2019 (translated in 2025)

What Makes People Try Aikido
And 5 Tips for the Ones Who Didn’t Escape in Time

Denis Voronov’s Aikido Blog
What kind of thought makes people suddenly decide to take up Aikido, of all things?
I’ve decided to gather a few thoughts and observations about starting out in Aikido. Let’s begin with what a beginner actually faces after making the fateful decision to show up for that very first class.

How do people even get the idea to take up Aikido in the first place?
For all its wide presence, Aikido doesn’t exactly get a lot of publicity or aggressive promotion.
After the Steven Seagal films, there haven’t really been any major cultural moments linked to Aikido that come to mind.
And let’s be honest — Seagal’s characters never actually say they’re doing Aikido.
So anyone not already in the loop would have to go the extra mile to connect Hard to Kill with Aikido — and people, as a rule, prefer not to go any extra miles at all.
Смерти вопреки | Hard to kill
Whenever our fellow aikidoka accidentally end up in the news, it usually leads to incredibly dull and not particularly bright reports — full of tedious clichés like “Aikido means ‘the way of harmony with energy’” and “redirecting your opponent’s force against them.”
So to this day, I still find it a mystery what motivates people to step into an Aikido dojo — even mine.
And that’s despite the fact that throughout my 12 years as an instructor, I always ask new students, “What brought you here?” and, at the end of class, “Was this what you were looking for?”
Unsurprisingly, I’ve collected quite a few answers over the years — some brilliant (“I got tired of being a sheep”), some downright idiotic (“A businessman friend said it would install character”), and some just… odd (“I’m a bassist. It suits me.”)
Plenty of answers — yet the question remains:
What exactly does a person picture in their mind when they decide it’s time to walk into my dojo?
Alas, in most cases, that mental image turns out to be far from reality.
Well then. Once again we have flies mixed in with the cutlets — so let’s separate one from the other and start busting some myths.
Idiots don’t tend to stick around in my dojo.
The most common myth is the one about “redirecting the opponent’s force against them.”
In Aikido, you don’t need any strength — the attacker has it, and we simply redirect it.
We don’t really have to exert ourselves much, because everything is done for us by magic ki energy, which we’ll master after listening to the Teacher’s lectures on spiritual matters.
This myth is kept alive by a few charlatans who use it to attract a certain type of follower.
You know — the “not like the others” crowd.
Fans of vague talk about harmony and enlightenment, and selfies in a gi.
The whole thing is so pathetic, I don’t even want to talk about it.
Not my target audience anyway — idiots don’t tend to stick around in my dojo.

But even if you set aside the magical, mystical, and “esoteric” parts, there’s still a pretty solid myth left standing — the idea that Aikido is some kind of martial art where no one hits you in the head, no one breaks your arms or legs, and therefore it’s perfectly suitable for any delicate and pampered body.
It doesn’t sound quite as outrageously stupid, but the outcome is the same:
You’ll be “not like the others,” you’ll have gi selfies for Instagram, and you won’t really have to do anything hard.
This myth is more persistent — because it’s powered by one of humanity’s strongest forces: laziness.

Let’s move on.
Our new potential disciple starts googling and reading. He reads, googles again, and keeps reading.
He learns about aiki and kokyu ho, builds up a mental jumble of names, schools, and styles.
He finds out who Sokaku Takeda was and who he taught.
He reads about Hiroshi Tada, Masatake Fujita, Gozo Shioda, Morihiro Saito, Koichi Tohei.
Eventually, he even learns that the old man in the portrait isn’t Confucius — it’s Ueshiba, the founder of Aikido.
Finally, he knows everything about Aikido.
All the myths are busted. He has a crystal-clear understanding of what it really is.
(at this point, I raise my sarcasm sign)
Yes, this is exactly what he, as a beginner, needs.
And in a truly titanic act of willpower — defying the pull of laziness — he finds a site like this one, reads it thoroughly, and concludes that this is the place, with the right people, doing things the right way.
Minegishi Sensei leading the 2017 seminar in Saint Petersburg
…and now we’ll see if this contraption can actually fly!
At last, our beginner has formed a clear picture in his mind.
No more of that “against themself” nonsense.
Just the cultivation of body and spirit. No samurai roleplay.
No roleplay at all — everything is serious.
The Path. With a capital P.
Onward!
He comes to class — and he likes it. He likes the teacher, the students, the process, the atmosphere in the dojo — he’s in pure awe!
Nothing could possibly foreshadow…
(Cue dramatic music. Curtain rises. Enter: Reality.)

He returns home, overflowing with joy and barely able to fall asleep, replaying the impressions in his head.
In the morning, he wakes up thinking that everything in his life has now become better, more meaningful — just… right.
And that’s when the sneaky blow hits him:
Tomorrow he has to go to class again!
And overmorrow.
And the day after — always.

