“’Hara’ only overlaps with the ‘center of gravity’ in terms of meaning here and there.  In my opinion, it does not serve one too well to only think of the hara as the center of gravity. There are many more connotations associated with the hara that are not associated with the center of gravity.  In addition, the center of gravity is not a specific location in the body.  It is dynamic by nature and is in a constant state of flux.  This is because movement, which affects the positioning and balance of the body, is always in a constant state of flux.

When I first started training, I was always told things like "move from your center," "use your center," "concentrate on your center," etc.  As a teacher, I realize that if you do not have your center already, these phrases are meaningless since there is no common point of reference being used - no shared context.  I have only found them to be useful in terms of getting a student to grasp the concept that there is more to know and do than they already know and can do.  For me, phrases like these have only become truly efficient when I combine them with some basic exercises that work to establish a common reference and/or context regarding "center."

For example, it is important to realize that the center of anything can only exist because there are at least two peripheries.  It is also mandatory that these peripheries be in a relationship with each other - a co-dependent one.  Thus, if you want to find your center, particularly before you know what that is and/or before you experience what that is, seek to establish a co-dependent relationship between the two peripheries that are the very things that mark and define ‘center.’  In particular, and most commonly, be sure that your head and feet are in a constant and co-dependent relationship to each other.  When they are, you will have established centered movement.  When they are not, you will have lost center.  This is why awareness must not only go to some point abstractly located proximate to your navel, awareness must travel the length of one's body (from head to toe) - then center will be manifested naturally, almost of its own accord.”

XX:  I agree with what David Valadez has said here (and on his web site by the way).   To expand on that a bit, I would say that when students have no common point of reference [in regards to ‘center’], it is much better to talk about maintaining your posture and moving from where your legs attach to the trunk of your body (as the center of your movement).  That will help people ensure that their "head and feet are in a constant and co-dependent relationship to each other," resulting in somewhat centered movement.

Several really good sempai have explained to me that ‘hara’ is ‘emptiness.’  That has been making more and more sense to me lately (in terms of feeling).  It helps me work on keeping things intimate and not personal.

Deshi:  How does one become the center of the technique?

Sensei:  to become the center you must in every way be worthy of the center.  Lack but a little, and your moment as center is at best short-lived.  To hold the center is to hold the workings of the Universe.  To support that burden you cannot be found wanting.

XX:  I was referring to something I read on your site about Aikido being the reconciliation of all paradoxes, or something like that. It was well said and I cannot do it justice.

I comment on it here, because that is how I see "center" too.  Center exists between unification and separation, between tension and release, between moving and rest, and between holding in and pushing out.  Also, if you model your Aikido technique after the kotodama (like O-sensei), then you never stop expanding during Aikido technique. Since your arms (etc.) have a physical limitation to how much they can lengthen, to continually expand, you have to continually move your center (and consequently uke's center) to allow this to happen.  I have a lot more work/research to do in this area!

About the center, the thing that eludes me is how to recognize where to make space, such that the feeling of center-contact is maintained along with the direction you have set (and are maintaining).  I can do an okay job of this in basic waza (because someone already did a good job mapping out the general choreography), but I do not have much experience doing this in free waza yet (not on purpose). The center of that seems to exist between desire and aversion (closer to the aversion side than the desire side) -- so it is not the "exact center.”  I've been playing around with the balance of this, being that Uke has to balance this out by behaving a bit closer to the desire side than the aversion side for this all to work out as a system with a center.  However, what does that say about doing Aikido with the “kamikaze” type attackers? 

The question, "Where's the hara?" has difficult answers.

Senshin Center: Please, let me ask you to expand a bit more on this notion of desire and aversion (and the ‘in-between’ of those things).  I believe I have a sense of what you are referring to, but I would want to make sure I am thinking of the same things before I attempt to add anything more to what you are saying.

Let me say this now however: Your position reminds me of something I have been studying in the Heart Sutra of late - which also relates to your mentioning of the concept, "emptiness.”  In particular, your notions of desire and aversion remind me of the line in the sutra that reads, "no attainment and no non-attainment." However, let me hear more, please, before I go on.

XX:  I can explain what I mean regarding desire and aversion in the physical sense easily enough. When you move your body close to your partner's body and bend your arms a bit to get even closer - to get more control - you are way on the "desire" side.  When you move or keep your body at arms length (or more) from your partner - to have more safety - you are way on the "aversion" side.  I find I need to set things up by starting with a little extra “desire” and then move away (or maybe I should say "expand away"), so that my arms are almost 95% extended - so I can keep the center-to-center connection.  If I were to get to 100% extended, I would be totally in "aversion.”

