maybe I won’t.’ Reaffiliation would make it more difficult to know why people come to her to learn. On the less positive side, Linda is concerned about whether her student’s rank will be honored in other dojos (though most students have only had good experiences in this regard). And indeed, the very act of promoting students to higher ranks required

67 her to rely on her own authority, rather than the authority of higher-ranked Japanese shihan. Linda is not absolutely committed to maintaining North Bay’s independence: “I actually wish we were officially affiliated with Japan because I trained there and have very strong feelings about Japan and the lineage.” But her charismatic leadership (though Linda would insist that it was never her work alone), the quality of the training, and the sense of community engendered at North Bay has proven to be an excellent model of an American dojo which is beginning to receive national and international attention.

Santa Cruz, California Santa Cruz, California is located an hour and a half south of San Francisco and a half hour west of Silicon Valley. The zeitgeist of the Sixties is very much alive in the Santa Cruz of the 1990s, though this is rapidly changing due to the expansion of Silicon Valley. It continues to be an area steeped with the spirit of intellectual and experiential explorations in a desire to better the collective and individual human condition. The population is a mix of university and college students, surfers, professionals, computer geeks, environmentalists, migrant workers, and artists. Although Santa Cruz has many other populations and lifestyles than the one I depict here, its reputation nationally and locally continues to focus on the alternative influences generated at UCSC. Reuters news service, for example, put this story on their "Odd News" internet list in October 2000: HEADLINE: Bummer! Grades Hit California's U.C. Santa Cruz SANTA CRUZ, Calif. (Reuters) - Talk about a bummer. The University of California at Santa Cruz, long known as a free-spirited institution where students enjoy sun, surf and freedom from conventional letter grades, is moving to adopt the same A-through-F grading structure as other campuses in the state university system. Set in the midst of a redwood forest with a view of Monterey Bay, UCSC was

68 conceived of as an alternative to large and impersonal universities. When Clark Kerr became president of the University of California system in 1958, he began exploring plans for a future campus through which to implement his vision of a more intimate intellectual community such as he had experienced as a student at Swarthmore. He conceived of campus in which small colleges, each with its own distinctive personality, would serve modest numbers of students, thus creating intimate environments with in a large university system. Under his guidance, UCSC opened in 1965 with Cowell College followed by Stevenson (1966), Crown (1967), Merrill (1968), College V (now Porter, 1969), Kresge (1970), Oakes (1971), and College 8 (1972). (Colleges 9 and 10 are currently under construction.) Each college, clustered around a redwood-covered hillside, has its own focus: theater and fine arts, minority studies, environmental studies, social science, etc. The ideal learning environments at the colleges would “give place to passion, irrationality, vision and eccentricity” (Grant and Riesman 1978: 257), to “freedom and exuberance of play” (Grant and Riesman 1978: 258), and to revolutionary ideas about society, human potential, and interpersonal relationships. Early anti- establishment faculty were seeking alternatives to the rigid and entrenched elite universities from which they came and saw Santa Cruz as an opportunity to explore new intellectual directions and teaching methods. They rejected required courses, grades, and student/faculty hierarchies and worked toward curricular innovations and narrative evaluations of student work. And they rejected competitive sports20 and fraternities. Kresge College, for example, typified the experimental goals of Clark Kerr. Founded in 1970 and strongly influenced by the humanistic psychology of Carl Rogers and Abraham Maslow, Kresge was an experiment in the creation of communal, cooperative learning environments. The founding Provost of Kresge, Robert Edgar, a microbiologist, became interested in “T-groups” (sensitivity training through verbal and

69 sensory group experiences21) and the kinds of environments or “contexts” in which learning and self-development could take place. His goal as provost was to create “as much as possible, a participatory, consensual, democracy” (cited in Grant and Riesman 1978: 80). His hope was to create a “community,” which he defined as an enduring group of people who share “common goals and purposes, and common experiences...community is the ability of the people to collaborate, to share, to give something of themselves to one another toward a common objective” (ibid. p. 92). Michael Kahn, a former actor and T-group leader at its Bethel, Maine headquarters and at Esalen, was hired to help train faculty and students in the ways of T-grouping. Their hope was to create a “caring community” (ibid. p. 86) in which intellectual interests could be pursued cooperatively. Grant and Riesman argue that the founders of Kresge “bespoke the hope and innocence, very ‘American’ in origin, of a nation that has forgotten Calvinism, fatalistic Catholicism, and other forms of caution in a country of an open frontier....Though the founders conveyed their dream in the modern jargon of the T-group, it was a recurrent dream in America, reflecting a profound hopefulness about the redeeming power of educational communities. Their sense of mission seemed to be part of what David Cohen has called ‘a mad rush to repair the trauma of becoming modern’” (90-91).22

The university continues to lead (some would say over-power) the direction of the local community.23 A recent edition of the Silicon Valley magazine announcing UCSC’s addition of a computer engineering degree program announces that the chancellor of the University “wants to bring her campus out of the Age of Aquarius into the Information Age” (San Jose Mercury News, “From Tie Dye to High Tech” by Michael J. Ybarra, 11- 7-99). Indeed, the university culture reflects many of the general sentiments in this area, both countercultural and futuristic high tech. Santa Cruz County, long a location for diverse cultures, has produced a “movement environment” (Novack 1990: 137) than makes innumerable movement

