by Robert Wolfe
One of the most interesting days we’ve had was in July
2004, when John Stevens, the noted instructor and
author, visited Itten Dojo to present an overview of
classical aikido. The seminar came about when good
friend Ron Tisdale mentioned he was looking for another
venue, preferably one outside Philadelphia, to add to
the Stevens seminar tour that year (at the time, Ron
coordinated an annual visit). I figure any time a
prominent instructor can teach at the dojo it’s a good
thing, and I’m always looking for another chance to get
a book signed by the author, so I volunteered. I’m very
glad I did.
The Stevens entourage had more than a two-hour drive
from Philadelphia, but even with one slight excursion
from the optimal route they arrived in plenty of time
for the 10:00 a.m. start. Two, two-hour sessions were
planned: the morning class addressed taijutsu while the
afternoon practice focused on aikiken and aikijo. Both
sessions were preceded by a 15-minute lecture that was
both interesting and completely pertinent to the
physical training that followed. The initial lecture
covered some history and insight to Stevens Sensei’s
instructor’s (Shirata Rinjiro) approach to training, and
provided an introduction to kotodama, a form of
chanting derived from the belief that sound can directly
affect reality. Despite the fact none of us had ever
experienced kotodama, Stevens Sensei led us in a number
of different chants as part of our warm-up and
preparation for training — I was amazed at the way the
dojo resonated and by the eeriness of the effect. I
don’t know whether it did anything for our aikido, but
it certainly sounded good.
Other than that it would likely be very different from
anything we’d experienced previously, I didn’t know what
to expect of Stevens Sensei’s technique. As it turned
out, Stevens Sensei’s aikido was quite unlike our normal
fare, but impressive. There was an emotional exuberance
to his practice, but a spiritual calm, as well as a
dynamism that was usually understated but which
manifested on occasion in very sharp atemi. Several
times the uke did something unexpected (having limited
experience with Stevens Sensei and perhaps not having
quite understood what he wanted to demonstrate); Stevens
Sensei responded seamlessly with an appropriate
technique and then just laughed and told uke to try
again. When one of the uke apologized, saying, “Sorry,
my mistake,” Stevens responded with, “No, not at all.
That’s the great thing about it: There are no mistakes
in aikido.” Now, these guys weren’t trying to kill him
with their attacks, but clearly he was completely up to
whatever happened.
Stevens Sensei also demonstrated a wide range of
applications of the fundamental techniques he reviewed.
Since Shirata had trained with Ueshiba across virtually
the entire spectrum of the development of aikido,
Stevens Sensei was able to demonstrate techniques in
terms of, “Now, this is the more modern form of X; this
is how they did it pre-war; and this is how they did it
in between.” And Stevens Sensei had some chops. He was
invariably careful of his uke, but he demonstrated some
serious atemi and could have done appreciable damage
with the more “martial” (as he put it) versions of the
techniques. I was impressed by the variety of practice
the Shirata Sensei approach to aikido afforded. If
students were looking for a relatively light and relaxed
workout, they can find it; if a couple of guys wanted to
get together and knock the stuffing out of each other,
they could do that, too.
The weapons training in the afternoon was interesting from a number of perspectives. We were introduced to the 45-movement misogi-no-ken and the 75-movement misogi-no-jo, neither of which we’d ever seen. In his introductory lecture, Stevens Sensei pointed out that Shirata Sensei insisted on an equal balance of taijutsu, aikiken, and aikijo. Despite the fact aikiken and aikijo are not primarily combative, let alone the fact these forms are intended as purification rituals, Stevens Sensei was able to demonstrate a variety of both unarmed analogies and more combative, paired-practice sets derived from the misogi forms.
John Stevens himself was a gentleman, delightful to talk
to, unaffected and seeming to take great pleasure in
simply having the opportunity to share what his sensei
had passed on to him. We count ourselves very fortunate
to have had the chance to train with him.
