I still want to write that book about “Aikido as theurgy,” but I'm being overly pragmatic. I feel like there’s probably only 11 people in the world who would actually want to read it, and alas, sadly, I fled long ago from academia, so I'm never going to get a grant or whatever magic academics conjure up that enables them to write about such obscure and interesting topics.
Can you tell I’m a little bit jealous? Feeling some pangs of regret about dropping out of community college (almost 30 years ago) to “focus on music.”
I've compiled (and actually read) dozens of books on western mysticism, theurgy, Japanese religion, and the roots of O Sensei's spiritual practices, but who am I kidding? Even if I could get a grant, I know I wouldn't be able to present a logical thesis anyway because my mind works in such a swirling fashion.
So, instead, for today, I'm writing a 698-word prose poem about wanting to write a book about Aikido as theurgy.
Here we go. Ready?
To me, theurgy (lowercase t) is free from any historicity that, if I was more of a scholar, I’d feel obliged to address.
As a mere amateur prose poet, I can use the word to mean just what it means etymologically—which is “divine activity.”
Aikido is a divine activity. It was developed while consciously engaging in divine activity. Of course, almost anything could be construed as divine activity at the end of the proverbial day because everything was created by the gods.
I think… Right?
Up at the top of the page, I called myself pragmatic and attributed my procrastination on writing this book, “Aikido as theurgy,” to the fact that it would only garner an audience of 11 people. The irony does not escape me that a prose poem about not being able to write that book will probably only amuse myself. And I’m obviously not pragmatic. The truth is, I feel like I can’t really write anything other than prose poetry.
I told you I dropped out of community college, right? but I had such a good connection with my creative writing teacher (who’s actually my earliest Substack subscriber) that she let me continue to attend her class for a few years after I quit. She gave me a book of Baudelaire and Rimbaud’s prose poems, which became my bible. This was while my mother was dying, so writing became a creative outlet. This was way before I found Aikido. I started going to open mics. That opened some doors. I can write regular rhyming poems too, but they become songs, and then I want to sing them—but I can't seriously ever entertain any musical endeavors while going to the dojo as much as I do now, so I just don't do it anymore…
Anyway, if you ever want to talk about Aikido as theurgy, just message me on Facebook. I still don't know how Substack works in terms of messaging people. I don't know if you can message me on Substack. If you know how that works, then do that. Otherwise, just message me on Facebook.
Truthfully, I’m exhausted. Trained too hard last week. There were some people testing, and I wanted to take “good ukemi” for them. I feel like I got hit by a bus. When I said that to my wife, she asked me if I’ve ever been hit by a bus. I haven’t, but I can’t think of a better way to describe how my body aches. “Fell down the stairs”—I don’t want to be dramatic, but…
I feel like the only choices I have in life are to be sore or to be stiff. If I don’t work out hard enough, I feel stiff, or even worse, flabby, but then I work out too hard, and I feel beat up. I've never been able to find the balance.
But even though I feel beat up, of course it’s in the theurgical sense. I still feel blessed by the gods to have this beat up body to begin with.
Sorry I tied this all up so hastily, but I said it was going to be 698 words.