70 practices available. A glance through any of the weekly entertainment listings will find listings for classes in modern, ballet, contact improvisation, community dance jam, International, Israeli, Scottish Country and English Country folk dancing, Morris, Country Western line, hula, Flamenco, Afro-Brazilian (samba and capoeira), salsa, belly and other Middle Eastern dances, ballroom (especially swing which is undergoing a national resurgence), African (Congolese, Senagalese and West African), in addition to special events like a Mexican Independence Day celebrations, the annual Greek Festival and the new (to Santa Cruz) Festa de Yemanja at which one can expect folklorico and cumbia, Greek folk dances and Brazilian samba respectively. Therapeutic movement systems like Qigong, Kundalini, hatha, Iyengar, and ashtenga yoga, tai chi, and Feldenkrais are also available.24 The variety of movement opportunities available in Santa Cruz County also reflects the presence of both Japanese- and European-American populations. According to the organizers of the annual Santa Cruz Martial Arts Expo, this county is “one of the four largest martial arts communities (per capita) in the entire U.S.” (Burns 1996: 15). Among the demonstrations by local martial arts schools at the 1996 Expo were five Japanese forms (including aikido), Tae Kwon Do (Korea), Escrima (Phillipines), Tai Chi, Chinese Boxing, and Kung Fu (China), Pencak Silat (Indonesia), Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and Afro-Brazilian Capoeira. At the 1998 annual Japanese Cultural Fair seven

Japanese martial arts were demonstrated—iaido (the art of drawing the sword), kyudo (archery), traditional karate, judo, kendo (art of the sword), and daito-ryu aikijujitsu (the predecessor of aikido). In addition, there were with performances of bon odori (Japanese folk dances), classical Okinawan dance, and two taiko drumming groups. Santa Cruz and the San Francisco Bay area in general represent a global movement environment where one can be exposed to movement systems from nearly any culture.25

71 The Dojo Although “dojo” is often translated by American martial artists simply as “training hall” or “gymnasium” it literally means a “place (jo) of the Way (do).” In early Japanese history (12th century), dojos were unauthorized, popular temples in which new religious sects were practiced. Today, they are used by practitioners of meditation, messianic religions, and martial arts. “A dojo,” writes Winston Davis, “is a ‘practical’ kind of place, used not only to foster lofty ideas, but to realize them in some physical or at least palpable way. Since Japanese religion is more concerned with practice, discipline, and training (shugyo) than with theological erudition (kyo), one naturally associates dojos with a very ‘Japanese’ kind of spirituality” (Davis 1980: 1-2). Hence, the dojo is a specialized, even sacred place in which particular activities and behaviors are practiced and embodied. When I use the term “dojo” I will be referring to the place/space, the ethical phenomenon housed by the building, and the whole of its membership. At North Bay Aikido, the dojo is a living, sociocultural entity that requires the energies of all of its members to keep it alive. The actual building that houses the dojo is not inconsequential, however: it is an expression of the devotion of local members to the history and art of aikido. Nonetheless, the building and the dojo are not identical. When it was time for North Bay to move out of its second rented building (on Washington Street) and into the permanent site, some members were concerned about the loss of what had become for them “a home.” But Linda knew otherwise: she knew they would “move the sense of the dojo to another place because we’d done it before and because I’d trained in a lot of different places, and you know, you recreate the dojo.” People who were reluctant to leave Washington Street, she continued, “mistook the building for the dojo. And when you actually take the dojo out of the building, the building doesn’t look very special anymore. The life goes out of it; the aikido goes out of it.”

72 Arthur and J. Kleinman posit that in China, “networks as well as bodies are energized with qi (‘vital energy’) which is strengthened or weakened, built up or dissipated, made effective, or ineffective, owing to the interconnection between the sociomoral and the physical (the somatomoral)” (A. and J. Kleinman 1994). Through its training activities as well as through a wide range of non-training social activities and expectations, North Bay Aikido vitalizes and strengthens its internal social connections: it becomes community. Although aikido is not a religion, it is budo: a spiritual discipline. While this section is intended primarily to inform the reader of North Bay Aikido dojo as a space and place in which particular people do particular things, it is not enough to simply describe that without indicating how its particularities are involved in the creation of community. From the foundational activity of training, to the design of the physical site, the volunteer efforts to renovate the building, participation in daily cleaning, and even the infrastructures that manage the business of the dojo—all play a role in producing and maintaining the sense of community that makes North Bay unique.

The building Located one block from the historic Santa Cruz Mission, this 5,000+ square foot building was formerly the Order of the Eagles Club and previous to that the Santa Cruz

Women’s Club (from whom the dojo inherited hundreds of blue monogrammed ceramic dishes and cups). The building was almost entirely renovated and remodeled by the voluntary efforts of North Bay’s members and friends. The exceptions were electrical and plumbing work, which had to be contracted out for legal reasons. Also, because of the building’s location in an historic area, state law required that a certified archeologist be present when time came to dig areas for porches. Renovations at the permanent site required innumerable committees and volunteers, took ten months to create a space