I think you can describe the feeling of emptiness better than I can, so please feel invited to elaborate.  My limited understanding of the Heart Sutra is that it speaks to the very sophisticated idea of how the "absolute" is relative to the relative - absolutely.  (Kind of like recursion!)  This kind of monistic-dualism or dualistic-monism (however you like to think about it) is certainly the heart of the issue for going beyond the typical Aikido practice.

A whole lot of this is murky, because of translation issues.  For instance, the idea of separation and unification is a little confusing in that when American's say "separation" we mean, "100% cut off in all ways", and the Japanese words we are translating more have a sense of, "separated from the whole in some way(s), but still connected to the whole in some other way(s)".  However, I am way out of my league in articulating this kind of thing.

I suppose I would sum this all up by saying that my hara is located around intestines that move somewhat freely.  My physical hara is generally empty.  Maintaining a very tangible feeling of emptiness is a good tool to help me move in an optimally connected and reflexive way.  That is what hara means to me, now, at my current level.

Senshin Center: If you will allow me to work my way through my own thoughts, using your ideas/terms…

I think I may get what you are saying.  Definitely, it is very interesting and it has certainly made a simple question (i.e. “Where is your hara?”) that wanted so badly to stay at the level of anatomical locations take notice of itself – forcing it to become more than it ever thought possible. 

I think at one level you are using a binary logic (e.g. desire and aversion) to demonstrate a tactical optimum – one particular to the maai necessary to maintain both connection and a center-to-center relationship between Nage and Uke.  At this level, which is deceptively simple, it almost seems as if your position is making use of a philosophy of balance and/or of middle ground.  In particular, you are suggesting that one cannot be “too close” or “too far,” that one must be “just right” (in between “too far” and “too close”).  Since we are talking about “center” here, or even “hara,” we are to understand that this “just right” is interdependent to both having a sense of center and an experience of center.  That is to say, to speak of “hara” or of “center” (which we may or may not want to equate), but to not understand either one as part of an interdependency is to miss something huge about “hara” or “center.”  If I may, I would say, to be stuck on the anatomically positioning of “hara” or “center,” such that we lose track of this interdependency, is to be stuck at a very mundane or embryonic level of understanding and experience regarding “hara” or “center.”

Your position also asks us to realize that any sense of “hara,” or of “center,” should include a correct notion of body/mind.  That is to say, we cannot find “center” by physical means alone – absent of spiritual, mental, and emotional considerations.  While theoretically, it may seem very possible to “locate” one’s “hara” or “center,” in actual practice, where “hara” or “center” is most needed and most presumed, simply knowing where one’s “hara” or “center” is on or in one’s body amounts to little.  Such an attempt opens one up to Korzybski’s critical statement of, "A map is not the territory.” 

If we look at your examples of desire and aversion, we can see that we are indeed looking at things of the mind – things that do have an affect on the body.  For example, often we are too close or too far because we are anxious, or too insecure.  It is rarely the case that we are just “too close” or just “too far.”  There is usually an emotional content to our physical expressions.  For example, depending upon our personal history and make-up, our insecurities can have us attempting to smother uke’s actions, rather than letting them complete themselves.  Lacking in faith, we force techniques hoping that some sort of application of Target Creation will suffice in meeting our perceived idea of “success.”  “Success” mistakenly being understood and experienced as an end to one’s feelings of insecurity.  As a result, we stop relating to the whole of the situation, we come to neglect the interdependency that exists between our center, uke’s center, the center of the technique, the center of the encounter, and the center of the Universe.  All that lies at the “center” of things is our insecurity and our attempts to quell it, but this “center” is no center since it negates all else that is in relationship to it.  It is egocentric, and by that we mean that it is neglectful even of its own periphery.  Thus, it is an anti-center, of sorts. 

The same would apply for being too much on the side of aversion – it too may be seated in insecurity and anxiousness.  That is to say, a particular state of mind can easily affect our physical use of center in the direction of either extreme.  If we are of a personal history and make-up that has us more fleeing than smothering when we attempt to alleviate or address our fears, it is quite possible that we will lose the center of the technique, and the tactical center of proper body mechanics, simply because we adopt the anti-center of egocentricism (as we attempt to find ourselves a new “secure” state of body/mind via pushing or keeping Uke away). 

Therefore, it would seem to me that you are quite correct in suggesting that our notion of center could have, or even should have, these notions of “just right,” of body/mind, and of interdependency.  I think these elements are definitely important and do indeed seem to be some of the major things missing when we instructors say to students, “Use your center.”  That is to say, and referring back to an earlier comment I made, it is the absence of these things that leads to a loss of mutual context or point of reference, which leads to a lack of understanding and/or immediate availability of center – which leads to the (practical) meaninglessness of such phrases.  My early attempts to get students to focus upon the interdependent relationship that should exist between their head and their feet (and thus the center of those two peripheries) is my effort to get folks to realize that there is more to “hara” or “center” then mere location (as on a map).  It is my attempt to get them to realize that there are also these other things involved: “just rightness,” body/mind considerations, and a law of interdependency. 

