The Method Of Aikido-
Cancer and the Search for Peace

By Steve Kanney (Scarsdale Aikido)
stevekanney@yahoo.com

"Besides my regular doctor, I go to see another one once a year just for a check up."
"What kind of doctor are you going to see?" my new friend asked.
"An Oncologist."
"What kind of doctor is that?" "Oh, he specializes in dealing with cancer."
"What, do you have a family history of cancer or something?" she asked.
"Hmmmmmmmm." I thought about it for a few moments. After scanning through everyone in my family I could think of, "Well, no. I think the only person in my family who ever had cancer was me."

These sorts of conversations were relatively normal in my life. I contracted cancer when I was 26. The doctor initially told me in essence that he had good news and bad news. The good news is that he thought I would probably only live another six months or so. The bad news is that I would want to die a lot sooner. That was in 1987, and so I've had some time to think about things.

For the most part, I just ran away from the problem. I was good at emergencies. I had surgery and they got the entire tumor. I was then told it was all just a bad dream, and my life would return to normal. Of course, I still had the option of worrying about my periodic check ups. I really just wanted to have a normal life, and so I ran away from this terrible experience. I wound up getting married and having a son a few years later.

It's easy to forget a bad dream, but there is something about this one that just wouldn't go away. I spoke with a few people in the field of psychology, and they were chock full of answers. "It's easy," I remember hearing. "I'll tell you the secret of not fearing disease and deathÉ" They would espouse their theories, spewn across the pages of their text books; they would give me the same formulas they gave to all their patients to help them deal with their predicament. I just laughed every time and walked away. These were all just theories, ideas or programs. But the fact is none of these experts had any real experience dealing with these situations in their own lives. It was academic; it was external to their world. But most important, it would never work. How can you learn to face your fears when your mentor is more frightened than you are? There was something very real about this experience. When I left the doctors office after my initial diagnosis, I felt like pinching myself to see if I was dreaming or not. But this real experience was just some sort of academic exercise to these people.

I remember reading somewhere (I have no idea where) that real training in Aikido commences when you begin to face your mortality. I ran from this reality for 7 or 8 years. Finally, I realized I had a problem, and it was time to face it in earnest. Not knowing where to start, I decided to use my training in Aikido to address my fears. But what did Aikido have to say about this? I had no idea. After thinking about it for some time, the word irimi popped into my head. Of course! Don't run away from the problem...enter into it! Suddenly I was very happy. I decided to recall all the situations I experienced during my life when I had to face my own mortality and compare notes. What happened in each scenario and how did I respond? What clues could I derive from these different situations?

I picked two divergent situations. The first was when I was diagnosed with cancer. I was terrified. The second was when I was pushed in front of an oncoming vehicle as a child. I was relaxed and happy. Everything slowed down and I felt unified with the whole world. If the car ran me over, it was me running over me, so there was no problem. It was also very mundane. When the wheels of the car singed both of my knees, I just went to pick up my school books and continue walking home. The driver of the car did not see I was pushed and yelled at me like I was some sort of suicidal lunatic. I remember thinking "what's his problem...he missed me." Then I just turned and walked away.

So I relived each situation in my mind over and over again. Terrified...relaxed and happy...terrified...relaxed and happy...terrified...relaxed and happy. What was I scared of? That's simple. I was afraid of losing myself after dying. When I had cancer, I had a very good idea about who this self was. I had a good philosophy of life. Develop a number of interests and evaluate yourself on how you are doing with each. Aikido, family, work, friends, etc. That way if one area was doing poorly, it was unlikely they all would follow suit. I tried thinking I was this sort of person or that sort of person as well. It was a little difficult because I did tend to change from time to time.

So when I had cancer, I was terrified of losing this self after death. But what about when I was almost run over by the car. I looked everywhere in my mind for this self as I relived the experience and a terrifying thought emerged: I couldn't find this self! I didn't have to wait to die to lose this self. I could do it while I was alive! In truth, the ideas I had of who and what I am was nothing but an illusion. I was much closer to knowing the reality of my existence when I was almost run over by the car. All these ideas of who I was did not seem to exist then. This simple insight left me with an enormous problem: I spent all day long thinking about my self, trying to establish it as a good self, compare it to other people's selves, etc. All I did morning, noon and night was try to support an illusion. No wonder I was so unhappy! But how do I solve this problem? With what do I fill the vacuum when I forget about this illusion? Suddenly my fears came forward and would not go away because I could lose this illusion at any moment; I did not have to die first. So I summed things up: I lived with an illusion every moment of my life and it made me quite unhappy, and yet I was more terrified of giving it up than I was of being unhappy for the rest of my life.

At the time I was going to a psychologist to help me keep my stress levels down. I was getting divorced and I was concerned high levels of stress might lead to cancer again. I remember going to my next session. I was convinced I popped a cork or something, so I refused to say anything. The therapist kept asking me what happened. Finally I told her I would not say because she would think I was nuts. She told me how she believed in aliens and went to seminars with people who were abducted to other planets and then returned. I conceded the point and told her my story. Her conclusion: I was not nuts, I was just wrong. So we agreed to disagree. I donŐt have any comment on being nuts (although many of my friends do), but I knew I wasnŐt wrong. Just like the experience of having cancer was real for me and not for the therapist, so this insight was real just the same.

I believe different people have different ways of dealing with these sorts of things. I was scared, and I wanted something to grab on to that was somehow solid and could give me answers. I started looking around and remember one day picking up a book on Zen. All they did was talk about how people have illusory notions of themselves, and yet they hold on to them for dear life despite the fact that it is the cause of their unhappiness. That sounded familiar to me, so I thought I would give it a try. I remember talking with Sugano Sensei after I found a good teacher in Zen. He told me "In Aikido we don't explain things very well, so sometimes the truth just sort of sneaks up on you," referring to my insight with his usual wry wit. He also said it was an individual's choice whether to take up a meditation practice or not. Since I apparently chose to do so, it could be very helpful in providing an intellectual understanding of what I was learning in Aikido. However, Aikido is a method in and of itself, and meditation practices are not a requirement.

Well, I don't have the answer to my question as of yet: how to eliminate my fear of losing my illusory self and what fills the gap. However, I do have an explanation and I am not nuts. After this experience, my training in Aikido took on an entirely different character. I wish I had more answers, but at least knowing the question and where to search for the answer is a good startÉ