73 ready for the Grand Opening Celebration. Currently, the building has 1,750 square feet of permanent mat space (the “Mat Room”) plus additional training space with portable mats (the “Blue Room” named for the royal blue mats and blue walls). In addition there is a full commercial kitchen, four bathrooms (one with shower for handicapped access), two showers, a library (which houses the video and book lending library as well as a television and VCR for viewing and duplicating video tapes), a business office, lounge, separate dressing rooms for men and women, a private office for the senior instructors, and a children’s playroom. In the rear of the building is a parking lot which accommodates 20 cars, as well as bicycle parking. In front is a Japanese garden. The Mat Room, as is appropriate, is in the center of the building. The floors are covered with sage-green rectangular foam mats designed to resemble traditional Japanese tatami. Along two sides, several feet of space is left bare as a walkway. Along the longest wall are located a row of chairs (called “the bench”) on which injured or tired students may rest and visitors may observe. As North Bay follows the Japanese custom of removing ones shoes when entering the dojo, there are tiered shoe racks (designed and built by one of the members) inside and left of the two entrances. Walls are wainscoated with bamboo-yellow wood and the walls above painted in a complementary tone. The green mats and pale yellow walls were designed to give the effect of traditional Japanese building materials as well as to create an atmosphere of calm. On each of the very high walls are select pieces of art. Calligraphy by Japanese aikido instructors, including one by the founder (Osensei) remind members of the Japanese origins of the art while also providing “aiki” philosophies to meditate upon. A bulletin board with photos of “Our Ancestors” holds photos of now deceased sensei and practitioners associated with North Bay: Ueshiba, Yasushi Tojima (one of Linda’s

74 instructors at Shingu), Terry Dobson, and Rosmarie Grenier, an early member of North Bay. A large lithograph portrait of Osensei created by a former member of North Bay (Abigail Bassler) hangs nearby. At each corner and in the center of the shomen (front or “head”) wall are small wooden shelves designed and created by Glen Kimoto and Jerilyn Munyon for holding vases of fresh flowers. A photo of Osensei sits above the flowers in the center and to its left hangs the Osensei calligraphy which translates as “True Victory; Victory Over Oneself.” This statement is the guiding principle of the dojo itself. On the walls to either side of the shomen wall are racks (again, made by a member of the dojo) holding wooden swords and staffs. Above the shoe rack is a bulletin board on which are posted dojo news and announcements for seminars at other dojos. The arts and crafts of dojo members can found throughout the building—photos and paintings given as gifts of appreciation or as shodan gifts, pottery for flowers, and even the pillows (in the three symbolically important aikido shapes, triangle, circle, and square) that adorn the couch in the lounge.

Classes, events and misogi In 1999 North Bay Aikido offered twenty-three classes every week, nearly doubling the number of classes it offered in its previous building. Seven of these are for children (divided into two groups—5-8 and 8-12 years of age) and teens. The remaining sixteen classes are divided into beginning (three times per week), intermediate (twice per week) and general classes. General classes are offered every day of the week, some starting as early as 6:30 a.m. Beginners are invited into general classes after they have completed six weeks of the eight-week course. Intermediate classes were instituted in 1996 in order to make the transition into general classes easier for beginner students, though students of all ranks may join. For a single, monthly “mat fee” (currently at $65.00) all students who have completed a beginner course are welcomed into any class and are

75 free to train in the dojo whenever the building is open and the mat is not in use. North Bay has also offered special class series such as the Adaptable Class for people with either long- or short-term restricted movement abilities. Several people from the adaptable class now attend general classes and have undergone rank promotion testing. Friday night general class is sometimes divided into two parts with one for general techniques and one reserved for weapons work or for advanced training (limited to students with brown or black belts). Aikido students around the world typically undergo periodic examinations for the purpose of determining rank. The adult ranking system at North Bay Aikido is organized around four belt colors: white (5th kyu), blue (4th and 3rd kyu), brown (2nd and 1st kyu), and black (shodan or 1st dan, nidan or 2nd dan, etc.). Black belts increase their rank according to technical skill up to around 4th degree; beyond that, promotions are accorded through socio-political means. Within the dojo, codified rules of behavior (formal etiquette such as bowing, removing ones’ shoes, etc.), language use (Japanese greetings and technical terms), non-ordinary garments (traditional Japanese uniforms called gi’s and hakamas), and mock-weaponry (wooden swords, staffs, and knives) are required. At North Bay the hakama, a traditional Japanese floor-length, pleated skirt is worn only by black belts.26 Rank promotion exams take place at North Bay about four times a year. Typically, students are asked by the chief instructors to take a test and it is considered impolite to inquire about when you will be asked. While in some dojos a list of examinees is posted, this is not the case at North Bay, where only the dates of exams are posted. Participation in aikido is unrestricted: all ages, genders, and body types can and do practice. In addition to general weekly training, North Bay offers a number of special training opportunities in the form of seminars and workshops throughout the

76 year. Three or four times a year the dojo holds women-only classes lead by senior female students of the dojo. Visiting instructors for seminars may be Japanese shihan (master instructors), but are often from North Bay’s lineage like Doran or Frager, or chief instructors of dojos with which North Bay has special ties. Many of the guest instructor workshops accompany black belt exams. Seminars and workshops have been used for raising building funds, as, for example, a series of peer-organized (that is, white-belts only, blue-belts only, etc) workshops in the summer of 1996 just after the purchase of the present building. The Grand Opening of the Mission Street building was a day of training with North Bay lineage as well as demonstrations by dojo cho from throughout California. The event drew nearly 200 aikidoists from throughout the San Francisco area as well as from Seattle and Cleveland. There are five annual events which offer additional or special training: New Year’s Eve and Day, Kangeiko, Annual Matsuri, annual seminars with Mary Heiny, Frank Doran, Bob Frager, and Motomichi Anno, and the Summer Retreat. On New Year’s Eve training begins at 11:00 p.m. and concludes at 12:30 a.m. with a short break to shout “Happy New Year” on the front porch at midnight. At 10:00 the following morning a “Purification Practice” is held at a local state beach. After some basic exercises and bokken training, shin ko kyu, a moving meditation and purification series, is performed in the breaking surf of Monterey Bay. A potluck lunch finishes out the

