7/2/03
FAO Homma Sensei: A few thoughts from St. Andrews

Dear Homma Sensei,

I recently visited the Nippon-Kan website again after a while that I had not read it: I came across your reflections on Kawabe Sensei's passing, and I felt moved to write to you about this, and more generally a few thoughts about Aikido, its humanitarian aspect, and about the relationship between teacher and student.

I should say, to start, that everything is well in St. Andrews, and that despite the summer which usually brings an end to all student activities and with it Aikido, a good number of us have kept on training at least three times a week. The numbers are small, but the atmosphere is good, and we all enjoy training. We are all looking forward to you visiting us again.

The reason I write is the impact your reflections have had on me personally. Before I started training here in St. Andrews I hesitated a long time because, although I was very curious about Aikido, I eared I might find the sort of atmosphere which is unfortunately stereotypical of many martial arts clubs, and which usually involves either unnecessary 'machismo' or the 'flower arranging' of certain others. So Aikido and the people at the St. Andrews dojo were a very pleasant surprise indeed. I have to add that barely a fortnight after I began attending Aikido our 2001 intensive course began, opened by your three-day seminar, so my earliest Aikido memories involve your teaching (indeed, the first time I ever practiced with weapons was in your class). I do not say this as a superficial compliment, but I was very impressed–not only by your Aikido (what did I know about Aikido?!), but by what you said about Aikido, and particularly what you said about the relationship between the philosophy underpinning Aikido and the way we live our lives: "Aikido does not stop at the dojo." I was struck by how important this 'dimension' of Aikido was to you, later even more when I learned how you had acted upon it and created the Aikido Humanitarian Network.

I should add that I'm completing a doctorate in international politics, and have held numerous teaching positions over the past 6 years or so in various aspects of politics, so from a certain point of view I suppose one could say I have a 'black belt' in politics (!), and this brings to the my learning in the dojo the perspective of a teacher as well as of a student. I have often found as a teacher here in St Andrews that students approach the study of politics in a too abstract or theoretical way, which too often confines learning to the lecture theatre and the tutorial room (our 'dojo'!) and does not follow through into their lives the implications of the philosophy underlying their studies.

Given the nature of our discipline, we often talk about topics like war, injustice, poverty, or human rights, but too rarely do students let those topics become real to them, or act upon those injustices. I myself, in the limited ways I can, try to support various humanitarian causes and organisations, such as Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, Greenpeace and others. Teaching in itself can be a contribution, and recently I have helped teach at independent seminars organised on the war in Iraq and the grave situation in the Middle East. I always emphasise to my own students that what we study is not abstract, it is the reality of our lives and of other people's lives, that whether we choose to act or not to act upon this knowledge we gain we inevitably influence this reality, and this means that we should dedicate ourselves passionately to understanding, and that we should try to live out the consequences of our reflections.

So, as you can imagine, your speaking of the humanitarian dimension of Aikido, and our *responsibility* as Aikidoka not to forget our discipline outside the dojo resonated strongly with my own perspectives as a teacher in my own discipline.

For all these reasons, I was very struck by Aikido and the Akidoka I met - particularly by the humanitarian and teaching philosophies in Aikido: do not leave Aikido inside the dojo, and teachers and students are not roles, but *aspects* of learning. I suppose this first impression (often confirmed since) is the main reason why I am still training, and I feel that I should thank you for contributing so positively to this.

I would also like to say that I was moved very much by your reflections on the passing of Morihiro Saito Shihan and Shigeru Kawabe Shihan. I of course never met either, but your way of talking about them was very touching indeed, and reading your thoughts makes one feel a connection with such teachers, as though one had met them and knew them personally, and a direct connection to the spirit and history of Aikido. And particularly when today for all I understand of them there are many problems and controversies in the Aikido world, often seemingly about little to do with Aikdio, it is good to hear someone like you speak with peace, balance, and depth about more important things.

I was also moved by your recollection various episodes involving Morihiro Saito Shihan, Shigeru Kawabe Shihan, but also your own students, regarding the bond between teacher and student. The relationship between students and teacher in universities is of course very different, but for the past two years I have seen 'my' first students graduate from University and begin careers or continue to study, and occasionally some write to tell me about their new careers and lives - and it is an honour to know that I have made a positive contribution, however small, to their paths. Some of them are taking Masters courses, others work for humanitarian organisations, another still is training to become a lawyer specialising in human rights. I'm proud of them and I'm honoured that by their choices they remind me of the possibility of living a committed life, and I realise that in life just as in the classroom the distinction between teacher and student eventually beacomes less important than the fact that we all learn from each other.

I recall an episode on the first day of the seminar you taught here in St Andrews in 2001: you asked us at one point "Why do you study Aikido?" and no-one could really give an answer. After two years I still don't know why I study Aikido, but I'm not sure that one *needs* a single, fixed, certain reason to approach Aikido: would that not be to pre-judge Aikido and its practitioners, and shape it and them into what one wants rather than being open to what experiencing it might teach? Plutarch once emarked: "One cannot learn what one thinks one already knows." Does not having expectations of Aikido (or, indeed, of anything) make it into a journey at the end of which one finds what one wanted to find, and has learned nothing one did not already know? The only thing I know is that I am curious about Aikdio, that I enjoy it and I enjoy training with other students, and that from time to time it seems to me that practicing teaches or just reminds us about the human condition.

This curiosity and this sense of humanity were sparked in large measure thanks to the experience of your visit to St. Andrews in 2001–as well as, of course, thanks to the teaching and continued dedication of our Sensei, Paul Hepple, and our Technical Director, Anita Bonnivert Sensei. I would like to thank you for having been such an interesting and challenging teacher, and would like to hope that you will still be for many years to come.

Domo arigato gozaimashita Sensei.

Andrea Teti
(St. Andrews University Aikido Club Secretary)