Which should we choose, quality or quantity? This is not only a poorly framed question but, in the end, a somewhat useless one.

Between a single banknote fresh from the Mint and Uncle Scrooge’s vault full of crumpled yet perfectly spendable bills, no one would hesitate.

On a less material and more relational level, anyone would prefer to have a few loyal, trustworthy, and faithful friends rather than be surrounded by indifferent and distracted people.

And finally, in the realm of health, isn’t it better to rely fully on a proven, competent M.D. rather than wander aimlessly through grandmother’s remedies, advice, online forums, and… ChatGPT?

Three simple examples across three foundational areas of human existence: relationships, health, and resources that sustain life. These examples show how the importance we assign to either quantity or quality depends on the context.

Yet, we have been gradually accustomed to absolutizing these two concepts, especially quality.

In industry and services, “total quality” is now a standard, at least for companies that truly compete. This standard, theorized in the United States, was applied in practice by Japanese manufacturers. Kaizen -the concept of continuous improvement- is a fundamental part of Japanese culture.

In relationships -once portrayed in movies, now in real life- there is much talk about prioritizing “quality time” over merely being together.

Is that really the case? Or rather: is quality objectively a goal to pursue at all costs? In a world where we are all consumers, we are overwhelmed by a massive quantity of products, often of low quality but much more affordable. Bye bye, quality!

Does a child truly feel fulfilled after “two hours of quality time” with a parent they no longer live with?

Martial Arts, like the rest of human experience, carry the oscillation between these two extremes. Some environments emphasize doing -doing a lot– while others focus on how, on technical quality.

Every practitioner, including those responsible for teaching, swings like a pendulum between these two zones. There are seasons in practice (and teaching) when one is drawn more to quantity or feels compelled to pass it on to students. Other times, one performs a more careful analysis.

Aikido embodies the importance of grounding, fluidity, and integration of movement but gives no specific instructions on how to achieve these goals. The same applies to using the concepts of quantity and quality functionally for growth.

Not only do we believe that staying fixed at one extreme is harmful and limiting for the practitioner -this is obvious- but we also think that oscillating between the two poles does not resolve in a grounded balance.

Where quantity is measurable, quality is measured indirectly. When quality provides improvement indicators (for example, errors from incorrectly executed movements), one easily falls back into practice based solely on repetition.

A third dimension is needed -a way that transcends both the measure of quantity and the subjective opinion of quality, and opens to the fundamental question:

For whom do I practice?

“For whom,” not “why.” The reason is simple. Asking why seeks an explanation and, if we are not careful, can distort both how and how much -or worse, become a mere imitation.

Reflecting on the “who” at the center of the training process, session after session, becomes essential, necessary, fundamental.

Some may object, quoting Morihei Ueshiba:

Progress comes to those who practice and practice; relying on secret techniques gets you nowhere.

But we must remember that for a Japanese practitioner, practicing refers to keiko, a continuous reflection between who we are today and the version that emerges from yesterday’s training. Ueshiba defined it as:

To practice Aikido fully, one must calm the spirit and return to the origin.

An origin that lies beyond quantity and quality, focusing on the “who” for whom it is worth stepping onto the tatami, falling and rising, exerting effort, accepting not understanding, having patience, and knowing how to stay quiet.

古より
文武の道は
両輪と
稽古の徳に
身魂悟りぬ

Since ancient times, the way of knowledge and martial mastery has been like two balanced wheels, advancing society. Through the merits and virtues of keiko, body and spirit awaken.

As Morihei Ueshiba wrote: knowledge transcends martial mastery and is an encounter -not a technique, nor a formula.

Disclaimer: AI generated picture