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Some [More] Notes on Terry Dobson's Teachings by Ed Pincus Alexander was practicing for his shodan (first-degree black belt) test over the course of a year, five to six days a week. Hugh Young had him do a practice test at the end of class with Terry Dobson present. There was an awed silence in the room. The practice test was inspiring--precise technique and zanshin. Everyone could see the benefits of daily practice and how far Alexander had come in a year. Terry stood up, came to the front of the room lumbering along in a seemingly careless manner and scratching himself like Toshiro Mifune as the impostor ronin in The Seven Samurai. His scolding voice removed any vestige of self-satisfied grin on the faces of the admiring class. He said he knew none of us wanted to hear what he was going to say, but he was going to say it anyway. Alexander's test showed he understood the aikido of love. He pointed out that after a throw, Alexander had put the knife blade on his hand across uke's chest in a protective controlling gesture. But the aikido of love was only half the picture. It had to be balanced by the aikido of _____????. I blanked out. I thought Terry was being silly and histrionic. I was embarrassed for him and thought he was just being his rebellious self, ruining a nice moment for the dojo. I thought he could have said that Alexander wasn't forceful enough or maybe he showed inadequate irimi. But Terry was saying something else and it took me years to get it. I don't remember the word he said. It could have been hate. But whatever it was, he was talking of a balance that the Japanese call the sword that gives life and the sword that takes life. Terry would say that in real life situations your opponent cannot know you are doing aikido. The efficacy of technique relies on your opponent thinking you mean to hurt him. Unconvincing atemi does nothing. Deb loved aikido and would often smile while doing technique. Terry confronted her. What's that smile for? (meaning how does it fit into technique?) Is it supposed to be disarming, or what? Technique to Terry was not merely (or even primarily) what we do when we try to imitate the instructor. Drooling like an idiot could get you out of a fight and was part of how he saw aikido off the mat. But if no one smiled, he would also complain. It wasn't this or that. It was a balance. Finding that right balance was a difficult and ongoing challenge. The mat was a place of experiment and drama. Unbalancing (kuzushi) wasn't merely physical. It was psychological. John, a farrier for Jane's horses, told me this story: A new customer called him to shoe his horse. The elderly horse owner asked him to come into the house when he was finished so he could write out a check for the services. When John came in, the man was sitting at the kitchen table stark naked but for a pair of riding boots. He asked what was the fee. John normally charged $30, but said $60. The man wrote out the check. The next time John came to shoe the horse, the same scene repeated itself, except this time John said $120, and the man wrote out the check. The third time again everything was the same except John said $240 and the man wrote out the check. The fourth time, the man was dressed and John said $30. When I related the story to Terry, he said' "Give him a black belt!" John achieved the balance of the sword that gives life (blending and protecting the man's feeling) with the sword that takes life (the escalating fee), and treated the situation with love, caring and protection.