Jiyu Waza and the Limbic Brain

Sensei was discussing with me the concept of the limbic brain, the part that controls our autonomic nervous system. More familiarly, it is the system that regulates the “fight, flight, or freeze” instinct when we are confronted in a dire situation. She points out that in the wild, a lot of prey enter the “freeze” state when captured by their predator: once it feels the lion’s jaws lock in on its neck, the antelope’s body goes stiff as it mentally discharges from reality, defaulting to the natural instinct that helps keep it from feeling pain. If the lion accidentally slips, the antelope seemingly comes back to life, rigid body contorting in a few spastic shakes. Where just a moment ago its body prepared it for death, survival instinct kicks back into gear just as quickly, the nervous system pumping jolts of adrenaline to re-activate every fiber of muscle and allow it to get away.

Underneath this human skin, we are primordially the same animals, experiencing similar urges during a physical confrontation. Depending on our natures, we default to one of the three responses, and in aikido, this is arguably most apparent when we practice jiyu waza, free-form attacks and defenses. Unbound from the confines of repeating a demonstrated technique over and over, perhaps nothing is quite as liberating—and as intimidating—as being allowed the freedom to attack and defend ad-lib. Jiyu waza is aikido’s closest to a competitive martial art’s concept of sparring in that you never know what attack will come out from the person you’re facing off with, or how your body may respond. When students get to practice it for the first time, they may tense up when they see an attack coming: the instinct to freeze. Or they may back up a few steps to give themselves room to think: the instinct to flee. The first step of doing good jiyu waza, before you get to refining ma-ai and technique precision, is to mentally overcome those two instincts that come most natural. Moving instead of freezing allows you to blend with your attacker, kicking into gear those techniques that you had to practice over and over to ingrain them into your muscle memory, to prepare you for this. Going to your partner and drawing out the attack instead of backing up helps you claim that open space and dominate.

For the students new to jiyu waza, for the timid or unsure or unconfident, even for the ones that tend to be over-analytical when given free reign to respond to an attack, it could be quite a challenge to start off in the right state of mind. Your body’s screaming at you to do something other than what you think is best to protect yourself from pain. But over these primordial animal instincts is human skin, coupled with human logic and the ability to define courage, to push strength. Standing off in preparation for jiyu waza, take a moment to claim control over your limbic brain. When “hajime” is called, it’s time to fight.

Tet 2011: Here, Kitty Kitty...

Tet 2011, the Vietnamese Year of the Cat. With the high-energy charge of the previous Tiger year, I am ready to welcome a supposedly more subdued, easier-going New Year. We started off by visiting Lion Plaza earlier in the week, stopping by the fresh flower- and fruit-markets.



All around us were traditional New Year flowers, chrysanthemums a fresh burst of yellow to welcome the spring sun, red and pink plum blossoms for luck, lovely lavender orchids, and fragrant white tuberoses commonly put on altars as an offering for the spirits of ancestors, who are invited to visit their families and homes on the First of every New Year.



Fruits traditionally put on the altar have names that pun on a popular New Year's prayer or wish: "Cau vua du xai," meaning, "Hope you have enough to spend." The Vietnamese usually offer four types of fruits:

-Mang cau (Cau): custard apple
-Dua (Vua): coconut
-Du-Du (Du): papaya
-Xoai (Xai): mango

Among other favorites (some imported from Southeast Asia) are rambutans, longans, grapefruits, tangerines, and kumquats, the last typically sold as a whole tree.


In the days leading up to New Year's, Lion Plaza comes alive with vendors selling their goods. Lucky red envelopes dot the displays on tables, and the usual murmured exchange of sellers and customers is punctuated by bursts of firecrackers to scare away evil spirits.


It has become a tradition for us to shop here every year, and to buy some fresh and lucky decorations to adorn our home.


I like to think that a house gradually adapts to its owners' unique spirits the longer we live in it, and these holidays with their festive decorations are what builds a house's character, transforming it into a cozy and rightful home.



Yes, it's true, you are usually given li-xi envelopes stuffed with money until you get married, after which you, as a married couple, distribute them to your children, your siblings' children, or simply to those younger than you. Older married couples who have grown kids would often give li-xi to their elderly parents as a gesture of "mung tuoi," or "celebrating another year of life." Everyone is said to become a year older on New Year's, no matter when their exact birthdays are, technically adding another year to their actual age. This may seem strange in Western cultures where everyone strives to be young and, at a certain point, even dreads celebrating the aging process, but in Eastern cultures, the older a person is, the more she is revered for her wisdom and life experience.

That said, sure, I kinda feel pretty clever staying single to cash in on my lucky red envelopes. And our parents want us to get married and give up on all this?


Sure, maybe in another year or so. ;) Chuc mung nam moi to all our family and friends! May 2011 be filled with fortune, prosperity, and wealth for you all, and may another year of wisdom also bring with it all that you have been hoping for in life.