On May 8th, 2021, I conducted an interview with Harvey Konigsberg, 7th dan shihan under Yamada Yoshimitsu, head shihan of the United States Aikido Federation. Konigsberg sensei is one of Yamada sensei’s most senior students. He has been a member of the New York Aikikai for over fifty-five years. He also has his own dojo in Woodstock, New York where he resides with his wife Carolyn and four cats.
Konigsberg sensei is also a professional artist. What makes him unique hinges upon two elements: his masterful ability to combine aikido movement with the penetrating stroke of his artistic brush. In whatever he does, he is an artist working his craft. His aikido informs his art, and his art informs his aikido. When one views his aikido paintings, they come alive. They capture your spirit. When you are on the mat with him, he takes your center in an instant, but always with a smile and a grin: as if to say, “Wow, how did that happen?” I hope that those who read this interview will come away with a glimmer of what this amazing teacher and artist has and continues to give to both his aikido students and to his fellow artists.
How did you get started with aikido and what was your first impression?
Harvey: It all started back in 1965. I was living in Manhattan in a loft on 24th Street between 6th and 7th Avenues. I was also the building superintendent. My friend, Harry McCormick, who is also an artist, and I were in the same gallery in Greenwich Village, the Phoenix. Harry told me about aikido. Since I was living on 24th Street and the New York Aikikai was on 18th Street, it was easy to find my way there to check out a class. My friend, Clem Florio, went with me to observe my first class. He was a professional boxer, who had eighty-seven professional fights with boxers such as Sugar Ray Robinson, Jake LaMotta, and others. So, he was well versed and knowledgeable in boxing. (He was the boxing and racing editor for the New York Post.) We went to the Aikikai to see what this was all about. We entered the dojo, then up the stairs we go. It was a small class, but on the mat were Yamada sensei and Koichi Tohei sensei.
I had never seen anything like this in my life. I had already stopped pursuing boxing because I realized I really didn’t like getting hit. However, I missed the martial aspect and the activity. I saw aikido and asked myself, “What is this?” I think a lot of people associate aikido with the grabbing and throwing in judo or jujutsu, but I immediately equated it with what I loved about boxing—totally free movement—spontaneous movement. But I still did not know what was going on! Clem, who had better eyes than I, said, “You do not know how great this is – this is amazing! Do me a favor – when you start training, grab one of them, and let me know how it feels.”
I started about a month after that. They were a wild bunch, and it was rough training. People were from all kinds of martial arts backgrounds. They had to pry my hands open, since I was used to keeping my hands closed from boxing. Sensei approached me and asked me if I knew how to fall and I said I did, so no one ever really taught me how to roll. I was persistent and kept going. I loved it so much! I was twenty-five then and physically strong, full of piss and vinegar from working, lifting heavy containers in a warehouse in Florida, before moving up to New York.
One time, Tohei sensei came up to me, and I put my arm out straight, and with one finger, he dropped me to the floor. I said, “Sensei, I was not ready,” He did it again. “Sensei, I was not ready.” He replied, “Are you ready now?” And again, I was on the floor. How did that happen? I had no understanding of what was happening. It became a great mystery for me. I was entranced. Yamada sensei and Koichi Tohei sensei would train with us and throw us. The encounters were always different. They were always mysterious. I tried to capture that. It became my white whale. What was the difference in that feeling? How did that happen that I was on the floor? This is how I started aikido.
I went to the New York Aikikai for a year or two, then we moved to Montreal, and I panicked. How was I going to train? I started dreaming about aikido. You do not know how deep this goes into you at some subconscious level. By chance, I heard on French radio that someone was teaching aikido in Montreal. That was Massimo di Villadorata. I joined the dojo and trained three or four times per week. I got really hooked. I owe that to Massimo. I will always be grateful for that.
You are now 80 years of age, and you are still practicing. What continues to draw you to continue practicing and teaching aikido?
