What if we began to look at our activities as though we were guardians of segments of life?

School, professional experiences, relationships. It is no coincidence that we speak of stages of life: a continuous flow, a road made up of distinct stretches that, despite -or perhaps because of- their differences, connect with one another.

This is especially evident during childhood and adolescence. On one hand, there is physical growth, which seems unstoppable until adulthood, transforming a tiny three-kilogram newborn into an eighty-kilogram teenager within a few years. On the other hand, there is a succession of clearly defined segments, often shaped by the educational system: nursery, kindergarten, primary school, and so on.

Perhaps out of a need to organize society, or perhaps in an attempt to frame something as vast as life itself, we confine our time within segments. Portions of life devoted to seeking some form of stability -emotional, economic, or physical. Sections in which we cultivate our time, tame our energy, and give shape and direction to our path.

Looking back on these stretches, we realize that much of our development is owed to those who knew how to care for the segment we call school, for example. We recognize how deeply those competent and caring guardians influenced us. Unfortunately, the opposite is also true whenever incompetence or immaturity leaves those segments neglected and disordered.

This happens in every phase of life, both in our relationships with others and in our relationship with ourselves.

This is where the practice of a discipline can help. It becomes difficult to fully live a segment of our existence if we lack the ability to understand and direct the inevitable inner conflicts we encounter. The ancient inscription on the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, γνῶθι σεαυτόν -“know thyself”- is mirrored in the Eastern invitation to “empty your cup” so that you may receive what a teacher has to offer. Both point toward the first and most fundamental step toward a fulfilling life: learning to become guardians of ourselves.

As practitioners, we are responsible for making the best use of the time spent in practice, becoming guardians not only of our own experience but also of that of our fellow practitioners.

As teachers, we have a duty not to lose our own way if we truly feel responsible for providing an environment that supports the search undertaken by those who place their trust in us. This means being available and open without becoming imposing. It means continually giving meaning to our shared journey and indicating a direction. A direction that does not point toward the teacher, but toward the essential need to understand, transform, and improve everyday life.

As managers within the organizations and movements to which we belong, being guardians means first and foremost ensuring that everyone has access to practice, and that the institutions we represent may -not must– serve as a home where individuals can express their own technical approach and fulfill their natural inclinations.

To safeguard these segments also means accepting that they have both a beginning and an end, while working to ensure that when one experience concludes, others may emerge from it -experiences capable of addressing the many needs of society through the principles embodied in a discipline.

In Aikido, as in any discipline, we must be careful to preserve the fire rather than the ashes. It is worth remembering that a little more than a century ago Aikido did not even exist, and there is no certainty that it will still exist a century from now. It may be called something else. Or it may continue unchanged.

Yet if what we call Aikido still exists tomorrow, it will be because today we have been capable of safeguarding its principles and making them accessible, understandable, and useful both to ourselves and to those we meet along the way.

Disclaimer: Picture by Brett Sayles from Pexels