Kagan Arik began learning Ki-Aikido while attending the University of Pennsylvania almost by accident. There, he trained under Hal Abramson Sensei, from whom he learned fundamentals. When he moved to Seattle, Washington, Arik started training with Koichi Kashiwaya Sensei and was exposed to different approaches that opened him to the different possibilities of Ki-Aikido. Arik later relocated to Chicago and teaches at the University of Chicago Ki-Aikido Club. Today, Arik took some time to talk about Ki Society in America, some of the prolific teachers of the style, and how there are more similarities than differences. All images provided by Kagan Arik. This interview is the first part of a two part interview. View the second part here.
Martial Arts of Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow: Hello and welcome Arik Sensei! Thank you for joining us today!
Kagan Arik: It is a pleasure to be here.
MAYTT: You started Ki-Aikido in 1985. What was it about the art that piqued your interest and what continues to motivate you to train today?
KA: I started training aikido somewhat unintentionally, while attending the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. I had previously practiced judo in high school. Being of compact stature, judo had suited me perfectly. Upon arriving at college, I sought to continue my judo training and headed to the gym. In those days, without the internet, discovering activities meant physically exploring. I stumbled upon a group of people dressed in dogi entering a room. Assuming they were there for judo practice, I decided to follow them. As a freshman, I trailed behind and soon realized it wasn’t quite judo they were practicing. I was intrigued, and they invited me to join and see for myself. That’s when we began kokyu dosa. From that moment, I was captivated. I found myself unable to budge someone even slighter and skinnier than myself. It was a revelation; he effortlessly maneuvered me while I struggled to move him. I was consumed by curiosity, eager to unravel the mystery behind this apparent magic.
And so, that was the beginning of my journey into aikido. I should also mention that before I started in that dojo, I had also practiced Yoshinkan Aikido for a year in another campus club. I then had a traffic accident, which had me out of commission for a year, and when I healed, that dojo had moved far away. Since I had no transportation at the time, I went with another dojo that I found on campus, which was the University of Pennsylvania Ki-Aikido Club. So, I started in a university club.
So, what kept me motivated to stay? Well, firstly, I was fascinated by the concept of ki and the idea of harmonizing mind and body. This approach to martial arts, which, in my immature mind, seemed different from the usual image of fighting, emphasized redirecting the opponent’s actions and potentially utilizing them against them, although later I discovered it wasn’t always necessary. The crispness and efficiency of aikido, along with its emphasis on applying that state of mind-body coordination to daily life, appealed to me. While this aspect became clearer as I matured, when I first began, I was fascinated by an art form that didn’t rely on physical size for advantage. Being agile and somewhat compact myself, aikido felt well-suited to my physique. I fell in love with it.
Furthermore, I noticed that after a practice session, I felt immensely energized and refreshed, rather than tired. It quickly became a source of both physical and mental well-being for me, greatly assisting with my studies and other pursuits at the time. So, beyond just the martial arts skills, aikido offered a sense of well-being which I later understood to be mind-body coordination, and that proved invaluable in various aspects of my life. I hope that answers your question.
MAYTT: You did; thank you. How would you characterize the training you experienced in the university club?
KA: As it was a university club, our membership comprised mostly students, primarily undergraduates, with some graduate students and even a few faculty members and older individuals. Training sessions brimmed with energy and movement, reflecting the early days of the Ki Society, not long after the formal split in 1974. This was around 1985, so relatively soon after. We held three classes a week, which, though not numerous, were packed with enthusiasm. The core group, constituting about three-quarters of the dojo’s thirty members, was dedicated. Attendance was excellent; I can’t recall missing a single class since I began. Such was our zeal that our sensei, Hal Abramson Sensei, decided to introduce an extra Friday class exclusively for us, the hardcores, allowing us to indulge in our passion for throwing each other around. It was a spirited environment, characterized by a strong sense of community and camaraderie among members.
Because it was a university dojo, we didn’t have a permanent structure to associate with. We had a room that was used by other people at other times of the day. When it was our time, we would go, set up, clean up, and then train, and then clean up again. The dojo was more of an abstract entity rather than a building. It was accessible financially because it was a university club – there were symbolic, tiny dues that we paid every semester so we all could afford it.
