My cousin, who runs a karate school in San Jose, California, says
that the one who controls the distance in an encounter is the one who
controls the situation. One of the shihan of the Japan Aikido
Association, when asked about how, using aikido, to deal with a karate
practitioner, replied simply, "Maai."
We've all heard similar statements and all have been admonished
during training to be aware of the maai, often translated as combative
engagement distance, but perhaps more accurately rendered
"combative interval." When I first heard the word in a Tomiki
aikido dojo in the U.S., I thought it referred to a simple spatial
relationship --- the distance at which I could, in a single movement, reach
an opponent with my attack. Conversely, I also discovered, it was the
distance at which an attacker could reach me!
What I didn't quite get at first was the extent to which this was
not one, but two, sometimes vastly different, distances. When my then
training partner, Meik Skoss, casually remarked, over coffee and donuts
after jukendo (bayonet Way) training one morning, "Of course, you
know that my maai in relation to you, will always be different from
yours to me --- even though the distance between us is constant," I
nodded, and pretended to have the foggiest notion of what he was talking
about. It became clearer soon after when I met my friend Bill, who is
over six feet tall, in the company of his girlfriend, who is five foot
nothing. If the two of them were to stand side-by-side facing me, at
(Bill's) arms length away, I would be fully within Bill's maai, and just
outside of his girlfriend's. They would both be in my maai. If Bill took
one step back, he might very well be out of my maai, yet I would still
be within his. These differences are naturally based on the length of
each individual's arms and legs. Two more elements, speed and timing
(hyoshi) can also affect the effective combative interval. What
it all adds up to, is judging the constantly changing maai, different
for each individual and each type of attack, is incredibly complicated.
And of course, our teachers tell us, we must learn to make this
evaluation virtually subconsciously and instantaneously.
One major benefit arising from training simultaneously, at least for
a time, in a number of different weapons systems, is a certain mental
flexibility regarding maai, which I believe takes longer to develop to
an equal level when studying only taijutsu. For example, in aikido each
encounter is utterly different, because each individual's body is
unique, and we must make a series of minute adjustments to take utmost
advantage of the maai and make it work. This is virtually impossible for
the beginning student to grasp, and many systems have implemented a more
basic, static style of training, so that students can get the hang of
techniques before being confronted with the full complexities of maai.
Training in a weapons system, however, introduces a weapon, which is
generally of a uniform length. My naginata is the same length as Meik's
naginata, and while differences in reach and ability to cover distance
still matter, they matter less and are easier to isolate. The
compensations one must make are clearer to see when training with
various partners because of the constant of the weapon.
Studying in several different weapons systems then, gives one the
chance to work on different maai, as defined by the length of each
weapon. More importantly, it teaches flexibility and awareness. Earlier
this year, I began going to jo training immediately after practicing
Toda-ha Buko-ryu naginata. At first, when I began to use the jo, I would
find my hand sliding off the end --- I wanted more jo --- and I would drop one
end of my weapon. I quickly decided this was a bad idea, and rather than
relying on a physical memory, or lapsing into habit, I began to turn on
a constant maai monitor --- before doing any technique, I would mentally
check the length of my weapon. When I started to learn tanken
(short sword) after several years of juken training, my thrusting attack
was simply too shallow. My body knew quite well how to do a thrust --- but
only with a weapon the length of a bayonet.
These days I train in empty-handed techniques, and with tanto,
tanken, tachi, jo, juken, naginata, and yari, and I can switch between
the various maai (which are really all the same, but that's another
story for the future, when I figure it out) with a reasonable degree of
accuracy and efficiency. As a result, I feel much more comfortable and
confident in dealing with the ever changing maai of taijutsu.
by Diane Skoss, Aikido Journal #101, October 1994, Vol. 21, no.4
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