Thierry Diagana
Aikido Institute of San Francisco
The first time I got to see Chiba Sensei, before I even started practicing Aikido, he was seated motionless under the kamiza, attentively watching his top students conducting a seminar. His breathing was visible through his abdomen, and even though his eyes were half-closed, it was evident that he was perceiving everything around him comprehensively. It was not just his eyes that scanned the tatami; his entire being—mind, body, and soul—was intensely observant. At the same time, there was something deeply intimidating about his presence, akin to being in a cage with a big cat. Weirdly enough, this feeling convinced me that I needed to learn this art, so I signed up that day. Mrs. Chiba handed me my first dogi, and little did I know it would be the beginning of a lifelong journey.
I believe many of us who studied under him experienced the feeling that even when Sensei had his back turned or appeared to be looking elsewhere, he was still seeing us and all the struggles we were going through. Sensei did not possess supernatural abilities, but he had an extraordinary capacity to form profound connections with individuals, driven by his insatiable curiosity for human interaction. He once mentioned that throughout his life, he never failed to acknowledge the richness and privilege of meeting people.
On the mat, his gaze seemed to penetrate and understand us in ways that eluded many who were closer to us. His sophisticated comprehension of the anatomical, intellectual, and spiritual diversity of individuals was truly remarkable. This pursuit to document these encounters appeared akin to the passion early naturalists had for cataloging the world’s diverse fauna and flora. It is my belief that this endeavor was not only for his personal record, but also to ensure the transmission of Aikido from its roots to the farthest reaches of humanity’s branches.
I had the privilege of experiencing Sensei’s Aikido and will not attempt to describe it, leaving that to others with greater expertise and communication skills. However, there are three experiences that I will always remember. Once, as a fifth kyu, I took ukemi for iriminage. After enthusiastically grabbing his wrist, I quickly fell on my back and onto his foot, and as fate would have it, it was the foot that had been hurting. He screamed and chased me around the mat as I was rolling away, trying to escape his wrath. This incident left me terrified for the remainder of the class! Upon reflection, it provided a valuable lesson on the importance of awareness during practice, prompting me to diligently improve my connection with my partner.
Years later, in Daly City, I received iriminage again, but we had no mats and practiced on a hard floor. Though we had not taken full falls before, I knew somehow that he was going to throw me, and I focused with all my might on avoiding landing on his feet. I succeeded, but in the process, had forgotten about the hard floor, and was quite sore for a few days! Ukemi requires both awareness of one’s partner and attention to survival and self-care.
During a summer camp, I struggled with iriminage (again) with a much larger partner who was eager to expose my inadequate technique. Chiba Sensei observed my struggle, as I was stuck trying to take down my partner using my arm. He quietly moved behind me and suddenly screamed in my ear “MOVE!” causing me to jump back and my partner to fall with a thud! He smiled.
Reflecting on my short time with Sensei, I am reminded of the many lessons that continue to influence my life. His teachings on resilience, presence, and adaptability have shaped my approach to challenges both on and off the mat. He could get very angry, but was always whole, generous, and often compassionate. The last memory I have of him is his gentle push on my lower back, which miraculously eased the excruciating pain while I sat zazen. I want to believe he is still observing everything around us. I often wonder what his thoughts would be, or what he might say about the world we are experiencing today. Then I realize he would likely just scream, “Don’t get stuck, MOVE!”
Thierry Diagana Sensei
Editor’s note: this article originally appeared in Remembering Chiba Sensei, the chapbook given out at Summer Camp 2025.