New Year celebrations. The yearly Winter Training Intensive—Kangeiko (“kan” means “winter”; “keiko” means “training”)—is a week-long event which takes place in late January or early February, and follows a Japanese custom. Kangeiko is an event shared between North Bay and the UCSC dojo, with the weekday classes held on the university campus, and the weekend events at North Bay. This is an “opportunity” to intensify training in the coldest part of the year by joining in the daily 6:00 a.m. classes or

77 training as many times as possible in seven days. The early morning classes begin with a half an hour of running, walking, or suburi (repeated bokken strikes) in the outdoors. One hour of mat training with a variety of instructors follows. To celebrate the success of kangeiko, a ceremony is held on the last day of training during which Japanese calligraphic certificates hand-crafted by North Bay’s chief instructor are distributed. This is followed by a potluck lunch and a raffle for which gifts are donated by local merchants and dojo members with proceeds going into the building fund. The Annual Matsuri and Offering Demonstration is a commemorative event marking the day on which the Founder passed away (April 26, 1969). This event involves many traditional Shinto customs (offerings of flowers and food, chanting, meditation) but also includes general training and demonstrations of aikido by members in honor of Osensei. Mary Heiny and Bob Frager, whose relationships to the dojo I outline elsewhere, visit every year for workshops, frequently accompanied by black belt exams. She is also a regular instructor at the annual Summer Retreat. Originally organized in 1993 by Martha Jordan, Cindy Lepore Hart and others to promote women aikido instructors and to support female students, the Retreat is now organized through North Bay. It continued the tradition of inviting high-ranking women aikido instructors for five days of intensive training until 1999. That year the all-women tradition was broken in order to make the visit of a Japanese instructor broadly available. Motomichi

Anno sensei was one of Mary Heiny’s and Linda Holiday’s instructors in Shingu, Japan. Linda feels that the Retreat continued to empower women instructors by the unusual sight of a male Japanese 8th dan shihan co-teaching with two Western women aikidoists (Holiday and Heiny). In addition to the annual round of special training events, North Bay often performs demonstrations at city-wide events. In the past, members have demonstrated

78 aikido at First Night Santa Cruz (a contemporary city-wide New Year’s Eve celebration) and at the annual Santa Cruz Martial Arts Expo. Its involvement in the Japanese Cultural Fair has been more consequential, however. Glen Kimoto, senior instructor at North Bay, has served on the planning committee of the Fair and organized its martial arts demonstrations for many years. In fact, it was at the Fair of 1995 that I was first introduced to North Bay Aikido, when they demonstrated the art on the grassy lawn of Mission Park. Since 1997, after settling into the new building located a short walk from the Fair grounds, all the martial arts demonstrations have been performed at North Bay’s dojo. In addition to aikido, Japanese martial arts represented at the Fair have included judo, karate, iaido, kyudo, kendo, naginata, and daito-ryu aikijujitsu. A variety of non-training social activities take place year-round as well. These include social activities (potluck-dance parties and celebrations following exams, women-only potlucks, etc.) and dojo upkeep (regular cleaning of interior and grounds, and ongoing remodeling of the building). After the acquisition of the Mission Street building, renovations and repairs were organized through “work parties” which usually include a prepared lunch and intensive labor on Saturday afternoons following regular training. Additionally, the first Saturday of each month was designated as a special misogi day. Misogi is a Japanese word meaning purification of body and spirit. According to

Mitsugi Saotome, it is a foundational concept in Japanese “religious and samurai traditions” and denotes both an attitude toward training and the act of training itself.27 It is an important part of the self-transformative goal of budo, and is enacted through a variety of practices. “External misogi is the scouring of the body with water to wash away grime; internal misogi is a detoxification of inner organs through deep breathing; and spiritual misogi is a cleansing of the heart to purge oneself of maliciousness.…For

79 Morihei, the practice of Aikido and the performance of its techniques were synonymous with misogi” (Stevens 1993: 98-99).28 Osensei traveled to Nachi Falls in the southern region of Honshu, Japan to undergo a rigorous Shinto cold-water purification rite under the falls. Different dojos and different students practice these esoteric modes of misogi (meditation, breathing, cold-water purifications) according to their own needs. North Bay, for example, offers group experiences of purification through hardship at its New Year’s Day practice on the beach (and in the cold waters of Monterey Bay rain or shine) and through the week-long winter training classes. Occasionally, a group of North Bay students organize a long bicycle ride into the Big Basin redwood forests north of Santa Cruz for a waterfall ritual, following Osensei’s example. But North Bay uses the term “misogi” in an expanded way to include the maintenance—or cleansing—of the dojo building itself. For Americans, housecleaning is not a highly regarded activity and is seen as a necessity with few personal benefits (Valdez 1999). This is not easily overturned despite the recognition that “when we clean, we mark the dojo as a special—indeed, a ‘sacred’—place” just as we mark it as special when “we change our clothes, our language, and our natural inclinations” (ibid. p 36). Cleaning is the purification of the training site, an act which, ideally, is a part of regular training and a part of building a sense of community amongst members. Misogi is entirely voluntary. Various misogi “systems” have been created to ensure that the work that needs to get done, gets done. This has presented some new challenges in the much larger new building. At the Washington Street location, it took only a few members to clean the space (the mat room, dressing rooms, bathroom, and office). As newcomers demonstrated a certain level of commitment to their training, they would be asked to participate in the chores: dusting and sweeping the mat room; vacuuming the dressing rooms; replacing and watering the flowers. Each of these

