One Point

The techniques of the Art of Peace are neither fast nor slow, nor are they inside or outside. They transcend time and space.

-Morihei Ueshiba, The Art of Peace

Detach for all, as silence, stillness and needlessness.

Wanting is attachment. Attachment to an outcome, to a result, to a state of being that is not within our control. Wanting is needing with bite. Wanting is living with tension and desire to have things a specific way, expecting the world to be a certain way, and basing our experience more on the way it should or could be, rather than on the way it is.

Only through detachment from all can true change come, for change through attachment and want, is change that is not natural, but rather contrived, architected, designed. True, long lasting and real change is natural. Like the tree that takes a certain bend because of nature, the wind and flows of the place where it exists, forcing change although possible, is not change that will reflect presence and being.

Detachment is total perception. In detachment for all, there is no desire to change the moment, no need to change the experience, no desire to alter the experience. It is fully experienced, fully sensed, fully perceived and felt deeply.

Detachment from all is fully listening, truly listening, with all senses, with all of my being. Detachment is taking up the ki slack of the universe, sense the ki of all living things, near and far, past and future.

Like when listening to music or another, you are not truly listening if you are talking, verbally or virtually (through your smartphone or other texting device), or talking to yourself in your own thoughts. Words, emanating from yourself in any form, internal or external, indicate that you are not truly listening. Total perception of the moment, including sounds coming from others perceived as structured words, or symbols visually perceived as letters strewed together in logical order – that is “listening”, with total and complete awareness.

Detachment from all is total perception – pure, simple attention of the moment. From that point, anything is possible, everything is free.

A weight settles deep in the pit of your hara when starting to take up ki slack. The space around the shoulders starts to settle, gaps in the inches around the body start to collapse, and an openness in the breath emerges. Parts of the body begin to settle and dissolve quicker than others, and the whole finds harmony, as when one watches the clouds diffuse in the sky.  Some dark clouds take longer than others to disappear, but eventually, one is left but with an open and vast blue sky. Those parts of the body that are still solid reveal something about your state and your balance. Pay attention, not in an attached, “go away will you” state of mind, but rather a “well, would you look at that. I wonder what this is telling me?”

Interesting to notice that when presented as a question, a gentle curiosity emerges, without attachment to the outcome, whereas, the former is attachment, goal oriented, and with tension to boot. Paraphrasing Tohei Sensei, “The one thing o’sensei taught was how to relax – nothing more”.  If a relaxed state is lost, then what is left is tension in the moment, moment to moment, and a feeling of heaviness and “stickiness”.

Our attachment matters much significantly from the inside; attachment to our thoughts, our feelings, our sensations, good to bad, hard to soft, hot to cold. These are always with us, and test us from second to second, hour to hour, year to year, and will be there for as long as breath is present.  Another great challenge, and a battle to welcome, for it is a great foe, are the attachments that the world around us present to us every waking moment.

Pretty things, sexy things, a passing glance, a smile, a frown, a look, an ugly moment, dark places, loud or odd sounds, smells, a hard chair, a cold floor or wind – a good book! Endless are the moments and signals (vibrations of all sorts, at all frequencies) that intersect our senses and our field of awareness. Any and all of these can intersect with our own vibrations, our own natural resonance – and either harmonize with ours for the moment, or attempt to shift our resonance to another frequency. This leads us to loose our center, and rely on external signals and vibrations to define wellness, peace and happiness.  In all of these instances, our ki is taken by the external actor – leading our mind, then our body, our voice, our movement.

When taking up ki slack, our ki is not taken, cannot be taken, preventing our natural resonance from being altered. We then may choose to extend our ki to a moment, an issue or an outcome – but it is by choice, not as the result of it being taken.

When taking up ki slack, the five principles of Aikido then arise.  These five principles at that moment describe the state of coordination of mind, body and spirit. They become not doors, but representations of the result of having harmony of mind body and spirit.  They then are a description, rather than a prescription.

True victory is self victory, right here right now.

Such a victory is the practice of non-attachment, as described above.


When an opponent comes forward, move in and greet him; if he wants to pull back, send him on his way.


Like the body, the mind and spirit also need an immune system. But unlike, the body, it is not biological, with t-cells and macrophages to attack foreign bodies and other invaders.  Rather, the immune system of the spirit is ki.  By deeply developing one’s ki, the spirit can be immune from ills and cease to be subject to mental and spiritual “viruses” and other ailments.

This immunity comes in two parts I believe. First, it comes through the state of complete relaxation more commonly felt through the taking up of ki slack – sometimes also considered as allowing the ki of the universe to enter and flow into our one point when it is fully relaxed.

The second component is extending the ki wherever it wishes to go, and as far as the spirit believes is necessary at the moment.  At rest, ki should extend slightly beyond ma-ai, maybe a few inches or so; with a bokken or Jo, a few inches beyond their reach when fully extended. Not at rest, well, the reach is as far as ones spirit chooses – the end of the universe – infinity – being a good starting point.

On the question of the one point, one should consider that it is not fixed, nor is it self-defining.  One’s ability to position it, and extend it, is defined through the extent of one’s training and practice.  A safe assumption is that the one point defaults to the seat of the hara, at which time it is infinitesimally small, but no less effective.    With practice, the hara can be put to any place within the body – and without – or be asked to expand and envelope the whole body, mind and spirit.
Such an enveloping and flow of ki I experienced some months ago. I awoke one night and found myself being enveloped by a glow that was like my one point had expanded and become the corona of my dynamic sphere. Within that sphere, I felt not only space and light, the flowing of ki like a warm stream, but a calmness and peace that allowed me to observe a mental state that had possessed me for quite some time – a hungry ghost.  This ghost, emerging from the darkness just outside the visible horizon, took the form of an eight legged creature – not surprising given my fear of spiders – incessant in its hunger to attack my spirit and mind.  Within my sphere of flowing ki, made slightly larger with a bokken at my side, a fully relaxed one point gave me the basis from which to take a quick upward stroke with the bokken to stop the beast in its advance.  Complete calmness was required to allow the creature to get close enough for a bokken. A rapid downward stroke severed the creature – which I now saw as the ego, the hungry ghost, the shadow which had haunted me, and would likely be forever a part of my existence.  As such, just beyond the horizon, another creature emerged – another upward strike followed by a downward strike – another kill.  And another, and another.  For several minutes, the creatures emerged from all directions, quicker, larger, more determined. Maintaining the expanded one point of flowing ki gave me the space to simply accept, wait patiently – then strike.  Another upward stroke, another downstroke for the kill, and another, and another.

Then silence.

In the silence, I reflected on what had just occurred.  I noticed that the courage, ability and strength to draw the bokken came from a point of peace and love. I reflected on the observation that if I had drawn the sword from a point of physical strength and energy, of fear, I may have succeeded in striking the first few creatures, but I would not have maintained the stamina to withhold the repeated onslaught. Only from the one point would the energy and space emerge to repeatedly strike the creature – the shadow, the ego, the hungry ghost.
The eight legged creature has been my own archetype for my worries, fears and phobias – a symbol of an enemy, a foreign body after not my body, and not really my mind, but more specifically after my spirit and my essence.

In the moment described above, the flow of ki, from a one point enveloping my whole being, became my protector.

Aikido, the art of peace, was my spiritual immunity.

Your spirit is the true shield.


Early on in my study of aikido, I had the opportunity to study with an aikikai school in Montreal. I found the two years a good experience but was left disappointed in that I did not feel like I was connecting with the subject matter per se. I’m not sure if it was the school or me. At the time, I was convinced it was the school. But reflecting on those moments, I’m sure it was more the lack of fit between my own journey and the school’s approach to teaching.

And so I spent the following years researching and reading – turning my practice into a study of philosophy rather than one of pins and rolls. It was in that period that I read Steven’s the philosophy of aikido.

In those pages I’ve found the most inspirational and insightful quote to impact my life: masakatsu agatsu, katsu ayami … True victory is self victory.

Stevens states that this was the answer O Sensei quoted every time he was asked the purpose of aikido. At first, I found the answer a bit simplistic, but as I’ve studied over the years, and read other texts, references and books of wisdom, I’ve found myself coming back to this quote, and finding it more profound and deep.

Today, it is felt in my body, and not understood in the intellectual sense. It resonates with the moments when I am fully present and when I am fully aware. As I take my practice forward, I find myself focusing more and more on these few words, and continue to better appreciate what O Sensei implied in his response.

A perfect example of simple, but not easy.

To close today, another wise person also expressed what I believe was the same essence when he stated:

… a person knows that whatever is wrong in the world is in himself, and if he only learns to deal with his own shadow, then he has done something real for the world. he has succeeded in removing an infinitesimal part of the unsolved gigantic problems of our day …

~ C.J. Jung

Aikido-: The word “aikido” is made up of three Japanese characters: AI; harmony, KI ; universal energy, DO ; the Way. So the proper definition for Aikido is “The way of harmony with universal energy.”

I recently finished reading the article Manage your Energy, not your Time, by Tony Schwartz and found myself drawing many parallels with my aikido practice, most notably with respect to how the four energy forms outlined by Schwartz overlapped and might in fact coincide with the four principles of aikido.

