Bowing

One reveals oneself in the way one bows. In the Aikido dojo, you bow when you enter and when you come onto the mat. The spirit in which you bow is very important; you reveal yourself by the way you bow. An empty bow, while better than not bowing at all, is essentially worthless. As you bend at the waist and the neck, you want to experience a feeling of vulnerability and humility. Your bow makes you an empty vessel into which knowledge can be poured. I used to be a terror about bowing; I would throw a student off the mat for an empty bow. It happened to me once. One teacher caught me in a flippant bow and hauled me up for my arrogance. He refused to let me finish the class and sent me off in disgrace. It took me about three weeks to get over the embarrassment and go back to class. You can bet that when I did go back, I tried to bow as deeply and sincerely as I could. One time I drew a bow that had to be a world-class bow. I was right there. My whole spirit was right there. When I came up, I saw him give a smile of satisfaction which he tried hard to conceal. If you bow well to a partner, to somebody who doesn't know you, that person will immediately become fully conscious of you. The bow is really the soul of the art. Too often beginners think it legalistic interference, some kind of quaint custom that has to be gotten through quickly. You bow when you get on the mat. You bow to your teacher every time he comes by and says something to you. You thank him. You thank your partner for any instruction given to you. Should you unconsciously be the cause of injury to another person, bow to them. Should another person cause you injury, bow to him as well. Thank him for the experience. When in doubt, bow.

From It's a Lot Like Dancing, by Terry Dobson