Harvey: This experience with aikido was life changing. I was once with Yoshioka Sadao sensei from Hawaii in Yamada sensei’s office, and Yoshioka sensei said that at a certain age—forty years or so—people in Japan stop taking break falls. I thought, “Why would I stop taking break falls?” My body could still do it, and this was before we got tatami. What we were practicing on at the time was much more forgiving in a certain way. Then Yoshioka sensei said, “When you make a sword, you start with raw iron, and you take a rock and beat it into shape. Then, as it takes shape, you take a finer rock. Finally, you use a rough surface to smooth it out until you have the final blade. In the end, you use a shammy cloth. If you took a heavy rock to it then, you would destroy everything that you had done.”
I still get chills when I think of this analogy; it resonated so deeply with me. What is interesting and what is conversely true is that when you start practicing, you do not use a shammy cloth. You need that process of the heavy rock; it is very important. However, if you start at a certain age, you cannot use that heavy rock. This analogy from Yoshioka sensei was life-changing in my relationship to aikido. This is part of my goal now, my focus, to use a shammy cloth.
We were practicing hard in our twenties and thirties, and physically well-tuned, and yes, I could bounce off the wall and be OK. I was resilient, but as one gets older, things change and one’s practice changes and adjusts. Suddenly, you begin to see the changes in your body and in your practice. As I adjust in my own practice, I see areas of power or areas that are much more profound. In many ways, it is even more fun. I am in a fortunate position in that, and for whatever reason – experience or seniority – I am a teacher. Yet I see many talented people who came along at the same time who feel that they cannot train anymore.
The question becomes how do we tailor aikido without losing its essence, so people can come and still train and be connected? If we have been doing this for all these years and have a passion for it, why should we have to give it up? I am really working at this and have just started a class where people who have physical challenges can do aikido without the falls that may make it unpleasant or even endanger them, but where aikido can still be effective as a martial art.
This fits into my philosophy of aikido right now. When we talk about the efficacy or the efficiency of aikido, I do not think that aikidoka realize what is actually done by nage. It is the encounter. The dramatic and magnificent throw is up to uke. Even after training for twenty or thirty years, what goes through people’s minds subconsciously as they execute a technique is, “Oh, I did that.” If your uke is thrown across the mat and does not have beautiful and impressive ukemi, you have somehow failed in executing your technique. But that is not true. The truth of aikido is that effectiveness is in the encounter itself; and with the encounter you have options. This is what I try to stress to people. It is the mental, spiritual and emotional effort that one brings to the encounter and how one approaches it. This is perhaps the most important aspect of what we do; to work at this does not require one to take falls or stop their training, which they have enjoyed with passion for so many years.
I am eighty years old now, and I am still practicing, simply because I cannot stay away. Today, I went to the dojo. I just came back home, and I am renewed. Even if I am tired, aikido has a nutritional value to the soul, to the psyche, and it is always different. Aikido is like a kaleidoscope. You will not get faster or stronger at eighty, but you will go deeper.
How do you see the future of aikido, particularly when there is a decline in aikido dojo membership, and with greater interest in other martial arts such as BJJ or MMA? Can aikido survive?
Harvey: Before the pandemic, what was happening is that we were not so much losing people as we were not gaining people, especially young people. Everyone had their reasons: they were more interested in the virtual media world or in the drama of cage fighting—one winner, take no prisoners! I think part of the issue centers around how we offer aikido without taking the time to explain it fully, including all its many different facets. Also, there were some talented aikido people who perhaps were a bit delusional, and thought they could get into a ring with a boxer or a person who trains in this combat environment and go ten/fifteen rounds. I know from my own experience as a boxer that this is a different kind of training. It takes you into a different mental space. I think that we should acknowledge that, but at the same time, emphasize that aikido is a martial art, and a very effective one, that has its own place.
I do not think that aikido is necessarily for sparring. If you ask some law enforcement—and there are many with whom I have spoken—they say aikido is remarkably effective for controlling combative people and using the proper amount of force. So, we need to let people know this, and also let them know that we are not doing aikido to go into competition or into a ring. As I said earlier, it is about the encounter and how we deal with it. Aikido is an art that you evolve into. One is not training for a “main event” fight, but rather training for life. My concept of aikido is that we are training for freedom of movement and effective spontaneity for any situation that life presents.