80 chores could be accomplished by one person who was expected to continue with their piece of misogi for one or two months. Chores rotated easily. Being asked to help in these chores was a sign of membership, and volunteering for the work was a sign of desired membership. The Mission Street building was another matter. With an increase in the size of the building space from 1400 square feet to 5000 square feet and with the addition of outside properties that need attention, many more volunteers were needed to accomplish these chores; many more specific chores were delineated. In addition, wear-and-tear has increased with additional traffic from the increase in scheduled classes and membership. Since moving into the new space, a number of new misogi systems have been created through collaborative efforts of new and old timers. Volunteers are sought at the end-of- training circle announcements, through direct phone calls, and bulletin board displays. In an attempt to make clear what details of the chores, signs and elaborated directions are posted throughout the building. But internal conflicts have arisen because only a small number of students have been involved in the upkeep. One of the early misogi coordinators was also concerned with how newcomers would be integrated into the system if they had poor role models in the old-timers. Though new systems were implemented and experimented with, none of them has to date produced an equitable distribution of dojo chores, and they continue to fall on the shoulders of a few devotees.

There may be several factors in this situation including “burnout” of the many volunteers who remodeled the building and the increasing pressures from the economic situation in this region, which impinge on the time and energy members can devote to non-training dojo life. Because the dojo is an invented community, it is dependent on individual participation for its survival. Yet it may be that because training is the primary requirement for membership, it is difficult to convince many students of the

81 importance of participating in the non-training activities for producing and preserving the community as an entity. In spite of this, the dojo is always spotlessly clean, thanks to the efforts of “misogi leaders” who work hard to involve as many people as possible.

Internal organization of North Bay Aikido Linda describes the internal organization of North Bay as “an interlocking system always in flux.” The organization is built around both eastern and western structuring models. The Eastern structure organizes the heart of the dojo itself while the Western model structures it as a legal and financial entity. As both the dojo cho (or chief instructor in an Eastern tradition) and the executive director (in the Western tradition), Linda Holiday also invents structures based on what she sees as being needed in the moment and on her inclination to include more people rather than less: “I don’t want to deal with this by myself!” was her continuing refrain when I spoke with her about the development of North Bay. The dojo cho is responsible for the philosophical directions of the dojo as well as for matters of teaching, for example the class schedule and the general content of classes. Decisions about who is ready for promotional exams are governed by the most senior instructors (Linda and Glen) with some input by younger instructors. Holiday is the executive director of the dojo, an incorporated, non-profit educational organization, with a board of directors made up of five members. The board is in charge of all major legal and financial decisions. For example, the board made decisions about moving into the Washington Street building and about buying the new building. They also decide about increasing fees, salaries for administrative staff, instructors, and construction work.

Social organization Because the ideal situation is egalitarian, many people at the dojo are concerned with

82 the development of exclusive cliques. The evolution of small, social groupings within the larger group seems to me to be inevitable. For many, the dojo is the primary location for potential interpersonal connections which may result in friendships or dating partners. Linda once said to me that she doesn’t mind people “shopping” for partners in the dojo, “it’s the returns and exchanges” that can get troublesome. As new people enter the dojo, its natural for them to view pre-existing social groups as cliques into which they cannot enter. Social affinity groups seem to be arranged on a loose formula of age, rank, and the number of years at North Bay. Rank organizes people only because many students advance in rank simultaneous with one another, creating a special bond of understanding. Age tends to organize people more frequently in part because age mates are also potential social dates. One of the current affinity groups based on age (roughly 20-30 year olds) and inter-dating is sometimes referred to as the dojo “brat pack.” Older students are more often in committed relationships, may have children, and may have trained together for 10 or more years. But these affinity groups are unstable and many people fall between them. For example, my rank peers are all younger than me; my age peers are mostly senior to me in practice. It has been harder for me, and for others like me who circulate between groups, to establish ourselves in more permanent social groups.

Perhaps because of the frequency of injury in the practice of aikido, there is a great deal of healing information shared among members. North Bay has its own “favorite” outside health practitioners who are frequently recommended to one another through informal channels of conversation in the dojo. These include a physician (who is a nidan and regular aikido instructor at North Bay), a chiropractor, a physical therapist (who once trained in aikido and continues to attend certain special events as an

83 observer), and a practitioner of Body-Mind Centering (a holistic approach to healthy bodies). In addition, the dojo membership itself includes a significant number of alternative health-care practitioners: several variety of massage and psychotherapists, including one who specializes in trance therapy, a chiropractor, a Feldenkrais trainer, a student of Chinese medicine, a Trager therapist (who has also trained in Swedish-Esalen massage), and Japanese shiatsu or pressure point specialist. The presence of such a large cohort of healers is representative of the Santa Cruz area which is saturated with schools and practitioners of alternative healing modalities. Because I had a number of injuries from training (age and wear-and-tear from my days as a dancer and from being a graduate student), I sampled a number of the dojo healing modalities: massage, physical therapy, trance, Feldendrais, Trager, and shiatsu. The dojo has also become an important part of an employment network for certain members. If your needs are in the area of computing, the North Bay community can also offer advice and services in a variety of computer hardware and software systems. This is due in large part because of Santa Cruz’s proximity to Silicon Valley, located “over the hill” in Santa Clara County. Members look for jobs, advertise jobs, and provide job leads for one another in the computer industry located both here and over the hill. But the presence of so many software experts in the dojo is also due to the on-the-job efforts of dojo members in the software industry. That is, many new students arrive in the beginner classes after having heard about aikido from co-workers whose ethical social behaviors attract attention. North Bay also has its share of artists: potters, painters, graphic artists, musicians, actors, dancers, again, an indication of the creative interests in the wider Santa Cruz community.