At another level, one born out of your use of interdependency, your position is extremely complicated, but also extremely sophisticated.  Earlier, I mentioned the center of Uke, the center of Nage, the center of the technique, the center of the encounter, and the center of the Universe.  We may want to understand these things as permanent and individual entities.  However, because of the law of interdependency, we have to acknowledge that these things do not exist until they all exist.  Yet, equally, we must say, because that is so, because they have no independent nature of their own, these things do not exist.  Because the latter is what we may misunderstand the most, we may be better serving ourselves by understanding center not as some thing or some things we should gain but as some thing or some things we should lose.  I can acknowledge that to some, particularly those who train only or mostly in Shu level training and/or in Kihon waza, this last statement is absurd and even irrelevant.  However, equally, I can recognize that to those who are fulfilling the Shu-Ha-Ri model and/or doing a lot of spontaneous training, pointing to a place on your body and saying, “Use that,” is equally absurd and irrelevant.

XX: I agree with your line of thinking almost entirely. I admit that the majority of my class is Kihon Waza - but what I am researching is certainly not “basics for the sake of basics.”  I have read several papers on Shu-Ha-Ri, but I think I do not have it well understood. My assumption is that the Shu level is like the Shoden level, the Ha level is like the Chuden level, and the Ri level is like the Okuden level, but that is just my guess from trying to figure it out from context.

I love the idea of “egocentric” being an anti-center - in the way we are thinking about center.  My thoughts are that ego is what separates you from your true Self (the true Self you are supposed to be working on manifesting by means of Aikido practice).  I suppose I consider my true Self to be the center of how my mind and hara form an interdependent relationship, and therefore my ego can never truly be "centric.” The term "ego-centric" seems to consist of antipodes.

When you say, "because of the law of interdependency, we have to acknowledge that these things do not exist until they all exist."

My thoughts to add about this are:

a.  I think I call this the principle of correspondence. (As above, so below, as it is below, so it is above).  Basically, all principles are meta-principles of that one.

b.  I guess I feel that my center, and the center of the Universe exist, and the center of the technique, and the center of the Uke all exist, even if the Uke is unaware that any of these centers exist.

So, while I see no disagreement here, I am not convinced about "understanding center not as some thing or some things we should gain but as some thing or some things we should lose." Maybe - again I am a bit dense. But I see it as you probably have to gain a few things as well as lose a few things for center.  It is not very easy to give some things up.

Senshin Center: All of this stems from the direct experience of witnessing aikidoka who appear to be quite skilled while performing Kihon Waza and/or institutionally approved types of Jiyu Waza or Randori, but completely fall apart under what in comparison has to be called truer spontaneous conditions.  Basic things go right out the window – things as basic as the capacity to clear the line of the attack, or enter into shikaku (especially when it is at the back of the attacker); even things as elementary as tenkan-ashi seem to be beyond the practitioner’s access.  Undoubtedly then, something as essential, and as sophisticated, as “center” is also most often absent.  Under such conditions, the problem does not seem to be one of “Where is my center?” as much as it is “How do I gain or maintain access to center?”  The former question is going to have us looking for places on the body.  The latter question is going to have us concerned with those things that prevent us from maintaining and/or gaining access to center.  Thus, more than physical location is going to become significant.  Naturally, then, we are going to have to simultaneously look for mental, emotional, and spiritual components, since these things very often make us lose or have no access to our center.

In my opinion, this is a problem for both the instructor attempting to lead others to true spontaneity with the art, and this is a problem for any student of the art attempting such an accomplishment.  I would not say that this problem is universal or even that we should make it universal – not everyone will or will want to train toward such aims.  However, for those that do, the absence of center within spontaneous training environments and the reasons why it becomes absent are significant issues.  With these concerns comes dissatisfaction with the usual discourse (e.g. “Put your mind in your center.”  “Use your center.”  Etc.).  This is because under such training conditions, putting your mind somewhere is not the problem, is not something you are not doing.  The problem is that you are putting your mind too many places, that too many things are fettering it.  To put your mind in any place, it is quickly realized under such training conditions, is to lose center.  We lose center when we put our mind in any place because our mind (and thus our body) becomes captured by the place where we allow our mind to rest.  This is basic Takuan, but I feel it is still applicable and thus definitely remains insightful.  Moreover, within intense spontaneous training conditions, the mind being captured by various places, things, feelings, etc., is readily visible.  That is to say, this is a real problem.  So maybe there is indeed something to Takuan’s caveat when he says, “You should not place your mind within yourself.  Bracing the mind in the body is something done only at the inception of training, when one is a beginner.”