It is interesting that when we first had to quarantine, and we had to close our dojos, people were lamenting that this was the end of aikido. I did not see it that way. I had a visceral feeling that people were really going to miss this. Before I reopened my dojo, I had students, many of them 5th and 6th dans who were vaccinated, going to the dojo and training with each other, calling me up and telling me what great fun they had. The first few rolls were difficult. They were like children: joyful, experiencing a kind of a rebirth. Amidst this pandemic, many people have lost loved ones—I still cannot come to grips with the passing of Donovan Waite and others—but on the other side, we need to renew what we have taken for granted.
I have friends I haven’t seen for more than a year except to wave at over Zoom. Now that so many of us are vaccinated, it feels like a party when we reconnect in person. This is what we are about—connections. This is among the most wonderful aspects of aikido. It is so amazing that we have a martial art that is dynamic and effective, and at the same time, you can have this interaction with another person on such an intimate level. People should be leading and not dominating, and following but not being submissive. I tell my students, my instructors, that I do not want anyone to leave the dojo feeling less than when they came in. Sometimes I go to the dojo when no one is around and just sit and feel how amazing the atmosphere really is. This I think is what people are after and want—the connection that aikido provides. It is life itself. So, aikido will grow and change but will continue.
COVID has changed the way we practice and now it is difficult to say when things will return to normal, if ever. What are your thoughts on how COVID has affected aikido practice? What do we need to do as a community to ensure aikido is alive and well, on and off the mat?
Harvey: We have to change our idea of normal, to actually expand it. I am teaching differently from before the pandemic. I remember the development of aikido in New York and in the States as a whole. Aikido first came to Hawaii, then to the West Coast, and finally to the East Coast. At that time, there was a difference between West Coast and East Coast aikido and how one practiced,—at least it was perceived that way. I do not think this exists anymore among aikido practitioners. The differences in aikido styles are due more to one’s teacher than specific regions.
In the past, when we were all young in our twenties and thirties, our practice was very much on the physical side, and it was all very good. Now I think we need to emphasize and include different aspects of aikido—psychological, emotional, and spiritual facets—because we have had to do that with our Zoom practice. For example, when I do my Sunday Zoom class, several students from my good friend Miguel’s dojo (the chief instructor of the dojo in Lima, Peru, where I have been invited to teach for the last few years), attend the class. They have been struck very badly with COVID, and it is such a joy to see them participate in my class.
When you do techniques by yourself, you may “ghost it,” as they say. Some people can do this, but I cannot. I have a practice partner in my Zoom class, my wife Carolyn, who can take ukemi for me. I can describe things, and what I feel about them. However, my students need to be physical, so I just pick up a jo and move for fifteen or twenty minutes. We have learned a lot of kata over the years, and I have forgotten many of them, so I mix them up. Deliberately. The point is to move and, more than that, to move freely. That is what we do in this class.
My student Annette has been teaching kata on Zoom and people love it. COVID forces us to be creative and suddenly you start to discover new things. Annette is a 6th dan from Germany who is very innovative. She had a class before the pandemic with about four people in attendance. Now she has a Zoom class on Tuesday night and, all of a sudden, she has a class of fifteen people. I started doing my Zoom class because of her. She was inspirational. After class, we joke and discuss things. Yes, Zoom classes are virtual, but it is better than not having them. In fact, it is not just better— it is a gift. Aikido enables these connections and binds us together in a circle. It is part of the mystery: circle, square, triangle.
The nature of aikido itself is to be creative, and to adjust to new circumstances. Yet often we forget this, and we get stuck or comfortable in what we have taken for granted. Aikido will survive—continue to thrive—if we are willing to meet these challenges in a creative and meaningful way. To do that, we have to be open to new possibilities as gifts that are given to us. As we know from our experiences on and off the mat, it is not so easy to adjust to new circumstances. We have seen this with COVID, but this is our task as aikido students and teachers.