84 Etiquette North Bay’s use of Japanese etiquette falls somewhere in the middle of a range of choices for American dojo cho. For example, Gaku Homma Sensei runs a traditional Japanese-style dojo in Denver, Colorado, in which he maintains Japanese teaching styles and etiquette to a great degree, in part because of his interests in educating the local population about Japanese arts and culture. In contrast, Robert Nadeau believes American dojos can do without the Japanese trappings (language, etiquette). His interest is in developing personal awareness and he feels that Japanese things may make it easy for Americans to claim failure on the grounds that they are not Japanese (Stone and Meyers 1995: 69). North Bay practices are intended to create an appreciation for aikido’s origins while also accommodating Western ideologies. For example, at North Bay bowing in and out of uke/nage and student/teacher relationships follows Japanese custom (I’ve heard it jokingly said that aikido is the art of bowing). You bow when you enter and exit the dojo, when you enter or exit the mat room, when you step onto or off the mat. You bow when you begin and end training, when you greet the instructor, greet a training partner, and when you thank a partner at the end of each technique. The bowing creates an attitude of respect and is a kinesthetic reminder of aikido principles. On the other hand, the use of the term “sensei” in reference to the dojos chief instructors is significantly downplayed in order to maintain a more equitable relationship between students and teachers. (see Appendix C “Basic Dojo Etiquette,” a hand-out available at North Bay Aikido)

Conclusion These histories and descriptions provide the contexts in which the particularities of the practice of aikido at North Bay Aikido dojo can be understood. They provide a general sense of the nature of aikido relative to other martial arts. As it is practiced here, aikido

85 is a spiritual discipline and a forum through which to consider and reinvent social selves. In the next two chapters, I provide the theoretical foundations of this research. Because aikido is always practiced in physically intimate partnership with one or more students, a review of pertinent studies on the sense of touch is important. Touch is a multifaceted sense involving tactility, proprioception, thermoreception, and nociception or pain. While touch has an organic basis, it also carries social meaning which must be interpreted within cultural and historical contexts. I also examine how collective bodies moving in like manner can effect social change. As I will show, aikido offers its American students (at least) the opportunity to cultivate self and interpersonal relatedness in an atmosphere of “loving protection.”

NOTES:

1 Survey respondents included one fifth dan; 4 second dan; 13 first dan; one first kyu; 10 second kyu; 2 third kyu; 7 fourth kyu; 7 fifth kyu; 9 sixth kyu or unranked; and 4 non-respondent. This parallels the whole membership roster which includes one fifth dan, 2 fourth dan; 2 third dan; 13 second dan; 37 first dan; 5 first kyu; 14 second kyu; 10 third kyu; 7 fourth kyu; 11 fifth kyu; and 24 sixth kyu or unranked

2 Jerilyn is a woman of average stature; Takashi could play a lineman’s position on the football field.

3 Between fall 1999 and winter 2000 Linda Holiday gave a series of teacher training sessions.

4 For example, karate was developed by Okinowan peasants inspired by Chinese martial systems and further shaped by Japanese philosophy and symbolic systems (Donohue 1994: 42-43).

5 Martial systems from other regions of the world are currently becoming popularized in the US: Philipino escrima, Brazilian capoeira, Indodesian pencat silat are all practiced in Santa Cruz County. South India’s kalaripayatu has not found popularity outside of India perhaps because of its rigorous training requirements. European combat forms—fencing, wrestling—are rarely included in discussions of martial arts. New martial systems are constantly being developed, synchretized, and otherwise transformed (e.g., TaiBo and Kickboxing as aerobic exercises).

6 Kung fu is much more complex than this statement might indicate. Its origins are ambiguous. Its many styles and forms are classified by geography, philosophical roots, how they utilize effort (energy), by their movement shapes (linear or circular, for example), and by their intended outcomes (combat, theater, health) (Corcoran and Farkas 1988: 88).

7 Historian of Japanese culture Karl Friday stresses that the uses of bushido, bujutsu, and budo in most contemporary martial arts literature are modern uses and not traditional ones. He attributes the origins of

86 these uses to martial arts historian Donn E. Draeger. For the sake of “convenience” Friday adopts the now conventional definitions of these terms as follows: bushido, the code of conduct of the warrior classes; bujutsu, the combat disciplines; budo, the transformational processes that reinscribe combat arts with moral and ethical goals; and bugei, the general term for Japanese military arts as both bujutsu and budo. (Friday 1997: 7-8) I follow this convention as well.

8 The Allied occupation forces also banned the practice of judo in Germany (Corcoran and Farkas 1988: 170).

9 Judo is often considered the first “martial sport” because its founder (Jigoro Kano 1860-1938) saw competition as an opportunity for self-development as well as a means towards establishing credibility in the West and thus attracting more participation. Kano is also credited with inventing the colored-belt (dan-kyu) ranking system in the late nineteenth century. According to one historian, he invented the system in order to “identify the skill levels of students he did not know” when visiting judo clubs across the U.S. (Friday 1995: 52). Previous to Kano’s standardization of rank, martial arts training centers had their own standards and systems of rank.

10 On January 4, 1999 at age 77 Nidai Doshu Kisshomaru Ueshiba died. He was succeeded by his son Moriteru Ueshiba as Dojo Cho of Hombu dojo and Doshu of Aikikai World Headquarters in Tokyo.

