The Largest Gathering of Aikido in Korea
I attended the 32nd Korea Aikido Federation National Aikido Demonstration Competition.
It is the largest Aikido event held annually in Korea.
For new members, it becomes a place to meet Aikido instructors from all over the country and exchange greetings—a well-known “Aikido matchmaking spot,” so to speak—and for advanced practitioners, it’s also a place to share ideas with many others who are currently exploring the same direction in Aikido that they themselves are pursuing.
And this year, the master of Korean Aikido, Chairman Yoon Dae-hyun’s teacher.
Kobayashi Yasuo Sensei, 8th dan and head instructor of the Kobayashi Dojo, visited Korea.
I still vividly remember training under Kobayashi Sensei back in the day, but time really does fly. He is now a spry 90-year-old.
I think it’s precisely because Kobayashi Yasuo Sensei existed that Korean Aikido is what it is today.
And the very fact that Kobayashi Yasuo Sensei personally came to Korea made this year’s demonstration an event that absolutely could not be missed.
Martial Arts with a Target – External Motivation
On the way to the demonstration, I had a conversation with one of our dojo members about “reasons for motivation.”
I’ve long had an interest in archery (Guggung, traditional Korean archery), and while chatting with this member, I found out that they had practiced traditional Korean archery for a long time. They shared memories of traveling to attend archery competitions on the way to demonstration events.
I’ve always thought I’d like to try archery myself someday, but I never had the chance to actually find a range.
But after this conversation, I was naturally given an introduction, and I decided to actually give archery a try.
I haven’t tried it yet, but just from hearing about it, it seemed like the world of archery and the world of Aikido stand in such stark contrast, and each of their distinct characters came through clearly.
It might seem like an all-too-obvious statement, but.
Archery has a target.
Whether or not an arrow hits the target is extremely clear. How many shots you fire and how many hit the mark are recorded, and based on those results, the next stage is determined. Even the practitioner can very clearly confirm just how much they have progressed.
It’s extremely intuitive.
In fact, it is so intuitive that it can be brutally honest. Shooting five arrows and hitting all five on target is called “Mongi,” and only when you record a “Mongi” do you achieve “Jeopjang.” Once you achieve Jeopjang, you gain the qualification to attempt the 1st Dan (grade).
I heard about people who had been struggling for years without ever passing this stage.
Everything is focused on the target. Everything revolves around the target.
Fundamentally, everything is driven by “external motivation” through the target.
A Martial Art Without a Target – Internal Motivation
Aikido, however, is exactly the opposite.
Aikido too has ranks and dan grades. There are exams, and there are demonstration events.
There are also technical standards set through the World Headquarters and the Kobayashi Dojo.
The form of the techniques gradually improves, and there are experiences where movements that were once difficult suddenly become natural at some point.
There are also people who experience extreme situations where they escape danger through Aikido techniques.
But none of that is well expressed in numbers. There is no quantitative score generated.
There are grade levels and testing dates, but they do not represent an absolute measure the way a target does in archery.
There’s no count of how many times you’ve thrown down your opponent, and there’s no standard saying you must successfully perform a technique within a certain number of seconds.
There’s no winning a match and earning a medal.
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This may well be the very thing beginners find most bewildering when they first start Aikido.
People generally prefer results that are visible to the eye.
Having a goal and receiving a reward upon achieving it makes it easier to endure the difficult process.
When records improve, or rankings rise, when a match is decided by victory or defeat, or when an arrow strikes the target right in front of your eyes, a reason to try again is created.
But Aikido doesn’t have that kind of external motivation compared to the arrow of archery, at least not to the same degree.
Even after training earnestly, it’s not something you can show off to someone, nor does it end simply with having mastered a single technique. A technique you thought you had mastered with difficulty becomes awkward again the moment your partner changes, and even as you feel you understand what it means to “relax your strength,” you suddenly discover that your whole body is tense.
It’s difficult. It’s not intuitive. Even basic movements are not easy to follow.
As Many Kinds of Internal Motivation as There Are People
At this demonstration, I was deeply moved watching the performances of Hayashi Fusako Sensei and Casahara Yuji Sensei.
Even among the same Kobayashi lineage, the flavor of Korean and Japanese demonstrations differed so greatly.
The demonstrations from Korea were careful and cautious.
It’s not that the technical dynamism was lacking, but rather it felt as though they had set their own boundaries for what kind of demonstration they would allow themselves, and were moving only within those limits. Even within the Aikido system, which was created precisely to avoid competition, it felt as though there was still a technical rivalry taking place. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing either. It is a driving force that allows for steady growth.
But at the Japanese-side demonstrations, I could see the performances of those who had found “their own internal motivation.”
To put it in one word, I could say it looked “so much more free.”
Ordinarily, external motivation is offered by the organizers who host a training session. It becomes the motivation that starts one’s practice. It is the core principle that governs that practice.