Can you speak about lineage and respect in aikido?
Harvey: Aikido came to the US in the sixties from Japan, where there is a lot of respect for seniority and age. This is not as true in the US. From my own experience, I remember traveling in Ecuador. I love the music there—it is like oxygen. I noticed that the older generation all love music. The younger generation have their own music, but no one throws out the older music just because it is not current. They are connected, and that is what lineage is all about. It is the traditional connection. If you have something that is valuable, it may change over time, but you should always look at the roots and see how they give the art life and make it flourish. You must not disconnect; that is what defines lineage.
As for senpai and kohai—at the New York Aikikai we had respect for each other and for seniority, but it wasn’t a big issue. Yamada sensei said that senpai and kohai is a really deep thing in the culture of Japan. I have been in places where the kohai has to get this or that for his senpai. This isn’t the case at the NY Aikikai. My personal feeling is that if you just have respect for each other, you cannot go wrong.
I remember a funny story: My friends Eddie Peteroy, Susan Wolk and I were at a summer camp. This woman was preparing to take a 1st kyu exam, and she was very nervous. She asked when to bow. Eddie said, “Bow, bow, keep bowing—no one ever got into trouble for bowing too much!”
I think of our lineage—how incredible it was when Yamada sensei, Kanai sensei, Chiba sensei, and Sugano sensei came over to teach us. All these masters were original disciples of O-sensei. Of course, we all want to know stories about O-sensei. He is such a legendary figure: how did it feel to grab someone like that? We are fortunate that we have visual evidence of who O-sensei was, and beyond that, we have people who can tell us what it felt like. This reminds me of a cartoon in the New Yorker: These two little frogs are sitting on some lily pads and there is this big bull frog sitting on another one and the caption says, “Tell us again about Monet, Grandpa.”
There are people who started aikido with these shihan when they came from Japan. We travelled all over with them, and took ukemi for them at demonstrations. We stayed at people’s homes and YMCAs. We didn’t get paid for this, but we were honored to do it. This was a different point in time in our aikido history. Now we have younger, talented aikidoka in our organization. We need to make a space for them to flourish, while acknowledging that aikido is a very organic process. I think it’s a good idea for younger aikidoka coming up to support each other and invite each other to teach at seminars. When I travel, I try to bring some of my younger up-and-coming students. Then people invite them to come and teach on their own. This rich lineage is what binds us together, and it is our task to promote this lineage that has been given to us.
You have been a member of the New York Aikikai for fifty years or so and a senior student of both Yamada sensei and Sugano sensei. Can you share some experiences practicing under these instructors?
Harvey: The New York Aikikai is one of the most fortunate dojos in the world to have had two shihan of such stature who got along so well, and who encouraged their students to develop themselves individually. They never insisted that you do something exactly as they did it. They wanted you to understand the principle that they were showing. I would enter the dojo when Yamada sensei and Sugano sensei were teaching, and there was just a feeling that they were compatible, like thunder and lighting, each with their own qualities. When Sugano sensei was teaching, I heard a rumbling; I always associated Sugano sensei with vibration. If Yamada sensei was teaching, I always associated him with light. To me it was amazing. I was influenced by them both in very specific ways.
My experience of having Yamada sensei use me as uke in many, many demonstrations that we used to do in the sixties and early seventies taught me how to conduct myself in front of people, both as a teacher and in demonstrations. For example, Steve Pimsler and I once had to fill in for Sensei in the Catskills at some kind of symposium. We had to do an hour-and-a-half, both demonstration and teaching. To my surprise, we were able to fill the time comfortably because of our experience with Yamada sensei conducting all these demonstrations and seminars.