11 The spread of Aikido outside of Japan is sometimes credited to five of Ueshiba’s leading students who are also responsible for developing today’s primary styles of practice. According to Stanley Pranin, editor of Aikido Journal, “The pedigree of practically every Aikido school active today can be traced back to at least one of these pioneering teachers” (Pranin 1996:2). These stylistic schools — all of them with international members — each represent a different aspect of Ueshiba’s Aikido. The differences lay in the degree of emphasis on Aikido’s martial, defense, or combative aspects, its psycho-social developmental qualities, or in the development of “ki” (life force or energy) versus technical skill. Aikikai Hombu Dojo, the largest and most influential of the schools, was Ueshiba’s own dojo, now directed by his grandson. Hombu Dojo produced the first generation of Aikido instructors and today puts less emphasis on the martial aspects than on the art as a means for self cultivation. school, founded by one of Ueshiba’s pre-WWII students, focuses on the combat techniques of Aikido. Shinshin Toitsu, more commonly known in the U.S. as the “Ki Society,” stresses the development of ki not as a supernatural but as a natural, universal energy. The fourth style, Tomiki Aikido, is the only school to allow sport-like competitions, a practice largely rejected by the general Aikido world on the grounds that it opposes Ueshiba’s teachings. The last school, Yoseikan, further hybridizes Aikido by incorporating elements of judo, karate, and bujutsu.

12 In Stanley Pranin’s four-generation genealogy of Ueshiba’s students, Tohei is listed as second generation. This chart organizes Ueshiba’s major students by “the various phases of [Ueshiba’s] teaching career.” They are as follows: 1st generation, 1921-1935; 2nd generation, 1936-1945; 3rd generation, 1946-1955; and 4th generation, 1956-1969 (the year of Ueshiba’s death). Only two westerners are included in this august list: André Nocquet (3rd generation) and Terry Dobson (4th generation) (Pranin 1991: 129). Terry Dobson (1937-1992), an American, had a great influence on both East and West coast practitioners of aikido and continues to be spoken of fondly in North Bay classes.

13 As long-time practitioner and historian Stanley Pranin writes “The task of documenting the history of aikido in the United States is a formidable one.” The great size of this country and an “almost total lack of communication among early practitioners” are among the reasons he cites. In addition, many early instructors were servicemen whose “activities were small scale.” This “coupled with the fact that some have since died or abandoned their practice, has made it difficult to record their contributions” (Pranin

87 1991: 135). Readers should keep this in mind when reading the history I have compiled. Regardless of its flaws, it is clear that aikido was first established in the U.S. in California. The earliest east coast aikido dojo was established in 1964 in New York. In 1961, two years after Hawai’i became the 50th state of the U.S., Tohei accompanied Ueshiba on his only trip to Hawai’i where he toured with demonstrations and classes.

14 Aikikai Hombu dojo in Tokyo was founded by Osensei. Hikitsuchi Sensei (who makes a controversial claim that Osensei awarded him the rank of 10th Dan), opened a dojo in the city of Shingu where Osensei came frequently to teach. Although several early instructors in Santa Cruz trained in Tokyo, both Linda Holiday and Mary Heiny (and thus to some degree North Bay Aikido) trace their spiritual lineage to Shingu.

15 Evans began her training in 1973 with Stanley Pranin at Aikido of Monterey (California) and is now its chief instructor.

16 When Heiny moved to Canada she left behind a legacy of women’s aikido in Seattle and established enduring ties between many of the dojos there and North Bay Aikido: Two Cranes Aikido (Chief Instructor, Kimberly Richardson), Emerald City Aikido (Chief Instructor, Joanne Veneziano), and Aikido of West Seattle (Chief Instructor, Pam Cooper). In September 1998, in celebration of Mary Heiny’s thirty years in aikido, five Seattle dojos brought together Linda Holiday, Tom Read, and Jack Wada (Heiny’s peers) and Richardson, Veneziano, and Cooper (Heiny’s students) for a weekend-long seminar.

17 This discussion of aikido organizations is derived primarily from Susan Perry’s article “American Aikido Organizations” Aikido Today Magazine #28 7 (2) 1993: 13-16.

18 Kisshomaru Ueshiba, third son of Morihei and Hatsu Ueshiba, was born 1921 in Ayabe.. He died on January 4, 1999 at age 77. He worked for 9 years as a stockbroker; became Dojo Cho of the Tokyo dojo during WWII and Dojo Cho of Aikikai Hombu Dojo in 1948 (hombu means “headquarters”). He served as chairman of the Aikikai Foundation in 1967 and President of International Aikido Federation in 1975. At his father’s death he “assumed the hereditary position of Doshu (Master of the Way) gracefully accepting the position’s administrative as well as its ceremonial responsibilities” (Rubin and Perry 1999: 11). He is credited with overseeing the expansion of aikido outside of Japan and with trying to maintain the spirit of Osensei’s aikido as it traveled around the globe. In 1987, received Blue Ribbon Medal for Japanese gov’t. (Ronald Rubin and Susan Perry 1999 “In Memoriam: Doshu Kisshomaru Ueshiba.” Aikido Today Magazine #62 13(2) March/April, pp 10-11).

19 The formal legal chargse against the accused were dropped due to lack of supporting witnesses.

20 Physical education classes were deliberately limited almost entirely on non-competitive (and less competitive) activities such as archery, cycling, dance, jogging, kayaking, sailing, spelunking, surfing, and, of course, aikido. Some team sports were available; soccer for men, and coeducational softball and volleyball, for examples. Judo and karate were also available, though it is not clear from the 1971-72 UCSC catalog whether these were taught as competitive or as non-competitive martial arts. The now infamous UCSC mascot, the indigenous Banana Slug, was chosen by students to mock the use of mascots in university competition sports programs. The mascot was made famous when actor John Travolta wore a t-shirt sporting the mascot in the film Pulp Fiction.