If we look at the examples of desire (i.e. too close) and aversion (i.e. too far away), and note how these things may very well be related to the egocentric or the anti-center of having to address our own fears and insecurities and thus being reduced to acting or reacting in a habitual manner, we can see that it is our mind (emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, etc.) that is being captured by our fears or our insecurities.  The thing with spontaneous training environments, in contrast to Kihon Waza training environments, is that they have a way of reducing us very quickly to our most habitual selves – which almost always has us related to the world and others via our fears.  When that happens we lose “center” because we are allowing our mind to “rest” in our emotions or in our subjective and habitual experience of reality (i.e. “I’m afraid, must smother” or “I’m afraid, must retreat or keep at bay”).  When our mind (and thus our body) rests in the anti-center, for whatever reason, we lose touch with our Uke, with the engagement, and even with ourselves.  But what does it mean to be in touch with ourselves, with the engagement, and with Uke?  What does that mean in terms of center?  Answering this, I feel, will bring us to this notion of interdependency and why we might gain more by understanding center as more akin to emptiness than to an anatomical position on or in the body.

When we ourselves are centered, it is assumed that we are centered in relation to our own body AND in relation to what action we are performing or attempting.  This is what makes our sense of center practical (i.e. able to be employed under spontaneous conditions).  When we understand “center” in this way, we understand that a center-to-center connection with another person warrants that any sense of center must include a notion of being multi-relational and/or harmonious with multiple centers.  That is to say, if I am moving in a “centered” fashion in regards to my own body mechanics but my own body mechanics is not in harmony with what my opponent is doing, then my sense of center will quickly falter and become extinct or false the second I engage my attacker.  This is a way that we can understand being “too close” or being “too far” – too stuck in desire or too stuck in aversion: our center is out of synch with Uke’s and the center of the engagement. 

However, in relating the center of our being to the center of someone else, because we are addressing the issue of possessing a practical sense of center, we are also relating these centers to the center of a tactical architecture.  In the same way as before, when I am not connecting to the center of the tactical architecture, or when I am not using the properly “centered” architecture for how I am opting to relate my center to the center of uke, my center again falters and becomes extinct or false.  For example, when I am too close, my center becomes too stressed and my posture may break; when I am too far, I may have to overextend in order to reach my attacker, etc.  In the same way, this architectural center relates to the center of the engagement, since the center of the engagement determines the “rightness” of the tactical architecture.  Continuing onward, the center of the engagement is itself determined by the center of the universe and/or what we might want to consider the natural laws of the Universe.  Thus, as an extension of the same reasoning, if I lose one center, I lose them all.  If I have only one center, I have none.  I must have them all in order to have any of them.

When I do not have my center, when I am not moving in a bio-mechanically efficient manner, I am weak and inefficient and my attacker easily dominates me.  When I am moving in a bio-mechanically correct manner but doing so irrelevant to what my attacker is doing, my movement becomes awkward and inefficient and my attacker easily dominates me.  When I have my center, and I am relating that center to the center of my attacker, but I am not relating these things to the center of tactical architecture I am opting to employ, my technique becomes forced and inefficient and my attacker easily dominates me.  When I have my center, and I am relating it to the center of my attacker and to the center of the tactical architecture I am opting to use, but I am not relating it to the center of the total engagement, my awareness becomes staccato or too narrow and my movement becomes inefficient and my attacker easily dominates me.  When I have my center, and I am relating it to the center of my attacker and to the center of the tactical architecture I am using, and when all of these things are being properly related to the center of the total engagement, but I am out of synch with the center of the Universe, Nature’s laws regarding movement, energy, the transference of energy, and even Chance, work against me and my movement becomes inefficient and my attacker easily dominates me.  In short, I can fall from center nearly anywhere, and when I do, I fall from every center.  Moreover, if it is the case that my emotional experiences can pull me off center and toward the anti-center of egocentricism, then it is obvious that I will have to drop a great many things like insecurity, fear, anxiousness, etc., in order to remain centered.  

In the end, I am suggesting, it is the dropping off of things that will probably lend itself more to having a practical sense of center within spontaneous environments than anything else.  If the problem is the abiding mind or the fettered mind, giving such a mind one more thing to locate and/or to think about might be doing the very opposite of what we wish.  This brings us right back to Takuan’s caveat.  Having fewer things to be fettered with, or more accurately, having more capacity to be unattached to such places, things, emotions, etc., might be the answer.  It may be that by losing more we may gain everything.