Sensei was always concerned about our well-being in these demonstrations, particularly in free-style. I remember one time I was flying off the stage, and a hand came and pulled me back. That was sensei. He just had that kind of awareness. We were all so fortunate to be able to take ukemi from these remarkable teachers. It was something else. I am very fortunate to have Yamada sensei as my teacher both technically and as a human being. His ability to creatively come up with solutions to problems that bring everyone together is so much in keeping with the spirit of aikido. Aikido is in his very core.
Can you comment as to how your practice and teaching have developed under Yamada sensei and Sugano sensei?
Harvey: Aikido is an art, and it is not confined to any specific style. If you adhere to principles, you can develop according to who you are—body structure or whatever. With Yamada sensei and Sugano sensei, you were free to explore within the principles of aikido. I am not sure what I got from whom. However, to have these two masters teach you, and yet at the same time, to be allowed to explore, was a gift. It reminds me of when I studied art with Eugene Massin, who was a maestro, a very powerful, powerful painter. He looked like Anthony Quinn. He would come into a room and bang into both doors. He was charismatic and a genius of a painter. I was so attracted to his work and how he did things. It was extraordinary. You could not help, but emulate his style. It was similar to the old-time guilds where you apprenticed yourself to a master. I remember years and years ago when I was painting in my loft. I said to myself, “Oh, I am doing this like Gene. When am I going to paint like myself!?” One day I stepped back—I get chills now thinking of it—and thought, “Wow! This is my painting – this is me.” It all coalesced in an organic way, and that is how I feel about aikido. It is a path, a very organic path.
In a sense, that is why we developed practice protocols and why you do not take three classes and count them as three days. It would fill your day, but we need time for fermentation and growth. It is a process, and if you skip the process, you are missing something. It is important that you go by the numbers when you first start. Over time, you become free and move accordingly.Both Yamada sensei and Sugano sensei gave you the freedom to explore; they gave you a space in which to do that. There were times when Sensei would say, “No, put your foot here,” and other times he would say, “Just do it.” Sensei gives you the basics and then he expects you develop your own aikido. “I cannot look like you, and you cannot look like me.” When people ask, “What is the difference between a craft and an art?” this is one of the ingredients: suddenly, you do not look like the master. You come out in a unique way. Individual expression is the difference between an art and a craft.
Sensei says that instead of doing a tenkan he is doing a “five-kan.” For him, he has consolidated it, but it is still the same principle. It is still the same idea. However, there are things that a teacher must teach. It is a process. You need to do this in the beginning—tenkan—one hundred eighty degrees, and later you can take it to ninety degrees. You must not burden the new students. It is not that they do not have the potential, but you do not want to overload them. Otherwise, they will never develop a foundation. This has to be first.
When I started aikido, I just felt this was an extraordinary thing that people could do. I always held onto that “Wow!” feeling. Over the years I found that I was releasing tensions and intentions rather than adding on. As you progress in your aikido life, it is about getting rid of your baggage.
What do you consider to be the mark/qualities of a good aikido teacher, and how do you communicate that to your students? Beyond that, how do senior instructors pave the way for the younger generation to carry on the path that you and others—like Yamada sensei—have started?
Harvey: A good teacher knows their students: what level they are at, what to “feed” them and how much. The aim is through the teaching process to make students feel comfortable, which automatically relaxes them. If you create an environment where people feel comfortable, their tensions automatically let go. You do not have to tell them, “Relax, relax,” which is counterproductive and just makes them more tense. If you encourage your students and make them feel good about themselves, they will naturally pick up what is being taught. When you teach as uke, if your technique is good enough, you can make nage feel as though they are picking it up by themselves; that way they are learning through their body and not by you telling them what to do. My feeling is that a student should never feel less of who they are than when they came into your class.
Can you speak about how weapons have informed your aikido development?
Harvey: I’ve learned any number of kata over the years. Now I find it valuable to have them somewhere in my subconscious; I pick up a jo or a bokken and just move freely. The advantage of using a weapon, it is said, is that when you have a weapon, you move as if your hands are free, and when you don’t have a weapon, you move as if you have a weapon. But if you have never worked with weapons, you cannot do that. Many times, I imagine that the weapon is a divining rod or a dousing rod, something that I can use as a directional to place my attention through. The weapon, used properly, will extend your energy.