Another significant factor shaping our club’s training was its location in West Philadelphia, near the University of Pennsylvania campus. During that time, West Philly was known for its high crime rate, making self-defense skills a vital asset. Almost daily, someone we knew faced an attack, underscoring the practical importance of what we were learning. Our teacher, aside from emphasizing the usual principles of mind-body coordination and aikido as a martial art, also stressed the importance of self-defense and the applicability of techniques in real-life situations. Though the quotation marks can’t be heard on tape, it’s worth noting that this aspect was integral to my training during my initial years at the University of Pennsylvania.
Hal Abramson Sensei was a remarkable individual – kind and approachable, yet also instilling a sense of awe. On one hand, he held a prestigious position as a high-ranking judge on the Pennsylvania Supreme Court. On the other hand, he possessed extensive training in modern military arts, along with expertise in other disciplines, although this remained somewhat mysterious, since he didn’t talk about it. He was a well-rounded martial artist and person, exhibiting intelligence and sophistication. Abramson Sensei also imparted insights regarding the legal implications of practicing martial arts outside the controlled environment of the dojo. He emphasized the importance of understanding and taking responsibility for the consequences of our actions beyond the training mat.
MAYTT: You mentioned earlier that Ki-Aikido had not changed much from the official split in 1974, at least from what you experienced. How have you seen Ki-Aikido change or evolve since you first started training?
KA: When I initially began training, the requirements for each kyu rank test were more numerous. For instance, for fifth kyu, I recall having to demonstrate around ten techniques and perform a one-man randori. In contrast, the current standards involve just four techniques, with randori not starting until brown belt level in the Ki Society. It’s possible that my understanding was quite limited at the time, though it remains somewhat limited even now. Initially, it seemed to me that we engaged in ki training to enhance our aikido skills. However, later perspectives suggested the inverse: that we practiced aikido to gain a deeper understanding of ki training.
Those would be the main differences. Additionally, I prefer not to draw direct comparisons between the specific case of the university dojo where I began and the broader array of Ki Society dojos worldwide. After graduating from the University of Pennsylvania, I pursued graduate studies in Seattle, WA, where I became a student of Koichi Kashiwaya Sensei. Upon joining his dojo, I encountered several senior students who had trained under another sensei prior to Kashiwaya Sensei. Upon observing my execution of techniques, they advised me to temper my intensity. Coming from a more self-defense-oriented background in West Philadelphia, I may have been perceived as perhaps overly aggressive, albeit unintentionally so. Their guidance was warranted, as I was still quite young and thought that speed equated to effectiveness, compensating for my relative lack of brawn. However, with exposure to other Ki Society dojos, I gradually realized that there was a more holistic approach to aikido – one that considered various factors beyond sheer velocity. It turned out that correct timing was more important than speed. Through this exposure, my perspective broadened, leading to a better understanding over time.
MAYTT: What aspects of Ki-Aikido did Kashiwaya illuminate for you at the time and help you better understand Ki-Aikido?
KA: Certainly. When reflecting on my perceptions then versus now, there are undoubtedly differences. Over time, my understanding has expanded considerably. However, back then, I distinctly recall Kashiwaya Sensei’s unparalleled precision and crispness. My previous sensei was exceptional in his own right, yet Kashiwaya Sensei possessed a unique presence that left a profound impression. I was mesmerized by his ability to seemingly manipulate time itself. His extension of ki transcended mere visual perception, leading to numerous uncanny experiences. While I could share many anecdotes, perhaps it’s best not to delve too deeply into that direction.
One of the key lessons I’ve learned is the emphasis on hitori waza in the Ki Society method. Hitori waza are solo exercises that allow you to train without a partner. However, a challenge arises: how do you evaluate and improve your own hitori waza? The answer lies in the four basic principles of Shin Shin Toitsu Aikido: one point, ki extension, weight underside, and complete relaxation, though not necessarily in that order. By gradually developing your inner sensei, you can self-assess your practice and ensure correct form, using the four basic principles as guidelines.
