For many western practitioners of budo (Japanese Martial Arts), budo are viewed as form of spiritual practice. The idea that budo is a form of shugyo –ascetic exercise – is quite common, with several books, and numerous magazine articles published every year about how the practice of various budo can improve one as a person, or take one closer to enlightenment. This is true of all budo, from karate-do to iaido, but the idea is almost overwhelming within the Aikido community.

     Aikido’s founder, Ueshiba Morihei, wrote a great deal about the principles of Aikido being spiritual or religious. For Ueshiba, Aikido practice was an extension of his religious practice as a devout member of Omoto-kyo, a faith founded in the 1890s by Nao Deguchi. He wrote numerous teaching poems describing Aikido as a spiritual practice, including the following, quoted from the anthology The Essence of Aikido (pages 55 and 61).

     The above poem when taken along with what Ueshiba wrote about misogi are revealing.

    But is the art they practice a spiritual one? There seems to be a belief among many western Aikido practitioners that merely by practicing Aikido they will gain spiritually, or at the least, automatically develop into better people. This may be because people are reading the writings of Ueshiba outside their native context.

     Ueshiba practiced spiritual exercises, not just Aikido, rigorously, and daily. In Japan, pretty much any activity can be seen as a form of ascetic practice, if it is practiced with that intent. In this way, not only martial arts, but also flower arranging, calligraphy, and making tea can become a spiritual practice. But only if they are practiced with a focus on that idea.

     That question hasn’t been studied yet, but I think the answer has to be a qualified yes. What is actually studied and practiced in any budo, are combative techniques, tactics, and strategies. In Aikido, these are techniques such as joint locks and hip throws, tactics such as irimi and tenkan, and strategies like harmonizing and blending. These are all effective combative elements, and these are what practice in the dojo consists of. So how can they promote personal and/or spiritual development?

     If these things are only practiced in the dojo, they can’t. People are often amazed when a high ranking martial artist turns out to have at least as many foibles as the rest of us. We fail to remember just how often those who specialize in spiritual and personal development, priests, doctors, psychologists, monks and teachers, fail to achieve their own goals of personal development and do things like have affairs, or hold petty grudges. These are things that in others are looked down upon, but are accepted as human mistakes and shortcomings. We expect our martial arts teachers to be more perfect than we are, not just as martial artists, but as human beings as well, and all too often we are stunned when yudansha and teachers display familiar human shortcomings.

     Is it realistic to expect martial artists, even those who have been training for decades, to be above our human frailties? I really don’t think so. There isn’t any sort of organized program for teaching personal and spiritual development within any of the martial arts, even those with the greatest reputations for it, Tai Chi Chuan and Aikido. The way practice in the martial arts is structured is for technical, not spiritual, development. 20 years of practicing nikkyo will give you a great nikkyo, but it won’t necessarily make you a better person.

     This is not to say that the lessons of Aikido, and budo in general, are not highly transferable to life, it’s just that without active work on each persons part to make these lessons a part of their non-dojo life, actions, and heart, it won’t happen. It has been my observation that most people don’t make this effort, even those who have studied and practiced for decades. It’s very unusual for people to make the effort to apply these lessons to their lives.

    The reason for this is probably quite simple. It’s a lot easier to take criticism of a technique you are doing than a life you are living. To apply the lessons of your art to your life is a lot harder than just learning the art. Just as you take criticism of your techniques and understanding of Aikido every day when you practice, you have to be ready to criticize yourself, your reactions, and even your values if you want to really develop and progress as a person. This is vastly more difficult than taking criticism about your ikkyo. It means accepting that the very fundamental elements of who we are may not be as good as they should be. Considering how much time I spend rationalizing my actions, having to stare at myself, those actions, and my motivations without the comfort of a few rationalizations is a scary prospect. It takes frequent correction, sometimes from people I like to believe I’m better than, just to keep me from getting worse, much less to improve.

     It’s the same for everyone, whether they are accomplished budo masters, great chefs, or average people trying to get through the day. Spiritual development is not an easy road, even for those people such as priests and monks who make it their life, and many of them fall down at it frequently, even as they keep on trying. It’s even more difficult for people who are living regular lives. And I suspect that being an accomplished martial artist makes it more difficult, rather than easier. When you’re good at something, you have a lot of pride in what you do, and people compliment you on your skills. It’s a lot easier to focus on what people are complimenting you on than it is to face those areas of your life where you aren’t skilled, and may even be a wretched failure.

     If martial arts in general, and Aikido in particular, are going to be ways of personal and spiritual development, then we have to work just as hard at fixing the weaknesses in ourselves as people as we do at fixing the weaknesses in our techniques.