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I had the pleasure of watching, and taking a bit of ukemi for, several rankings last week at our dojo. It's interesting to note how different dojo cultures are reflected in this process.
In terms of the "testing" aspect, it really varies. At one extreme, I've seen organizations in which real testing for rank never seems to stop: folks who are up for even advanced yudansha ranking are challenged and may well not pass. At the opposite pole, what is done is essentially a demonstration that celebrates the assumption of the next rank, with the uke preselected and no surprises. The most interesting to watch fall somewhere in between: the person is well prepared but things are not scripted or choreographed. My own tests, done so far in three different dojos over the years, have fallen into this category, and managed to be simultaneously challenging and fun. Kind of like aikido in general.
Another difference is in the expectations of how techniques are done. One of the neat things about watching people doing tests for the same rank is how what are nominally the same techniques manifest based on a range of factors (size, age, gender, personality to name just a few). Its sort of like when I worked as an artist's model and loved walking around the studio during breaks to see all the different ways in which painters were interpreting me. At a dojo where I trained some years ago, the instructor was very concerned that everybody do the technique just how his shihan did it. This didn't make much sense to me. So it was nice last week to see peoples' individual natural styles not only tolerated but appreciated.
The thing that was very new to me was that after each person was awarded his or her new rank by the chief instructor, there was an opportunity for every other person on the mat to make a comment. They were very insightful and the cumulative effect was incredibly moving, "It takes a village" indeed.
We have four new first kyu students, and a week later I still smile thinking about that evening.
There's always an ongoing discussion somewhere in the aikido world about the "proper" role of uke; that is, the role that involves attacking a partner and, usually in most dojos, staying in that role to have the technique applied and accepting the fall or pin that results.
What is most often derided (well, after the really cruddy attacks you see in some dojos) is the practice of "tanking," of being so into playing the role that you go through it pro forma and roll or fall regardless of what your partner does. The funny thing is, I've been in dojos that will remain nameless that decry the practice while engaging in it, at least when the person applying the technique wears a black belt. Anyhow, it does seem to be widely recognized, if only in lip service sometimes, that unless you are with a real beginner, nobody learns if uke tanks.
The problem is, if you are not tanking, what ARE you doing?
I've practiced with partners who seem to think the proper non-tanking ukemi is active resistance, muscling back at their partners. There are others who, having delivered their initial attack, simply hang on and root themselves. In my opinion, they miss the point of the type of training we are doing.
Peter "the Budo Bum" Boylan and I have been having a back and forth about the role of kata for some time. Like him, I believe that the kind of partnered practice most aikido dojos use outside of kiyuwaza or randori is really a kata: an attack and a technique are specified, and two people, each with a predestined role, do their best to deliver it.
Viewed in this light, the role of uke is to deliver and keep delivering a committed attack,one that isn't so fast or hard as to overwhelm the skills level of the partner, but one that is continually aimed at the partner's center and continues the attacking energy as long as possible. This allows the partner to move appropriately, connect with uke, find the technique, and let it happen.
I also agree with a thought Jun Akiyama articulated many years ago: "nage, uke, same, same;" that is, it shouldn't matter which role you are in, the principles apply. So if the person doing the technique to uke is not supposed to be muscling or rooting, why would it be considered apt to incorporate such non-aiki principles in one's ukemi?
My own ukemi is a work in progress. It's limited by inability to move swiftly in some directions, certain actual disabilities and certain lingering fears. But I'm striving to find what I believe is the middle path, finding the "aiki" in the role: giving a sincere attack and, once it establishes a connection with my partner, being as committed as she is to staying connected. With a beginner I aim to let my body assume to shape of an idealized ukemi. But with others, I aim to relax and let my body reflect accurately what it is my partner is actually doing.