21 “T-group” is short for “training group” and refers to sensitivity training workshops developed first in New Britain, Connecticut in 1946 for the purposes of improving relationships between teachers, social workers, and the community. Early workshops evolved into an organization, National Training

88 Laboratories, which moved its headquarters to Bethel, Maine. There they began running seminars for improving interpersonal relationships in businesses. Some of the techniques used in these group-dynamic workshops (such as role playing) evolved further into group therapy and encounter groups, which became widespread during the Sixties. (Anderson 1978)

22 Cohen had argued that in the early nineteenth century, educators hoped that public schools could “recreate social solidarity by remaking personal values, sentiments and ideas” through the “conscious construction of social morality” within modern institutions (Cohen cited in Grant and Riesman 1978: 91n).

23 I should add that the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, whose epicenter was in Santa Cruz County, also had powerful effects on the city. Santa Cruz was hit hard and lost about half of its downtown offices and shops. Even now they are continuing to rebuild and there are on-going debates about what the nature of downtown should be and who it should serve.

24 All of these are listed in the v24 n23 September 10, 1998 Good Times.

25 According to the directors of the San Francisco Ethnic Dance Festival, “there are 250 ethnic dance companies and soloists based in the San Francisco Bay area.” “San Francisco Ethnic Dance Festival” Written and edited by Kathryn Golden; Produced, directed, photographed by Ashley James. City Celebration Inc. 1988

26 Some Aikido dojos use an elaborated belt system (typically white, blue, brown, and black) while others recognize only white and black belts (especially in Japan). The hakama was originally a specialized garment worn by the samurai, the warrior class of medieval Japan. Today it continues to be worn by specialists in Japanese movement forms such as Noh dance-drama and kyudo (archery). In Aikido, the hakama is worn as a sign of hard-won achievement and is typically awarded only to those reaching shodan or black belt status, though some dojos permit anyone to wear hakamas. Glen Kimoto often jokes that it is a handicapping system since it is sometimes more difficult to move in the skirt.

27 From an undated handout entitled “Misogi Waza” by Mitsugi Saotome.

28 See also Dorinne Kondo’s discussion of cold-water misogi at a Japanese ethics retreat. (Kondo 1990)

89 Figures 3-13. Building Community. Construction on the Mission Street dojo was done by volunteer efforts and served to solidify the sense of community. Eventually, as these efforts stretched into a second year, the limits of the community were also challenged.

Figure 3. Gaza Bowen

Figure 4. Glen Kimoto

Figure 5. Dave Bryan and Bob Tingleff.

Figure 6. Lunch was always provided for workers.

90 Figure 7. Construction on the interior of the “new” dojo on Mission Street.

Figures 7 and 8 show the primary training area mid-construction.

Figure 9 shows the room after all the cosmetic touches were added.

91 Figure 10. Linda (second from the left) supervises the placement of a large rock for the Japanese garden in front of the dojo shown below.

Figures 11 and 12. Japanese garden, two views.

92 Figure 13. Lori Talcott, Kahlil Al-Refai, and Debra Hawkins enjoy lunch after a rigorous morning of training at the Grand Opening of the new North Bay Aikido dojo, June 28, 1997. This event brought together nearly 200 aikidoists to train and celebrate. Training was led by Senseis Doran, Nadeau, Komoto, and Holiday. In addition, aikido demonstrations were presented by nineteen sensei from Central California and beyond and by North Bay Aikido’s Young People’s and Teen’s

93 Figures 14-24. Community Connections: special events

Figure 14. Jesse Burgess of North Bay Aikido (right) takes ukemi for a friend’s nidan exam at Two Cranes Aikido in Seattle.

Figure 15. From left, Penny Sablove, dojo cho of Heart of the Mission in San Francisco and Denise Barry, dojo cho of Kuma Kai dojo in Sebastopol, CA diagnosing a students posture at the annual summer retreat at UC, Santa Cruz, 1998.

94 Figure 16. Annual New Year’s Day training at Natural Bridges State Park. Linda (standing center) introduces a technique.

Figure 17. Uniform jackets are removed for misogi (cold water purification). Here students are doing a meditation (shin ko kyu) in the surf.

95 Figure 18. Kangeiko (Winter Training). This annual event brings together students from UCSC and students from North Bay Aikido. This group photo was taken at the UCSC dojo.

Figure 19. At the close of Kangeiko, Linda Holiday presents certificates with Japanese calligraphy that she has brushed herself. This one is being presented to Kahlil Al-Refai.

96 Figure 20. During weekend long seminars, the dojo sometimes prepares lunch. Here, participants eat on the front porch during the Grand Opening of North Bay Aikido’s new dojo.

Figure 21. From left, Bob Tingleff, Hope Malcom, and Charles Ruhe relaxing after class.

97 Figure 22.

Figure 23.

Figure 24.

Potlucks are a time to see each other in social situations outside of the dojo. These were taken at the party following New Year’s Day training. Figure 22. Linda Holiday and her son, Nathan. Figure 23. Takashi Tamasu (dojo cho Aikido of Pajaro Valley) and Jan Mathers. Figure 24. left to right Jesse Burgess, Jen Smith, Aimen Al-Refai, and Gaza Bowen.

98