Emilie Inoue, Aikido of Champlain Valley
I used to think I had to choose—be open like a circle, grounded like a square, or decisive like a triangle. But life—and Aikido—keeps teaching me that true balance comes from holding all three at once.
There are times in my life when surrender feels like the only option, but not in a way that brings peace. I surrender out of exhaustion, out of despair, out of a sense that I have no control. I let myself be carried by the currents of others’ expectations, dissolving into their needs, losing my own center. I become a circle without a square, floating without an anchor. In those times, I feel lost, reactive, and unsure of my place in the world.
But Aikido continues to teach me that true surrender isn’t about giving up, it’s about allowing. It’s about expansion, about making space for what is while staying present within it. It’s about fluidity with purpose, movement with awareness. When I lean into the circle with understanding, I become adaptable, able to listen deeply, able to include without losing myself.
Then there are times when I am all square—building walls instead of setting boundaries, mistaking inflexibility for stability. I cling to structure, to certainty. I need to feel in control because life sometimes feels too unpredictable, too harsh. But by approaching it that way, I become immovable, isolating myself from the very connections that give me strength. I become a square without a circle, rigid and unyielding, like a box sealed too tight, keeping everything in and everything out.
Learning to embody the square in a healthier way means understanding that boundaries are not walls. Aikido reminds me that a strong foundation does not mean resisting movement, it means knowing where my center is, so I can move from it. When I embrace the square with wisdom, I honor my commitments, stand firm in my values, and create space for myself without shutting the world out.
Then there are times when I am all triangle—focused on precision but lacking flexibility, cutting through without room to reflect. I become a triangle without a circle, sharp without awareness, decisive without consideration, focused only on precision without flexibility, pushing forward without spaciousness. I act without pause, making choices that divide rather than refine, driven by fear instead of understanding. I believe that confidence means trusting myself, but without adaptability, my actions can become harsh instead of wise. Without the circle’s influence, I lose flexibility and awareness, cutting through when I should be creating space. My sharpness becomes reactive instead of wise, my words divide instead of bridge, and my actions sever instead of shape.
Aikido continually teaches me that cutting through alone is not enough—it is about purposeful direction. The triangle, when integrated with awareness, is the cut that defines, the commitment that propels forward. It is not just about rushing ahead but about choosing with intention. When I embrace the triangle with clarity, I act with intention, not impulse. I act decisively but with care, understanding that presence, not urgency, is what gives action its power. When I act with awareness, I carve a path with meaning instead of cutting aimlessly.
For me, the real lesson is that these shapes are not meant to stand alone. Life is not about being a circle or a square or a triangle—it is about holding all three at once. There are moments to surrender, to move like a river and soften into what is. There are moments to stand firm, to define my space and claim my foundation. And there are moments to cut through, to commit, to act with clarity and direction.
Aikido shows me that presence keeps fear in check, both on and off the mat. Big Aikido isn’t just about techniques in the dojo—it’s about how we move through the world, how we navigate relationships, challenges, and uncertainty with awareness. When I recognize when to yield, hold steady, or take action, I gain clarity even in hard moments. This not only deepens my understanding but also helps me appreciate the quiet strength of awareness.
I notice how the current political and social climate often works against this integration. We are pushed to separate these shapes—to be one or the other, to harden into stubborn thinking or just give up. The forces of division try to make us believe we must choose between structure and expansion, between action and openness. But this is a false choice. I find that the greatest strength comes from embodying all three at once—knowing when to flow, when to stand firm, and when to cut through with clarity.
At the heart of it all—and woven throughout—is love. It is both the thread and the backdrop, weaving these shapes together and giving them meaning. Without love, boundaries lose their purpose, movement loses its direction, and surrender loses its depth. Love is what allows me to face challenges with clarity and compassion, to move, stand, and act with purpose rather than fear.
I’m still figuring out how to integrate these shapes. There are moments when I react instead of respond, shut down when I should stay open, or hold back when I should step forward. But Aikido keeps showing me that it’s about love—moving through life with care, curiosity and awareness.
In a world that often feels fragmented, I believe that more adaptable, self-aware individuals—those who can shift between circle, square, and triangle—are needed. These are the people who can hold space and take action, create structure and allow flow, make clear choices while staying open to new ideas. They are not confined to one shape, they embrace the ability to be all shapes at once, knowing that love is the glue that holds them together.
If more of us embodied this way of being, the world might begin to feel less fractured. The lines that divide us could soften, making space for more flow and deeper understanding. Instead of standing still or acting recklessly, we could cultivate thoughtful and intentional action. Rather than walls that divide, a shared sense of purpose—rooted in wisdom—could bring us closer together.
I continue to deepen my understanding of how these shapes work together. When I am fully present, I feel all three within me. I am expansive yet boundaried, fluid yet steady, open yet decisive. And that, I believe, is the true practice—not choosing between them, but learning when and how to embody each one, always guided by love.