Hitori waza, when assembled, evolve into aikido techniques. They aren’t merely about executing moves against an opponent but about engaging with oneself – directing one’s mind and body, understanding them intimately before any external interaction occurs. This aspect proved invaluable during the covid lockdown, enabling my current dojo to continue training via Zoom sessions for nearly a year. Despite the limitations of a two-dimensional screen, practicing hitori waza enhanced our sensitivity and deepened our understanding.
Initially, I had underestimated hitori waza, viewing them as just warm-ups before the “real action” of throwing partners. Yet, over time, I’ve come to recognize their significance as the foundation of Ki-Aikido arts. Even in recent years at instructor camps with Kashiwaya Sensei, we’ve consistently focused on mastering the basics of hitori waza. After all, if the basics aren’t solid, our techniques will inevitably suffer. Ultimately, Aikido isn’t about overpowering opponents; it’s about mastering oneself – leading one’s mind and body in the correct manner. From there, interaction with others naturally unfolds. However, we always remember that aikido is a martial art, grounded in discipline and respect.
MAYTT: It seems that Kashiwaya showed you a lot more about ki and what it can do.
KA: Abramson Sensei already got us started on that. Since I had more time – I spent eleven years in Seattle with Kashiwaya Sensei – I’ve continued to be his student since then, except now I’ve moved to Chicago. One more thing about Kashiwaya Sensei is weapons. He is an incredible master of sword and jo. I have to confess, when I first started out, I didn’t really like practicing with the jo. Now I love to train with it after learning with Kashiwaya Sensei.
MAYTT: That brings up a side question: how much emphasis does Ki-Aikido have on weapons’ work?
KA: Absolutely, the significance of weapons training can vary from one dojo and chief instructor to another, though basic jo and bokken kata are required for dan-level rank in the curriculum. In the case of my personal experience with Kashiwaya Sensei, weapons have held a pivotal role. We typically dedicated at least one class per week solely to weapons training. In my own dojo, we conduct four weekly classes, one of which is exclusively devoted to weapons practice. Our emphasis on weapons encompasses both the jo and bokken, featuring various kata such as jo and bokken kata, kumi tachi (sword against sword), jo dori (jo take-away), tachi dori (sword take-away), and tanto dori (knife take-away). Within the Ki Society, there are paired forms called taigi, which include ten weapons kata out of a total of around thirty taigi.
What’s particularly notable is the consistency across mind-body coordination training, empty-hand techniques, and weapons practice. The footwork and application of ki remain consistent across all three realms. I’ve observed striking parallels between the execution of weapons techniques and empty-hand techniques; for instance, the similarities between a jo thrust and a kokyu nage are evident in their footwork and body-mind movement. This integration underscores that weapons training isn’t separate from aikido but rather an integral component of a cohesive system. While some styles may teach empty hand aikido exclusively, our approach integrates weapons training seamlessly into the curriculum, enhancing the depth and effectiveness of our practice.
Certainly, in some styles, weapons training is reserved for advanced students, which can be beneficial. However, in Ki Society dojos, exposure to weapons occurs early on. While traditionally weapons might not be emphasized until brown belt (second kyu), in dojos like mine, we introduce weapons training from the outset. We believe in providing beginners with the jo and bokken within their first few weeks, as soon as it is safe for them to handle them. This approach ensures that by the time they reach their brown belt test, they have a solid foundation in weapons practice. It’s not uncommon to observe a disconnect where individuals excel in empty-hand techniques but not as much with weapons, indicating a more recent start in weapons training. To address this, we prioritize early weapons practice as it serves as an excellent means to develop ki extension skills.
MAYTT: It is great to hear that students start almost when they get onto the mat! How did you get into teaching at the University of Chicago Ki-Aikido Club and how has instructing helped you better understand aikido?
KA: Upon my arrival in 2000, I was around Nidan, and a few years later, I tested for Sandan. Traditionally, they say that one should attain Sandan to establish their own dojo, yet Kashiwaya Sensei granted me permission to initiate classes here before that. Thus, what began as a small practice group evolved into the University of Chicago Ki Aikido Club, which has now been in existence for twenty-three years.