Friends, you wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve seen that look on someone’s face — the look of a person suddenly struck by this very thought!
You’d think it’s obvious:
You do Aikido — you go to training.
Simple, right?
But no.
Imagination always paints the picture of the end of the path.
Or maybe the middle. Sometimes even the beginning.
But never the path itself — stretching off into the horizon.

Most beginners don’t come back for the second class — and it’s exactly because of this.
Not because they didn’t like it.
They just weren’t ready for the fact that this practice would start changing their life right away.
Not someday, after they’ve gained wisdom and experience —
but right now,
when their usual routine suddenly gets disrupted
by these very trainings.

This would be the perfect place to draw a moral —
but I won’t.
Because it’s already obvious.
万歳!
* * *
As usual, I’m talking about Aikido —
but really, this applies to anything.
When you decide it’s time to learn something new —
take up Aikido, join a fitness club, start a new language —
it doesn’t matter.
What matters is imagining yourself doing it
day after day,
year after year.
Only once the process is in motion
can you expect any results.
Sounds a bit like a moral, doesn’t it?
And I did say there wouldn’t be one.
Fine.
Let’s get back to the process.

In the case of Aikido — and I insist on this — confident progress requires training at least three times a week.
Many people settle for two,
but in that case, progress will be noticeably slow.
Especially if you don’t do any other physical training besides Aikido.

What, two classes a week are completely useless?
No. Not at all.
Two sessions a week will let you stay in shape, absorb new skills at a gentle pace, and slowly take in knowledge.
It’s like a kind of stand-by mode — you can snap into action anytime.

Since we’ve started talking about how to launch the process of learning Aikido, let me point out a few more important things.

1
Don’t skip class
Sounds like a dumb piece of advice, right? Because it’s obvious.
Let me explain.
Of course, everyone has situations where they simply can’t make it to training.
But each time, you need to be honest with yourself: is this really a situation — or just an excuse to let laziness talk you out of it?
Which logically brings us to the next point:
If you really wanted to do Aikido,
you’d be doing Aikido
instead of doing whatever you're doing
instead of doing Aikido.
2
Don’t lie to yourself
I’ve heard it so many times — how you want to do Aikido, and how you definitely would do Aikido,
if not for your list of insurmountable obstacles.
That’s self-deception.
You’re always doing something.
And whatever that something is —
that’s what you actually want to be doing.
Because if you really wanted to do Aikido,
you’d be doing Aikido
instead of doing whatever you're doing
instead of doing Aikido (see: recursion).

This is a universal principle.
If you take the time to understand it — and accept it —
your life will change.
No matter what you’re doing.
Even if it’s not Aikido.

Back to Aikido and skipping class — here’s something to remember:
If you’ve already reshaped your life to include regular training two to four times a week,
and you miss one because of a runny nose
or your beloved grandma’s birthday —
it will have almost no effect on your progress.
But if every class is preceded by a personal round of cost-benefit analysis —
if every time you lie on the couch,
you begin carefully scanning your body for possible signs of fatigue or vague discomfort,
like a kid pretending to be sick when mom tries to get him out of bed for school —
then your training will become sporadic.
And in that case, you’ll want to take a look at the next point:
3
You can’t stand still
Not in the sense that it’s forbidden —
in the sense that it’s impossible.
If you train regularly, you progress.
If you skip training, you regress.
Sic!

4
Keep Aikido on your mind
It’s important not to leave your Aikido behind in the dojo — take a piece of it with you.
Now, stepping firmly on my own lyrical impulse, I’ll try to restrain myself and skip the metaphor here.
Let’s keep it rational.

No, I’m not urging my students to think about Aikido nonstop
(though that does happen when someone’s really into it).
I just mean that between classes, it’s worth occasionally recalling something from an explanation,
replaying a technique in your head,
reviewing your test requirements,
or forming questions for your teacher.
It helps to tie this into your daily routine —
five minutes before bed,
or while you’re in the shower.

During little pauses in your workday, you can practice some basic forms.
No, I’m not suggesting you do tai sabaki in the subway for the amusement of the goodly folk.
But remembering how your shoulders, chest, and hips should be aligned — that’s genuinely useful and won’t attract attention.
Unless someone happens to admire your excellent posture.
And breathing exercises are absolutely worth doing instead of your morning workout.

5
Stay in shape
There’s no free ride. If you want progress — train your body.
In the dojo, we don’t maintain fitness — we study Aikido.
Shedding excess fat, building muscle, getting your heart and breathing under control — all of that matters,
both for your practice and for your health.
Find the time and place for it.

And see you on the tatami!