What does cooperation with another mean to me? At this time in my life, I look at cooperation with another through the lens of my Aikido studies. On the Aikido mat, students work together in pairs -- an attacker and a receiver. The person receiving accepts the energy of their partner’s attack wholly, granting it complete expression. From that point, the receiver alters the course of the attack to bring the experience to a harmonious, safe result. Without complete acceptance on the part of the receiver the experience becomes a battle.
In life off the Aikido mat, these battles become arguments that can last a long time. Whole generations of families don’t speak to each other sometimes. I admit that complete acceptance of a belief that you find personally repugnant or dangerous is difficult. And occasionally there are beliefs that it’s not a good idea to accept. But, for the most part, devoting the energy necessary to thinking deeply about another person before rejecting their belief will lead to some form on commonality and enable us to approach the problem with just the right energy that will lead to a solution.
In my own life, I’ve had experiences that reinforced the Aikido way for me. A few years ago, it became time for my husband to stop driving. This was not ok with him. He’d always been the driver, for errands, for pick-ups at the airport. Anytime, night or day, he was willing to get in the car and help out. (I appreciated that!) At first, I and other family members tried different ways to replace him at the wheel. A struggle always occurred, and resentment began to build up in him, frustration in us.
One day I thought about how not being allowed to drive might feel to him. I realized that he felt like he was in a kind of jail, unable to move around at will, unable to contribute a service that he’d always done with pride. Realizing this helped me to find a solution. I became his chauffeur! When we went out, he could tell me where to go, to slow down, to change lanes, etc. Normally I wouldn’t have welcomed this “backseat driving,” but I saw that it gave him agency, so I changed. I found I could accept most of his “orders,” and when I occasionally couldn’t, it was ok with both of us. We had found a new way to cooperate in the car that preserved safety and harmony for us and for other drivers and allowed us to go places together and enjoy the trip. And the nature of the journey is more important than the destination, as George Leonard has often reminded us in his writing.