Teaching has profoundly aided my understanding of the art. It compels me to align my conceptual knowledge with practical application. If I cannot effectively convey and break down the principles to others, how well do I truly grasp them myself? Teaching becomes a reciprocal process of learning and growth. In the physical absence of Kashiwaya Sensei, I am compelled to teach myself, allowing the art itself to instruct me as I impart its teachings to others. Teaching is a dynamic process. I do my best to adhere to the principles and curriculum passed down to us, and observe the evolution within myself as I share the art and strive to embody its essence. My students serve as invaluable teachers, offering diverse perspectives and feedback that enrich my understanding. In essence, teaching is a collaborative journey of mutual enrichment and self-discovery.
MAYTT: Ki-Aikido is a unique style of aikido. What would you propose is a differentiating factor that Ki-aikido has compared to Aikikai, Yoshinkan, or Tomiki Aikido?
KA: To truly answer that question comprehensively, I would need extensive experience across all those styles, which I lack. I did engage in about a year of beginner-level Yoshinkan training, granting me some information, and I’ve attended a few demonstrations. Additionally, I have approximately three years of practice within an Aikikai-oriented dojo. Prior to founding my club at the University of Chicago, I trained for three years with an Aikikai club while setting up my own Ki Society club. However, the Aikikai club eventually disbanded due to the instructor’s passing. This exposure provided me with some familiarity with some Aikikai-style training.
Reflecting on Yoshinkan, I recall a strong emphasis on form, akin to our solo hitori waza practice but also performed with a partner. Mastery of a particular form preceded engaging in throwing techniques. Wide stances and expansive movements characterized the practice, which evolved over time. Observing some upper-level Yoshinkan sensei, I noted similarities in movement to high-ranking practitioners in both Ki Society and Aikikai. While differences exist in teaching methods and pedagogy among these styles, they all share a common foundation in aikido principles.
The movement of beginner students in Yoshinkan Aikido differed significantly, with a focus on demonstrating techniques clearly to a large group. This style may have been well-suited for scenarios like training hundreds of soldiers across a field, where visibility was crucial. I appreciated this aspect of Yoshinkan, as it prioritized clarity in technique demonstration. Aikikai conveyed a sense of openness and emphasized learning through practical experience. This approach also resonated with me, as it allowed me to apply techniques learned in Ki Society training more effectively. Over three years of Aikikai practice, I found that the emphasis was less on verbal instruction and more on physical practice, which suited my learning style then. I can appreciate hands-on learning that supports more abstract explanations.
Having experienced both styles a little bit, I recognize the value of each. While Yoshinkan’s clarity in demonstration was beneficial, Aikikai’s emphasis on repeated keiko allowed me to refine my techniques through active participation. However, it’s worth noting that my observations are solely based on my own experiences and may not apply universally.
One observation I’ve made is that within the Aikikai umbrella, there’s a degree of individual flexibility among high-ranking instructors to establish their own standards and principles, shaping their unique styles. This is evident when comparing practitioners trained in different Aikikai-affiliated organizations, such as the United States Aikido Federation versus the Aikido Schools of Ueshiba, for example. Despite these variations, they all adhere to the fundamental principles of aikido.
In contrast, within the Ki Society, there’s a greater degree of standardization due to the existence of a comprehensive textbook-like curriculum. Regardless of which Ki Society dojo one attends, the same basic principles and curriculum are followed. While individual instructors may interpret these principles in their own way, they remain within a well-defined framework. There is also the strong emphasis on Ki from the very beginning, and the principle that the mind leads the body. The goal is to be in harmony with the universe itself, and naturally this includes the self.
In my experience, practicing with individuals from various styles and visiting different dojos has been immensely enriching. Observing practitioners from other styles offers insights into different approaches and techniques, helping me better understand my own practice. It’s a continuous learning process that enhances my appreciation for the diverse aspects of aikido.
This interview is the first part of a two part interview. View the second part here.
To learn more about aikido and its history in America, click here.
Martial Arts of Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow 