Kiai and Aiki

As a quick refresher from my last post on this topic, I'll describe kiai.  It is  a powerful yet relaxed exhalation of air from the diaphragm, coordinated with movement, along with a simple utterance.  It is thought of by many as a "battle cry."  But, it represents a lot more.  Not surprisingly, there is a Japanese martial art entirely devoted to it, kiaijutsu.

Kiai can be translated from the Japanese as "concentrated or united spirit" or more simply as "spirit."  Thus, it is not the sound that is as critical as the realization that the kiai is the presence or even projection of one's own internal energy into an interaction with the environment.  If a karateka utilizes kiai correctly, it should be palpable to anyone nearby.  Without even hearing a sound, observers should experience a "disturbance in the Force" if you will.

While I am pretty confident in my use of kiai, recently I have been focusing more on "aiki."  The concept of "aiki" is the complimentary component to kiai that is rarely discussed and, in the past, had even been viewed as a "secret" component of the martial arts... unless you practiced  Aikido.  Put most simply, where kiai is a coordination of  internal energy into a concentrated and powerful emission, utilizing aiki is to coordinate with external energy.  

In a recent demonstration of Aikido that I attended, the use of aiki was described as responding  fluidly to the external energy of an attacker and returning their energy to them.  Instead of making a strong block against an attack, aiki would have you guide the attack past you and then "complete the circle" and counter-attack.  But, while this application of aiki is extremely powerful, I don't think it ends there.

Use of kiai can and probably should be draining over time.  You are taking the energy within and expending it.  While the above application of aiki should keep your energy level stable during an attack, I think that aiki can also be utilized to increase your energy level.  Lately, while I practice, I have been increasingly, consciously, imaging that I am connecting with the external energy that is in the universe itself.  Not only have I found that I can maintain myself through a very demanding one-hour-plus workout, I just recently experienced something compelling through my study of aiki.

We were going through our usual Thursday's intense workout which lately the shihan has been striving to make more physically demanding.  As a part of that work out, all of the openhanded katas are reviewed.  Towards the end of the evening, the more advanced katas call for scissor kicks.  Not only did I still have the ability to easily get through my katas last Thursday, I felt strong.  And, when it came time for a scissor kick, I flew!  Even I was astounded.  I think one of my scissor kicks took me over twelve feet forward when normally I might only go six to eight at that point in the workout.  And, it was effortless.  

I know many students of the martial arts struggle with kiai and their practice is thus diminished.  But, perhaps, providing instruction on aiki is what is needed.  As I have experienced, aiki can give you access to tremendous potential energy.  I believe that having the sense of the potential energy of aiki will make the application of its compliment, kiai, much easier and more natural.

Nature and Pharmacy

When some people talk about mental illness, the emphasis has become almost entirely upon biology -- specifically genetics involving neurology and neurochemistry.  They may give a tip of the hat to the world we live in by stating that stressful events are the likely trigger of the expression of genetics with undesirable consequences.  But, if there is a solution to be had, it is almost solely in the manipulation of neurochemistry to address "a chemical imbalance."

These people speak of a chemical imbalance as if it is NOT one of several competing hypotheses to explain mental health issues.  While I have certainly witnessed some medication have miraculous effects on people, it rarely is a total cure.  Moreover, I have witnessed sufficient examples of medication having little to no effect to be confident that the chemical imbalance hypothesis is just that -- a hypothesis.  

So, why do people buy into the chemical imbalance hypothesis more so than the psychological and social hypotheses of mental health problems? If  I were a cynical person I would think that it is simply about money.  That there is more money to be made in pharmacy than there is in self-help books and support groups or even therapy session bills.  That may play its role, but I actually don't believe that to be the reason for the success of the chemical imbalance hypothesis in the fight for the hearts and minds of people.

Certainly one reason may be that biology is viewed as a hard science -- more "true" because it involves things that can be easily touched and measured.  Measurement leads to numbers and attaching numbers to life can be reassuring to people.  Numbers are believed to be a meaningful reference, a touchstone that people can believe tells them something about what is happening and if there is change.  This is of course not exactly true.  There is no true "zero" on these scales and thus they are really arbitrary with no fixed scale.  Thus, the numbers are only relative to other numbers on the exact same scale.  Therefore, the information can not be easily generalized.

Another explanation is the loss of guilt.  If biology is to blame, that means the identified patient is not.  Come on?  Who can choose their biological make-up? Even the parents aren't somehow responsible.  Afterall, they too were born with unchosen genetics and had no way to control what they would pass along and in what combination.  This also means that a person is essentially powerless by themselves to change the situation.  This leads to solutions external to themselves.  While this could result in such a person seeking medication advice from a physician, it seems as likely that they will seek external "solutions" through the use of alcohol and illegal drugs.

The last reason I imagine that the chemical imbalance hypothesis is so appealing is that people want relief from discomfort and they want it quickly.  The idea of "life is pain" to many is just a funny throwaway line from a movie ("Princess Bride").  The chemical imbalance hypothesis is appealing in this manner as it leads to a quick solution.  No need to change your lifestyle or how you view or react to life.  Take this pill and problem solved.  Of course, it rarely if ever works out  that way.

I don't think any one of the above reasons explains the success of the chemical imbalance hypothesis.  It unfortunately is likely a combination of these reasons that keeps some people misinformed, powerless, and dissatisfied with the care they receive.   And, more importantly, not looking to other possible explanations and solutions.

Dissociation: Who is your co-pilot?

Note well: The following experience was arrived at through poor judgment and could have been quite fatal.  Realize that your own adventures will befall you without putting yourself at unnecessary risk.  Please, do not purposely try any of these experiences for yourself.

If you do something often enough, it is said to become a "routine."  Certainly I've developed quite a few so far, but only one so far was nearly fatal.  

If you drive a car, you likely have experienced dissociation.  Dissociation is a complete or partial disruption of psychological functioning such that one's body takes action but one's thoughts, feelings, and memories for that action are not readily recallable.   When one drives along a given route with repetition, eventually there is only a memory like pulling out of a parking lot and then getting into your neighborhood.  It is as if you have an autopilot for your car and like you took a nap.  That may be so, but, go figure, you have to remain awake for it to work.

It was the year after I graduated from university and I was working as a research assistant and resident computer guru for a smoking cessation research group in Rochester, NY.  It was also probably one of the loneliest years of my life.  Most of my undergraduate friends had left Rochester and my friends in Buffalo were caught up in the beginning of their own lives.  At the time, my girlfriend, K, was in her second year of undergraduate study in Johnstown, PA.  To see her I would have to drive over 300 miles.  It was about five hours through some of the most rural sections of New York and Pennsylvania.  I drove roundtrip at least once per month if not twice per month.  I would usually leave right after work and eat as I drove.  After a while, I thought I had every bend in the road, every abandoned farm, every  broke-leg dog memorized along the way.  Eventually, I started dissociating, which wasn't a problem until I convinced myself that the autopilot function would work even if I took a nap.

Just past DuBois, PA, where Route 219 met Route 322, the road slowed from 55 miles per hour to 25 miles per hour in order to make a near 90 degree turn ending at a t-intersection.  Cement barriers bracketed the turn to emphasize the need to slow, make the turn, and come to a stop.  The fact that traffic on the 322 moved briskly at about 75 miles per hour always made the intersection thought provoking.  But, with too many repetitions, it wasn't compelling enough.  Just past DuBois, PA, I fell asleep at the wheel.

My first memory upon awakening was of my car just about to enter the concrete encased turn at 55 mph.  I recall  the twin circles of light, from the beams of my headlights , growing rapidly upon the approaching barrier and thinking, "I am not going to make it."   Without a sound, I slammed hard on my brakes and pulled the wheel hard right.

Frighteningly, my car leapt into the air and began to spin like a top toward the curve.  I thought, "this is how I die," as with each revolution I approached the concrete wall.  Then, astonishingly, before I could hit the barrier, my spinning car began to follow the path of the curve!  Rather than rejoice, I recall realizing that the curve ended at a t-intersection and, more likely than not, I would sail out into the intersection and then get grand slammed out of this life by a tractor trailer going 75 mph on the 322.  I had time enough to wonder if it would hurt when my car suddenly stopped.  Stopped spinning, stopped completely, right at the t-intersection.

A cloud of dust rose up around my recently landed vehicle like when a helicopter settles unto its pad.  The traffic light flashed before me as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.  I realized I had been holding my breath when I began gasping and then looking quickly from left to right as if the world would once again start spinning madly.  I grasped hard on the wheel and caught my breath as reality and unreality renegotiated their relationship.

How did I survive?  Is God my co-pilot?  Am I some sort of mutant with a very limited power?  Did I experience some exotic but plausible application of physics?  The only thing I am sure of is that no matter how routine anything in your life seems to become, don't expect that you can sleep through it without things becoming much more interesting than you would like.