How difficult was it to maintain your dojo over thirty+ years? How did you recruit new students? Did you advertise, or did the dojo maintain itself without extra effort?
Harvey: It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been wonderful. I’ve always loved going to the dojo, and even when I didn’t want to, I loved being there when I was there. I’ve never sold aikido because I’m not a good salesman—I’ve pretty much had the same problem with my paintings. I tend to share and give stuff away. Since the pandemic, we are now reopening the dojo and we’re taking a more proactive approach, being more assertive promoting aikido and describing the special aspects of aikido. I feel people will be more receptive to what we do now, to the unique quality of this activity. I think it’s important now for people to do aikido and for us to share it.
Your aikido art gallery is amazing, can you speak about how your art has informed your aikido, and your aikido your art?
Harvey: I want everything that I do to have a life to it, a spark. I do not stop with a painting until it grabs me. I know this: I do not settle. I do not settle. I am a conduit for allowing something to pass through me and express itself and the situation. When I paint, the artist joins with the object and the materials in one point of expression. In aikido, nage joins with uke and the technique to express the culmination of the situation. There are elements of preparation and elements of allowing the situation to express itself and go where it wants to go. Every situation is different whether it be my painting or an aikido technique. In each, I look to express a directed spontaneity. I have a friend, Steve Kerner, who is a wonderful artist. He says, “You know why I paint? I paint to astonish myself.” I love that. That is it. That’s why I paint. That’s why I do aikido: to astonish myself.
Aikido enables students to train into their senior years yet, as we get older, some start to acquire health issues or become physically challenged. How do we adjust teaching and practice in general to address our older aikido community?
Harvey: I want to reflect a bit more on this. It is an important subject. Perhaps more so given the pandemic. I remember a number of years ago I went to Australia and taught there. It was the Australia Aikikai’s fiftieth anniversary. Yamada sensei could not go, so I went. They had a much older population in their dojo than we did back in the States at that time. Doshu was there along with other teachers from all over the world. At that time, I was having a lot of trouble with my knees. I would take one or two classes from Doshu, and then sit out to rest my knees. I noticed that there was a whole group of older people practicing in one area, and not falling down. I thought to myself, “I can do that.” Then I got on the mat to practice with my friends, and a young man came up to me and asked if he could train with me. I told him that I would love to, but that I couldn’t take ukemi. He said, “No, no, you can throw me around and I will take ukemi.” With that kind of attitude, people can continue to practice well into their senior years or with physical challenges. As we get older things change and you need to adapt. People who have been training for years have the mechanics and the background to adjust. The question becomes what about seniors or physically challenged individuals who wish to start aikido practice. For this group, who want to feel aikido, you do not have to do much. You can have low-impact, no falling classes, but you still need to come up with a system where you are not toning it down to the point where it loses the essence of aikido training. We can practice with intensity without the impact. I recently watched a video of senior citizens practicing a low-impact class. They were thrilled just to get out there, and move and touch each other. They were giving to each other and finding that they could do more than they thought. As you get older, you appreciate more, yet you do not need as much. When you are young, you need that rock to create the blade, but as one ages you can use the shammy cloth. You have the facility, without going for the thrill, the big bang as it were.
With art, I paint by instinct, but when I teach aikido, there is a process, an investigative process. I view it more as sharing. I get an idea as I am teaching and will go with it. I call everybody up when I teach, not just senior students. I want to see if it works with everyone -that is what we are about and that is what makes aikido exciting. Now, I am interested in exploring ways for those who are physically challenged to experience this amazing art that is aikido.
Perhaps it might be possible to talk about some of the significant figures that have passed through the New York Aikikai: Angel Alvarez, T.K. Lee, Bruce Buffins, and Terry Dobson.
