Kotsu Kotsu

I picked up a copy of Salvadore Dali's "50 Secrets of Magic Craftsmanship" in a bookstore. That guy who painted the melted clock, as you may know, was a groundbreaking surrealist painter, photographer and filmmaker, You may also know that Dali was famously an eccentric, egoistic self-promoter, famous for quotes like: "Each morning when I awake, I experience again a supreme pleasure - that of being Salvador Dali"  In the book the artist promised to provide the key that would save modern art "from chaos and laziness." I admit, I was kind of fascinated in what Dali, the self proclaimed greatest artist of all time, offered to teach. The book is full of Dali's characteristic, flamboyant language. A lot of it seems to make no sense: "Begin, then, by knowing that according to the Dalinian aesthetic the tulip is a horrid thing next to celluloid"  But then there are whole passages of things like how to grind paint. What type of brush t...

My husband teaches computer science, and he says it surprises his students when he teaches them to expect failure . He says students are not used to failing. In high school teachers focus on their successes amd they're given lots of encouragement. But when you're doing something you've never done before, you're going to fail and fail until you do it right, and then you'll move on. If you're doing something no one has done before, you'll fail even more before you succeed. In the end, you'll have lots more failures under your belt than successes. In my husband's opinion, if his students are not failing a lot, they're not trying hard enough. One day I commented to my piano teacher that I was finally starting to enjoy the sound of my own playing. "Don't get too used to that!" he said sardonically.  His explanation described essentially the same idea: if we're working to achieve mastery, we're doing something that most ...

I once saw a dancer stand on a chair, and reach down and touch the floor with her legs straight. I really, really wanted to be able to do that. After years of yoga, I now can do that - as long as it's a low chair. It's nice to be able to do. It's good to know I'm flexible. But it hasn't made me any happier. I try to remind myself that becoming better at something is not going to lead automatically to being happier . After all, every time I get better, I'll just want to try something even harder. (Or - depressingly - as I get older, I'll be striving to do the things I could do just a few years ago.) I'm not sure where happiness comes from. I know it's a lot harder for some people than others. But I try to remember to find it where I can: in human contact, friendship and love, in the sights and sounds of the world around me, and in appreciating the good things about myself.  Such as, I guess, the fact that I can do a forward bend.

I recently decided to learn a song . It’s one that’s typical of a certain Irish style of singing which is very wordy, often humorous, with lots of alliteration and  internal rhymes , and is sung quite fast. I’ve always been crappy at memorizing pretty much anything. For all that people call me talented and artistic, poetry reading and acting were never options for me. My aikido students  know that I can’t even remember the four basic principles: I get to three and then get stuck.  Memorizing a nine-verse song with long words that have to be exactly right or the rhymes don’t work, and no room for breathe or think? Out of the question. But I wanted to. And I was armed with some new tools for mastery that I've been using really successfully in my aikido and music practice.  So here’s what I did: Start with absolute confidence that it was possible .  Practice S-L-O-W-L-Y .  I have a cool program called Amazing Slow Downer . I set it up in my car t...

I'm a pianist and I practice the martial art of  Kokikai Aikido . Lately I've been working on speeding up. Part I - Music Usually I'll practice a tune till it sounds great when I play it slowly. Then I turn up the metronome. As soon as I do that I can feel my shoulders getting tense, I can't hit any of the notes, I forget what I'm doing and everything sounds like h*ll. I've come to realize that what's holding me up is not lack of technical ability, but my own mind. My brain is stuck in "slow mode." I'm used to hearing the music slower in my head. So when I play fast, it feels like I'm always trying to catch up. My brain is a half step behind what my fingers are doing. I realized that instead of just going "faster," I have to think "sooner." I have to think ahead , and then I'll be ready to move my fingers at the right time. I can tell you that takes a lot of attention to do that. My brain constantly wa...

Today my piano teacher (who is awesome) was trying to help me improve my mediocre improvisation skills. We were talking about the fact that the improv sounds much better when you leave intentional gaps, spaces, or pauses in the music. They add a rhythmic component, they focus the listener's attention on what they heard, prepare them for what they're about to hear. They help me gather my thoughts before I come up with more ideas, and they just make the whole thing sound better. But even though I know this, I don't do it. "You have to practice it," Dave said. " You have to practice taking a rest ." I wrote that down.... .....in BIG LETTERS.

I remember one time I was in the locker room at the Y with my friend Jan. We were putting on our aikido gi (uniforms) before class. There was a little girl of about seven in the locker room with her mom, changing after a swimming class. As we put on our black belts and tied them, the girl's eyes lit up with wonder. "You're black belts ?" she asked. "Yes, we are!" said Jan, smiling. I guess no matter how jaded you are, when you can impress a 7-year-old, it feels really good. As the girl and her mom left, Jan looked at me and said quietly, "...and it's not as hard as you might think. All you really have to do is keep showing up." Of course Jan was underplaying the hard work she's done to achieve a high level of mastery. However, she made a great point. There are times when the most important thing to do is to show up. Whether you're writing a book, running a marathon, entering a violin competition, or just trying to get thr...

Photo ©2014, Stewart Dean, imagovitae.org The other day I was talking to a friend about the incredible performances we've seen on YouTube.    "Ah," he said, "Some people just have so much talent."    "Those people work really hard at it," I said.    "Yeah," said he, "but they're just talented to begin with." To me, that kind of thinking can make you want to give up practicing or playing. If you think you can only be good if you already have "talent," why begin? It's not always obvious how much training goes into being great at something. Most artists downplay the amount of time they spend practicing: it's not interesting to hear about, and it's so much more impressive when it looks easy! Why ruin the image? When we watch YouTube videos, we only see the results, not the hard work. After years of knowing, working with and playing with many musicians and artists, I'm convinced that nobody,...

At the beginning of nearly every semester at Rutgers Kokikai Aikido , I have at least one new student who says something like this: "Sensei, I really love aikido, can you tell me how I can practice more often than two days a week? I want to practice every day ." I always tell them that two days a week is optimal, especially considering how much school work they are likely to have. My teachers always said that two days a week was just enough for people who have a "life in the world," whether it's work, school, or taking care of family. I have heard that the cheetah is the fastest animal on land at 113km/hr, but cheetahs can only maintain top speed for short bursts. A slower animal with staying power can overtake a cheetah. There are plenty of martial arts stories about students who are in a hurry to become masterful, and the moral is always the same: there are no shortcuts and consistency is key to mastery . If the student is insisten...