Thanks for this engaging article. It was floated in my Lesswrong email digest. The part about “extending ki” in Aikido stuck with me and I revisited it a few times. Here’s my take, inspired by David Deutsch’s work on explanations in The Beginning of Infinity.
Ki is a less good explanation for why the practice of Aikido works than your explanation of body mechanics and how the brain models movement. Ki is parochial because the practice of martial arts is still steeped in tradition, meaning the knowledge is handed down from master to apprentice, and therefore it is not allowed to criticise the master’s teachings. You did not believe in Ki but you went along with it, not openly criticising it but criticising it for yourself, and eventually found a better explanation.
What I’m wondering is if the explanation of Ki was instrumental to yourself learning Aikido (if it gave you i.e. focus during training) or if simply pretending to believe in Ki allowed you to train with that master and thereby acquire skill (strange powers).
What I’m wondering is if the explanation of Ki was instrumental to yourself learning Aikido (if it gave you i.e. focus during training) or if simply pretending to believe in Ki allowed you to train with that master and thereby acquire skill (strange powers).
It was pretty central to learning to do related things. It’s still an interface I use.
I liken it to how in choir I was taught to imagine landing on high notes from above instead of reaching up to them from below. This wasn’t about sliding pitch; it was about how I was imagining hitting them. I’m sure the instruction was meant to change my throat musculature or something, but I still don’t really know what the fix is. It’s still something I’m glad to remember when I’m singing high notes. Even though notes’ pitches aren’t actually spatially higher or lower.
With ki, there’s a feeling of flow I’ve learned to track, like my movements extend past my limbs. It totally changes something about how my body moves and how my spatial awareness tracks the objects around me.
In the years since writing this article, I’ve found that it’s still helpful to use ki to teach people this stuff. I often preface it with something like “This is just a framework for inviting your body to do something.” Sometimes I give the singing analogy. But for whatever reason, talking about body mechanics just doesn’t allow for the same thing as does “extending ki”.
There might be better teaching methods that don’t refer to ki. I just haven’t personally noticed them.
Thanks for this engaging article. It was floated in my Lesswrong email digest.
The part about “extending ki” in Aikido stuck with me and I revisited it a few times.
Here’s my take, inspired by David Deutsch’s work on explanations in The Beginning of Infinity.
Ki is a less good explanation for why the practice of Aikido works than your explanation of body mechanics and how the brain models movement. Ki is parochial because the practice of martial arts is still steeped in tradition, meaning the knowledge is handed down from master to apprentice, and therefore it is not allowed to criticise the master’s teachings. You did not believe in Ki but you went along with it, not openly criticising it but criticising it for yourself, and eventually found a better explanation.
What I’m wondering is if the explanation of Ki was instrumental to yourself learning Aikido (if it gave you i.e. focus during training) or if simply pretending to believe in Ki allowed you to train with that master and thereby acquire skill (strange powers).
It was pretty central to learning to do related things. It’s still an interface I use.
I liken it to how in choir I was taught to imagine landing on high notes from above instead of reaching up to them from below. This wasn’t about sliding pitch; it was about how I was imagining hitting them. I’m sure the instruction was meant to change my throat musculature or something, but I still don’t really know what the fix is. It’s still something I’m glad to remember when I’m singing high notes. Even though notes’ pitches aren’t actually spatially higher or lower.
With ki, there’s a feeling of flow I’ve learned to track, like my movements extend past my limbs. It totally changes something about how my body moves and how my spatial awareness tracks the objects around me.
In the years since writing this article, I’ve found that it’s still helpful to use ki to teach people this stuff. I often preface it with something like “This is just a framework for inviting your body to do something.” Sometimes I give the singing analogy. But for whatever reason, talking about body mechanics just doesn’t allow for the same thing as does “extending ki”.
There might be better teaching methods that don’t refer to ki. I just haven’t personally noticed them.