Harvey: It is difficult to describe many of these people, because I did not actually know them that well. I just went to the dojo to practice, and then I went home to paint. We really did not hang out with one another, except for maybe Terry Dobson and Angel. I liked and respected Terry. He was a true wild man. We were very friendly. Sensei was good to Terry. Terry was given a class at the New York Aikikai, and I always tried to take his class. He was fascinating, and he always had some valuable things to show and offer. He asked Sensei if he could open up a dojo, which he did, not very far away from the Aikikai. It became known as the Bond Street Dojo. Sensei gave him his blessing. The dojo almost became a sister dojo. I would take Angel’s class on Saturday, and afterwards would go down to Terry’s dojo and practice and have a good time: myself, Bruce Bookman, Harry McCormick, and sometimes Angel. We had a close relationship. Terry was teaching in New Haven, Connecticut where Ellis Amdur started. Sybella Hain and I would also teach in New Haven.; we would all rotate going up to teach, and that is where I met Ellis. Eventually Terry moved out to the West Coast and was very popular there. Terry was creative and inventive. Sugano sensei was also creative. We would have a weapons class, and he would suddenly turn all the lights out!
T.K. Lee has recently passed. I liked him and Sensei liked him. He was a major character. When Yamada sensei first came to the US, he was assigned to pick up Sensei at the airport, and he lost Sensei on the subway. One of the first persons at the New York Aikikai was Mike Abrahams and Mike is great. He is still around. Then came Hal Lehrman, who is senior to me. He was in aikido before I was. We are all good friends. We often talk about the old days.
Final Thoughts?
Harvey: To me, there is a power, a beauty and a special quality to aikido; in that sense, I do see a crossover between painting and aikido. Both have a special quality where you are not reinventing the wheel, but what you bring to the practice gives it life; usually, enthusiasm engenders power. People want to know: Is aikido this or that. Contrary to anything that you can point to in your mind, it is not this or that. It is both. You are the one that makes it both. I remember Sugano sensei saying, “One blow, one kill.” He talked about the actual paradox of doing a martial art—you should have the ability to be effective or else it is not a martial art, yet at the same time, the training is intertwined with compassion. How do you reconcile the two things? But that is life. There is no formula.
You need to be in a position where you are the arbiter of that which comes through you. In a painting, there is not only one color. It is like a jewel with many facets that reflect off each other and gives it its brilliance. The fact is that there are all these facets, and the task is to bring them together. If there is only one, there is something lacking. I am very fortunate to have had a guiding light from both Yamada sensei and Sugano sensei, and it is up to us to carry the light forward to the students now and in the future. New York Aikikai will change over time; some people will stay, and some will go, but the lineage will continue. It is an organic whole, like a shining jewel with all its facets made up of various shades of power and compassion.
Afterword:
Thank you ever so much Konigsberg sensei for spending time capturing your aikido experiences over your 55 years of practice. For all readers who are reading this interview I would invite you to explore Konigsberg sensei’s website where you will be captured by his explosive and creative art—aikido and other powerful pictures—they will draw you in. Additionally, if you wish to see Konigsberg sensei working at his craft as he conducts an aikido class you will find it on his website. He will take your center with a wink of an eye, but with a grin and a smile. The video is: Aikido, Life and Art in Harmony.
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Interviewer, David Ross, godan, shidoin, Chief Instructor of Aiki-Muenster located in Muenster, Germany. David began his aikido training in New Jersey in the early 90’s, and eventually moved to the New York Aikikai, where he trained on a daily basis. There, he was both a student and substitute instructor under the direction of Yamada Sensei and Sugano Sensei, before moving to Zurich, Switzerland in September of 2006.
In 2013, David established his own dojo, Aiki-Muenster together with his aikido partner Gabi Bixel, yondan, shidoin, with regular classes and weekend seminars. The Aiki-Muenster Dojo is associated with Yamada sensei, and is a member dojo of USAF and Sansuikai, Yamada sensei’s European organization. David possess advanced academic degrees in philosophy, religion, and engineering. Now retired, he spends his time teaching and training aikido, reading and writing for aikido publications, and biking for outdoor activities.
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