The four energy forms outlines by Schwartz included:


In summary, Schwartz argues that the various energy forms are constantly in flux and our challenge is to seek a level of balance and harmony between them. Schwartz contends that if you manage your energy, your productivity and output significantly increases. He also contends that in this context, you don’t manage your time, since time is finite and limited. Your energy is for all intents and purposes, much more abundant, renewable and can be accessed once we know how to balance it.

In assessing Schwartz’s work, a question came to me: could the four forms of energy be in fact one energy taking four different forms? Could the energy that Schwartz was advocating we manage better be in fact one energy, the life energy, manifesting in four different ways? If so, there might be a way to represent Schwartz’s four forms of energy against the Aikido principles that provide the way to harmony of mind, body and spirit.

At Ryurei Aikido, the four principles developed by Koichi Tohei are extended to include a fifth principle in “detach from all”.  Again, the principles are:

keep one point
keep weight underside
relax completely
extend ki
detach from all

Through some reflections of my various moments on the mat when the ki was or was not flowing, and harmony was blocked by some issue with energy (ki), I’ve come up with the following proposed relationship between the Aikido principles and the four energy forms. I’ve observed that primary and secondary relationships may exist as well – in essence, each energy form is primarily associated with each Aikido principle, and an alternate energy is also associated, although on a secondary level.

As an example, keeping weight underside (Aikido principle #2) is primarily impacted by the balance of our physical energy. Poor physical energy may result in difficulties in manifesting keeping weight underside. Similarly, weakened spiritual energy may also interfere with achieving effective keeping weight underside.

Although I’ve observed in my own practice the blocking of energy leading to difficulties in manifesting certain principles, I’ve been much more intrigued by the opposite implication: that achieving one of the four principles (and hence all of them, since if you achieve one, you achieve them all) leads to a balance of the four energies. In other words, achieve harmony of mind, body and spirit through full manifestation of the four + one principles, and one can achieve harmony and balance of the four energies outlined by Schwartz. Interestingly, achieving the fifth principle – detach from all – may bring all four energies together at once – possible given that detachment from all in effect liberates us from all external factors, allowing internal energies of mind, body, spirit and heart (mental, physical, spiritual and emotional) to naturally fall into equilibrium.

Observe how your energies are harmonized during practice and note how each may or may not be impacted by your choice of principle, or vice versa, how the four + one Aikido principles bring one or more of the energies into a balanced state. I propose that you consider Aikido as the way of harmony not only with the energy of the universe, but the various forms that universal energy might take in our daily live. In that context, a further dimension of the impact of Aikido can be explored.

I recently read “this is aikido” by Koichi Tohei, and was struck by one portion where he wrote about the relevance of the four principles to one’s state of mind and the behaviors anchored by each of the principles. Although simple to list, I find a resonance between the principles and the challenges I sometimes face on the mat, or off it. For example, when not feeling positive, extending Ki appears to bring a positive mindset quickly to the fore. Keeping weight underside is hugely helpful when there are tough decisions to make at the office or at home. Relaxing completely makes me open and receptive to ideas or thoughts that may not at first glance align with my values and principles. And keeping one point appears to keep one’s mind focused and in the moment.

In summary, from this is aikido by Koichi Tohei :

keep one point

unity of mind

immovable mind

extend ki

positive mind

power of will

keep weight underside



relax completely



Be like a ball floating down a roaring river. Thrown about, sometimes taken by the undertow, maybe floating aimlessly, the ball never ceases but to float and respond to the moment, in a state of dynamic balance.

Some years ago, I read Aikido and the Dynamic Sphere, and of the many ideas and lessons I took from the text, the one that stuck most with me was the idea of flowing like a ball along the earth. By imagining the hara as the center of the ball, I’ve come to see myself somedays on the mat as having a stable, relaxed core, surrounded by a dynamic shell of kI that can adapt to the moment and the motion of my center. By thinking, or even better, feeling, that my hara is always supported by some shell of Ki, I’ve recovered myself more than once in moments where balance or attention have waned.

More recently, I’ve taken the practice of envisioning myself as a ball floating down a roaring river. Unlike the hard earth, feeling like I’m floating is, for me, more like the feeling I frequently get when on the mat. There is a buoyancy that comes when the feeling if the one point is balanced upon the ground immediately below. As I’m pushed or pulled by Uke, I remain afloat, maybe sinking a bit, maybe bobbing, but always in a state of dynamic balance.

As a dynamic sphere floating on the torrents of the moment, I don’t worry about the big waves, the impending waterfall or the roaring rivers ahead. The feeling of being in dynamic balance is enough. At that point, technique emerges from the point of calmness and stillness, seeking to maintain and support this state of balance.

