Mystery Solved — Revisiting Summer in Hell
The first time I visited Aikikai Honbu Dojo was the day after the 45th All Japan Aikido Demonstration. The mat was packed with aikidoka from all over the world and the day was hot and humid. Even given the conditions, Doshu ordered the windows closed during practice. I had been told that he felt that students should “feel the seasons” when training. That may be true, but the real reason for closing the windows was more practical: he was being a good neighbor.
Though the Aikikai Honbu Dojo, in both of its incarnations, has been on the same spot since 1931 (the current dojo was built in 1967), the neighborhood has changed with the times. Most of the surounding buildings are mansions and so there are certainly many dojo neighbors who wake daily to the arrhythmic percussion of falling bodies. From street level, the thumping and thudding can be heard clearly so mansions at the same level as the training spaces must be almost as noisy as the dojo itself. Closing the windows is probably the nicest thing Doshu can do to improve life in the neighborhood but it makes for steamy classes.
Tokyo’s dripping summer heat has yet to start simmering in earnest but, for me, the best feeling of the season is breeze through my dogi on my bike ride home.
Where To Sit
When starting in or visiting a new dojo I have tried to pay close attention to local etiquette. Each school has its own variations on appropriate behavior and it is wise to politely be mindful of differences. As you would expect, Aikikai Honbu Dojo has variations as well. On the far wall of the first floor, facing the entrance is a bronze bust of Osensei and on the landing between second and third floors there is a similar bust of Second Doshu; it is common practice to pause and give a short bow in front of both when passing. Another thing to note is that when entering the third floor training area, men should enter through the men’s changing room door. Women may enter through the main doors though, if sensei is starting class, women have been known to run through the men’s locker room and sneak in the back way — be warned! 
Other schools I have been in have varied between having strict rules regarding who sits where during the line-up and no rules at all. Honbu falls into the no real rules category but there are better places to sit. For example, If you are traveling with a group, try to _avoid_ the people you came with. Do NOT sit near them else you may wind up training with your buddy from your home school. You probably did not travel 6,000+ kilometers to be thrown by your buddy from home, right? Also, make an effort to sit closer to the far wall, near the back door. This is where most of the older students (sensei/shihan types) sit. If you come all the way to Tokyo to train then you may want to go the extra five meters or so to get to where the teachers are sitting.
After class, sweeping and dusting is appreciated but don’t take your hakama off yet! There are many shihan, shidoin and cranky old sempai who do their regular training at Honbu, don’t just decompress, ask to be thrown. You may find that the best training you get is after class!
Not Bad for Seventh Dan …
I want to switch to real mountain climbing. At least you get to see the top occasionally. If you happen to fall off a real mountain it can’t possibly hurt as much as a fall from the meta-physical. Physical pain is tolerable to a point but frustration and impatience are hard devils to tame. I want to push them off the fucking mountain. Sometimes it seems as though they are all that are pushing me up it.
After a fairly normal Honbu practice I got in line to be thrown around by the ki wizards. Usually, I find one who will throw me and sometimes try to show me how to do their special brand of not-quite magic. This time however, I was thrown and thrown and thrown some more for good measure. After that I was passed onto another nage for yet more with a comment about “We don’t rest in Aikido”. After finishing two rounds with shihan, each of uncounted many throws from absolutely random waza, with a short but grueling round with a sempai (who graciously did the same throw repeatedly) in between, I was dragging butt. Blowing wind like a smoker in a marathon, I hauled my soggy, rag-doll self to the edge of the mat and plopped down hard.
David, who had been watching the fun, laughed at me and said, “He’s not at all bad for a seventh dan is he?” Nope, not bad at all. But, but… How does he do it?
