Daniel Kempling
I’ve decided to retire from Aikido keiko. There comes a time when you just know, and now, I do.
There are some health issues I’m dealing with, as well as some very positive developments in my professional life that have contributed to this decision.
I don’t want to slip away from this party without saying a proper goodbye, so let me share a few thoughts about my Aikido journey.
I began training in 1983 under F. I. Ishiyama in Victoria, BC. A student of Tanaka Bansen, Professor Ishiyama offered me my first instruction and inspiration in Aikido. His senpai, Y. Kawahara, was then the Shihan for Canada, and the teacher under whom I took all my kyu tests.
At the Canadian Summer Camp in 1988 we hosted Chiba Sensei as the guest instructor. It was my first encounter with this force of nature. I was awestruck, not only by his technical prowess, but also by the passion with which he spoke of the Martial Way. It felt to me as if my body and spirit was constructed of a jigsaw puzzle, with one central piece missing, and that Chiba Sensei held that very piece, daring me to come earn it.
I pulled up stakes in Canada, moved to San Diego and joined the kenshusei program in 1989, first training at the University Avenue dojo. Many of you have seen that iconic photo of Sensei and his kenshusei from that time.
I spent five years as kenshusei, graduating along with Frank Apodaca. The honorable discharge went something like this: “Daniel, Frank, I have grown tired of your faces, it is time for you to truly suffer – go open your own dojos. I kick you out.” It was, at the time, the sweetest words that I’d ever heard.
My journey as a teacher then began. I have run schools in Poway, CA; Capetown, S.A; Victoria, BC; Creston, BC; Peace River, Alberta; and lastly, Atlin, BC. There were a few years in Victoria where I acquired a commercial space and taught full time. I picked up skills as a personal trainer as well as a teaching the Pilates method, rolling it all into a business that I called the Centre for Mindful Movement. I picked up seminar work in the self-development industry, teaching throughout North America. It was glorious. I hardly made enough to survive.
I made a major shift in 2008. My investigations into movement were delicious, but I wasn’t providing enough for my young family. Accordingly, I made the difficult decision to close down the school, move my family to rural BC, and begin a second career as a residential building contractor. From that point on, I devoted myself to building my business and so put Aikido onto a two classes per week backburner.
I did what I needed to do for my family, however, for years I experienced a sense of mourning for those years where I gave myself fully to Aikido and the study of human movement. I found myself experiencing craving and jealousy in response to some of my colleagues who were able to maintain their schools professionally and so gain the ranks and titles associated with such efforts.
I do risk analysis for a living, and I could sense that I was heading down a path wherein the remarkable privilege of Aikido training that I experienced was being overshadowed by longing for what was. I set out to reframe that condition and now, at the end of my physical keiko, I can report that I have been successful – I live in state of profound gratitude for the gifts of this training and the quality of genuine human connection found in our community.
I work in industry as an advisor for Health and Safety as well as Emergency Management. A couple years back I chose to come out of the office and return to the field, working in high-risk environments. As I write this I’m sheltered in place from a blizzard at a remote camp on the Bering Sea, near Tuktoyaktuk, NWT. This is my dojo now.
My studies in breath and posture, the necessary courage cultivated from taking Chiba Sensei’s ukemi, the determination borne from surmounting one test after another – these all contribute to the expression of my trade. It has also given me the tools to design curriculum to help advance my trade towards a more human-centric model.
I once heard speak the Vietnamese monk, Thich Nhat Hanh. I was taken by a phrase in which he described meditation as “a tool to survey one’s environment”. This is as accurate a description as I can think of to describe the role Aikido has played in my life. Thank you for sharing it with me.
I will close with a poem that I wrote in 1994, upon leaving San Diego Aikikai:
A Kenshusei’s Conclusion
I came seeking a fresh coat of paint
For my toy soldier’s uniform
But instead of a fine brush and a high gloss
I was handed a coarse stone
And told to rub it all off
Layer after endless layer
Together, with my sisters and brothers,
We scraped and rubbed and cursed
And scraped and polished and burnished and bitched
“Is there no end to this crud?
Is this some kind of test?”
I even tried solvents
Red wine and whiskey seemed to work best
Deep in the dragon’s lair
I labored month after month
Year after year
Often feeling most uncool
I sometimes fancied myself a captive
So as to not seem such a fool
In my own mind’s eye
You all know how this tale ends
Or rather, how it doesn’t
Never could get that damn soldier scraped clean
But I got pretty handy
With that ole rubbing stone
And found that with fellow scrapers
I need never be alone
Photo taken at Multnomah Aikikai, Koto taking ukemi. The weapons rack in background is one made for Aki Fletcher Sensei about 28 years ago.