Between “sincere” and “true” there is a connection, but also a significant difference. Something more than a lexical nuance, which closely concerns Aikido, Martial Arts, and ultimately everything we do.

The practice of Aikido is permeated by terminology and stock phrases, often overused. One of these concerns the definition of the “sincere uke.” It only takes a little time on the tatami -and especially in a pub after training sessions and seminars with fellow practitioners and teachers- to be overwhelmed by endless discussions about the role of the training partner. Inevitably, our ears will bleed from listening to infinite tirades about uke’s sincerity.

A clear intention, expressed through n accurate and consistent line of attack, is the best fuel for studying techniques and the principles underlying them.

It often happens, especially in the early years of practice and during seminars, to meet oppositional uke who are actually training partners attacking with an intention that changes every second. As a result, techniques often cannot be completed not so much because of lack of skill (which exists at any level), but because of the absence of clean fuel capable of giving life to what we call Aikido.

Who hasn’t, for example, had their wrist grabbed by an uke who, at the slightest movement, began to vibrate, shift, and resist?

Sincerity and clarity can certainly be connected, but they are not automatically so. Just as it is possible for a person to attack with extreme geometric clarity without this making them a sincere individual.

And even if one were to become both clear and sincere, would that be enough to make what we do- and what we are- true?

The discussion could slide toward grand theories -which are important- but we believe that to reach the summit of thought and values one must always start from the concreteness of foundations and experience.

We like to think that our practice not only contains but is based on universal principles, and that our practical “dialect” is a sincere manifestation of them. It should be so, but it is not always so.

It is enough to change the context of practice to realize this. Or to attend national gatherings of the various organizations that bring together different technical lineages. What works at home begins to creak and waver. And it is not always possible to invoke the easy excuse that uke is not sincere. Just as it is not always correct to dismiss everything by blaming the practitioner’s lack of skill for their frustration.

Clarity and sincerity inevitably lead the practitioner to come to terms with truth.

So far, our experience has revealed three broad attitudes -both didactic and personal- across different tatami.

There are those who explicitly speak of “verifying” their Aikido, in an almost etymological sense: putting technical competence to the test. Powerful attacks, solid grips, and… let’s see if you can throw me. Given human nature, such approach -which has its own logic -inevitably pushes a person toward competitiveness. The rational and reasonable use of strength is not the problem. The problem is that the nature of Aikido is not competitive not because the Founder did not want competitions, but because he understood that a practice aimed at winning at all costs magnifies the ego rather than regulating it.

There are those who pursue formal perfection through teaching and practice. Repetition of a kata becomes the reference for verifying practice. Understood as an “absolute” reference, kata has the merit of making practice objective. However, teaching is the moment when what is objective passes through the subjective competence of the teacher and is addressed to other people. The result is making form, if not an idol, then probably an unattainable reference: a geometric totem to which aspects no less important and foundational to practice are sacrificed -first and foremost sensitivity and connection.

Finally, there are those who amplify the effect that practice has on the emotional and cognitive dimension of the individual. In this perspective, when practice over time yields increased focus, empathy, and relaxation, this becomes a confirmation of truthfulness. In some way, it is indirect proof that the discipline contains something that enhances wellbeing. The greatest temptation here is the individualistic and inward drift of practice. Only what the individual feels exists, opening the door to mental projections and to a representation of the discipline that not only horrifies the “hardliners,” but also loses every element of objectivity, diluting tradition to the point of losing its recognizability.

Such perspectives -as well as a balanced mix of them- all have their foundation. However, respectively, testing through strength, repeating and pursuing form, and increasing wellbeing are not definitions of truth, even when all this is done sincerely.

Therefore, we can spend an entire lifetime -on the tatami and outside the Dojo- speaking sincere words and performing intrinsically sincere actions, whose value has meaning within our circle of practice and relationships, while never having a constant experience of truth. An experience that cannot be partial or local, because truth either is whole or it is not.

This is how the usefulness of a martial discipline as particular as Aikido reveals itself to practitioners of every age and level. A path that does not possess truth, but accompanies the whole person in laying the foundations to intuit its presence, existence, and accessibility.

Aikido as a trainer in the search, and as a facilitator of clarity and sincerity, which can prepare the ground for the attitude of knowing how to seek, recognize, and safeguard this personal encounter -worth more than any treasure, any dan grade, or any technical competence.

Discalimer: Picture by James Wheeler from Pexels