It was a dynamic performance in which two people, gripping each other’s throats, threw one another toward the audience.
But internal motivation is different for every single person. There are as many kinds of internal motivation as there are people. In the performance of Hayashi Fusako Sensei. In the beautiful teamwork of Hayashi Riogun. In the performance of Casahara Yuji Sensei. In the joyful two-person throw where they act out an argument and hurl each other toward the audience. In the performance of Yoon Dae-hyun Sensei. In a husband-and-wife demonstration where, even while playfully bickering, you can feel the intimacy that only a married couple shares.
And in the performance of a 90-year-old senior teacher whose smile never faded, we saw as many different kinds of internal motivation as there were people who allowed us to gather here in this place.
And Kobayashi Yasuo Sensei, who proves that fact in person.
“I’m Glad Aikido Turned Out This Way for Me”
In their performances, I saw a clear “something” that seemed to say, “I’m glad Aikido turned out this way for me!!” Through practicing Aikido for a long time, they had discovered where their own joy lay, and it felt as if they were showing that joy to everyone in their own way.
More than the form of the demonstration. More than the structure of the demonstration. More than the technique of the demonstration.
The joy and heart of the practitioner came through first.
Perhaps that is precisely the appearance of the internal motivation that allows one to practice Aikido for a long time. It’s not about a goal set from outside, but rather about coming to know which part of Aikido you personally love, and then, little by little, deepening that discovery through practice and performance.
What a 90-Year-Old’s Demonstration Showed Us
Watching Kobayashi Yasuo Sensei’s lecture and demonstration, whose birthday happened to fall on this occasion, I thought about this even more deeply.
The age of 80 alone speaks volumes. And more than that, this is the birthday of a person who has not merely trained for a while in their youth, but who has pursued a single martial path for their entire life.
Because Kobayashi Yasuo Sensei existed, Korean Aikido exists.
And there was no doubt at all that the very presence of Kobayashi Yasuo Sensei had become a powerful internal motivation for every single member of Korean Aikido gathered here today.
At Kobayashi Yasuo Sensei’s 80th birthday training session, watching the 80-year-old senior teacher personally demonstrate and teach the techniques was already remarkable, but seeing the Sensei still leading training sessions and still personally teaching the techniques even at 90 years old, there would surely be no one who wasn’t moved.
Kobayashi Sensei’s demonstration didn’t seem to be about showing off some kind of accomplishment, but rather it felt like he was showing us just how far, and for how long, a person can walk down a single path. The very fact that we were training alongside Kobayashi Sensei was itself an answer.
A Victory Completed on the Mat
Finally, I cannot leave out the performance of Vice President Moon Young-chan of Jeju Province.
Even amid a long battle with cancer that has become prolonged, he still got up on the mat and completed his demonstration. Many people watching that movement were moved to tears. The very fact that the Vice President demonstrated on the mat even while fighting cancer was itself a demonstration of victory, and a demonstration that moved everyone. Seeing him fighting his illness so bravely gave us a deeper impression than any victory in any match. It was a moment to cheer for his recovery.
Applause continued from the beginning to the end of the performance.
We wish him a full recovery.
The Destination of Aikido
Where is the destination of Aikido?
Is it perfecting the technique? Is it becoming stronger? Is it obtaining a high rank?
Or is it achieving the “World Peace” that founder Morihei Ueshiba spoke of, an ideal that no single individual could ever complete alone?
Or perhaps it’s the path toward realizing an Aikido so complete it cannot be summed up simply by declaring “this is Aikido”?
Perhaps, in the end, there may not be a definite answer to this question at all.
What I witnessed at this year’s National Aikido Demonstration Competition was not flashy techniques or perfected movements.
It was the performances of people who had discovered which part of Aikido they personally loved,
and it was the figure of a martial artist who, even at his advanced age, stood before others in a dobok.
It was the figure of a victor overcoming a long battle with illness through training.
The hearts of every one of those people were conveyed to us so vividly.
May We Be Able to Continue Aikido Even at 90
“I hope that all of you, too, will be able to continue Aikido even at 90!!”
These words, urged upon us by Kobayashi Yasuo Sensei, have stayed with me deep in my heart the whole time since.
Yes. I will make sure that happens. I will definitely make it so.
To everyone who attended the 32nd National Aikido Demonstration Competition, I send you my greetings.
Such a touching post! I really enjoyed reading it.
You’ll definitely be able to do it. Let’s do a demonstration together to celebrate your 100th birthday someday.
I read your post and found it really moving. One of the reasons I love Aikido is that it’s a “path of freedom.” Within all its diversity—intensity and severity, joy and connection, power and precision, destructive force and consideration—this unity of contradictions moves toward the ultimate beauty of love and freedom. That’s probably why, once you fall into it, you can never get out.