So next time you step onto the mat, or into the world, enjoy the feeling of the dynamic sphere and float.

“If one puts his mind in the action of his opponent’s body, his mind will be taken by the action of his opponent’s body. If he puts his mind in his opponent’s sword, his mind will be taken by that sword. If he puts his mind in thoughts of his opponent’s intention to strike him, his mind will be taken by thoughts of his opponent’s intention to strike him. If he puts his mind in his own sword, his mind will be taken by his own sword. If he puts his mind in his own intention of not being struck, his mind will be taken by his intention of not being struck. If he puts his mind in the other man’s stance, his mind will be taken by the other man’s stance. What this means is that there is no place to put the mind.”
-The Mysterious Record of Unmovable Wisdom
The Unfettered Mind, Takuan Sōhō

In the fifteenth century, a three-part treatise on Buddhist philosophy and martial arts was written by Takuan Sōhō, a Japanese monk of the Rinzai sect. The treatise was written as correspondence to Yagyū Munenori, inheritor to the Yagyū Shinkage-ryū school of swordsmanship. Given the relationship between Aikido and swordmanship, Takuan Sōhō’s work was a logical place to explore the possibly inspirations for Aikido,. More specifically, it was a place to seek guidance on how to deal with my own failings in grasping the first principle of “keeping one point”. Although the treatise is over 500 years old, it arguably provides valuable insights that can guide today’s Aikidoka in the pursuit of mastery and harmony.

The opening words above speak directly to the first of the five principles of Ryurei Aikido – keeping one point. We learn early on that if we get one principle, we get them all. As such, no single principle should dominate the others. Any of them is a door to the way of Aikido. Nonetheless, the first principle has been, at least for me, and I fathom to guess for others, an elusive principle to grasp and internalize in its truest sense.

Putting the mind at one point is, like all principles, both a mental and physical challenge. But putting the mind to one point has been, for me, like asking my mind to tell itself to sit down. As such, if it does not want to listen or cooperate…well…it can make for a long and sometimes frustrating session. Takuan Sōhō’s opening words emphasizes that letting the mind attach to anything such as thoughts and movements for example, will result in it being taken by that same thing – hence why the importance of keeping the mind at one point.

This is exactly how I perceived the principle for some time, and after some serious practice coercing and manipulating my mind to go the one point, I started to finally feel what it might take to keep the mind at one point. After all, the principle appears to be relatively straight forward – n’est ce pas?

Of course not. And Takuan Sōhō shines a light on why when he writes:

“If you consider putting your mind below your navel and not letting it wander, your mind will be taken by the mind that thinks of this plan. You will have no ability to move ahead and will exceptionally unfree”.

Unfree! Indeed, my mind was not feeling as free as I was thinking it should – so where do I put my mind now? Do I put it back to the attacker? Do I find myself a new Hara and put it there? Do I take up macramé? Then it struck me: what if I put my mind to the one point and forget about it – wait, that sounds exactly like something Sensei told me on repeated occasions. Ahhh…maybe that’s what he meant!

And so I reflected on all this and decided: what if I use “keeping one point” to simply remind the mind (or “re-mind” the mind) to go where it naturally needs and wants to go, where it is fully present and not distracted and scattered by the stimulus of the world. To assist, I attempted to apply to the first principle a Buddhist tenet I had studied for a few years: non-attachment (if it sounds like “detach from all”, you might be right). My practice of the first principle has consequently become the following: re-mind the mind to go to the one point then let the mind go free, not in a scattered way, but rather like the ripples across a quiet pond after a pebble falls in – fully detached from when the pebble went “plop”.

All this said, I also questioned why we choose the hara as the “one point”? For me, it is due to the critical importance of balance and centering in aikido, like in life in general, which makes the hara the natural place to begin – and to return to. So by re-minding myself constantly to go to the hara, at one point (yes, pun intended) I might find myself mindful enough to perform tankan or other Aikido movements with some refinement, or at the least perform daily tasks such as tying my shoes with a bit more mindfulness.

As for the 500 year-old teaching, Takuan Sōhō did speak quite clearly to the challenge of freeing the mind when he wrote:

“Well, then, where does one put his mind?” … “If you don’t put it anywhere, it will go to all parts of your body and extend throughout its entirety. In this way, when it enters your hand, it will realize the hand’s function. When it enters your foot, it will realize the foot’s function. When it enters your eye, it will realize the eye’s function.”

So don’t put the mind anywhere – and you may be one step closer to keeping one point. Just don’t get attached to not putting your mind anywhere…