The training process is one of discovery, recovery, and a gradual uncovering of what makes you who you are. The process can be described through metaphor as an archaeological dig. In the early days as a White Belt we work on the surface stuff. Uncovering and discovering the positions and techniques that make Jiu-Jitsu what it is. We get excited and use our discoveries to spur us onto developing our game and enhancing our athletic play in the game, further deepening our understanding of techniques and positions, of our opponents and our competitive natures.
But all of this is just surface analysis. It is getting to know the soil and much like using a radar scanner to get a glimpse of where to dig, sooner or later your going to have to use the shovel and haul the dirt out on your own. Being mindful and aware of your practice and the process of the practice itself will allow you to begin to uncover the layers of sediment. At this stage we are beginning to work with general issues that go hand in hand with ego release, male dominance and fighting in general, all the typical 'Alpha' stuff that people will experience on the mats. Dealing with fear, claustrophobia, loss, self-image, and attachment to progress or perceived progress standards. The practice allows us to refine the soil and continue to uncover more and more of ourselves in the process. All the insecurities and fears hidden by our ego's, and self image over the years like so much sediment layering over who we truly are. Once we find our shovel and begin to dig, we are effectively stripping all these layers away. This is done delicately sometimes with tools such as brushes and finer instruments to take off little pieces at a time, while not disturbing or damaging the treasure below. At other times it can be like using a backhoe to excavate large amounts of soil at once, ripping through the ground at your feet. Training sessions are versatile in that way: sometimes you need a shovel to do the heavy lifting, and at other times you need something gentler, very subtle and refined, just to dust off, as it were. But as we know, sometimes uncovering an ancient city can take a lifetime. There is no timetable we can count on. There is no guarantee that we will reach the forgotten treasure anytime soon. What is promised is that it is there, waiting, and at times we can hear it calling to us, begging to be uncovered. The path of training, if followed correctly and with persistence, will always lead to the recovery of our lost selves, one scoop at a time.
The above excerpt was taken from a book on meditation that I picked-up recently. In the passage they were talking about mediation training, but I feel that it is equally applicable to Jiu-jitsu training as well. My adaptation of the meanings and process of mediation to BJJ are fueled by my experiences with my time on the mats. What I have felt, worked through, and continue to look forward to on the mats is nothing short of radical self-realization. How it happens, and if it happens are not always totally clear, or maybe I am not always able to observe what it really going on, and learn from it. Change happens. If you want to be able to see it while it is happening, then you need to at least be aware that it is happening, otherwise we can only document the fact that it has happened through reflection and hindsight. It is a challenge to be along for the ride completely aware of the process during change, and the challenge comes from the ability to let it all go. You cannot direct it or force it. You can't really shape it, just be along for the ride. And that is enough.
So last week I had a good 'roll' on the mats with one of my friends and students. It was my first semi-competitive roll in quite sometime, and as a result, I was not relaxing as I wanted to, I was gassing out early, and things just didn't go my way. I was fighting hard enough to be pushing myself and trying to win all the time. It was a 15 minute match that ended in a mutual tap-out due to cardio failure. We were both exhausted. As this happened did I just relax and let go, and see the whole thing as a journey of self-discovery? Did that thought even cross my mind? Not a chance. Me, like everyone else, was attached to wanting the win. I had a consistent and continuous dialogue in my head running the entire time. That alone is tiring. All this high level self-inquiry stuff went out the window. I was worried about my moves, I was thinking about how to win the match, I was getting tired. I did not have any self inspiring moments. I was just trying to hold on and win. I was the coach after all, didn't I have to win?
After the match ended, and I was being told what a good match it was, and how everyone had enjoyed watching us roll, did that make me feel any better? Did I even hear them, or was I wrapped up in disappointment of myself for gassing out and not being able to finish my opponent, for feeling that somehow I should have been able to control things more, and that I was really out of shape. My mind began to shovel that dirt on top of my performance and protect my ego from what was really happening. I couldn't finish the match. I wasn't good enough on that day. I was out of shape, but that isn't an excuse. It shouldn't be disappointing, it is a learning experience, and why can't I just be happy for my student who had a tough match that day with his coach and came out with a win- he was able to stall out and defend against the finish. Back to the drawing board...after a good roll why did I feel that all I was left with was fear and insecurity? Then again, on the plus side- it does feel good to sweat.A new perspective
Over the last couple years, I have had an ongoing conversation with a friend of mine who has had various thoughts and hurdles in his understanding of what training means to him, and his life. Throughout our talks, the nature of the questions that were coming up also forced me into considering what it is about what I do that I enjoy so much. When we first met it was at a BJJ seminar. From there, naturally our friendship grew around training. At times he was training because he wanted to protect himself, for the 'real' street self-defence, and military combat applications, to training for a desired increased knowledge base, and training for enjoyment- for the fun if it all. And likewise, over the years all of those reasons proved to be not enough, or not 'right' for him at the time. With deeper examination into self-defence it was discovered that learning to fight (and sometimes fight dirty) was such a little part of protecting yourself and loved ones that it didn't make sense to continue with training for that reason alone. At one time there was a career in the military, so preparatory training was in order, but when life goals changed then there was again not enough reason to continue with training on that level, training for the enjoyment of it was loosing its appeal because of internal pressure and structure of the class environments was beginning to not be enjoyable, it just wasn't the place where he wanted to be and it became less and less important to continue, the desire for competition came and left, etc. The various motivations that brought him to the mats were not enough to keep him there. Through it all, I had been and continue to be, on the mats. I really enjoy training. I have trained in a few different arts, and different styles, so when one lost its appeal for me, I just took up a new one, but it was still training. So what has kept me in it all these years that didn't for my friend? The personal satisfaction and release of stress in my life, coupled with the enjoyment of learning new things and figuring out why my body works the way it does. Was it the collecting of things, such as belts, trophies, and medals. Was it because I liked identifying with the Zen culture that I've seen portrayed in media and movies, was it all about being Stormshadow or Spiderman?
I believe that it has come down to the enjoyment of the process. The very essence of training. I deeply enjoy the process. I have little (but come on, everyone has some) attachment to the outcome. Going through the motions and the involvement of training in and of itself is enough for me. My enjoyment comes from the minutes on the mats with friends and competitors. It is something that you can't force, or attempt to control. It is also something that I was unable to articulate fully myself, and wasn't until one of the recent conversations where my friend came to me and stated that he had begun training (again), and this time it was a bit different. He went to a known gym where people were friendly and he enjoyed the atmosphere. He knew this going in. This time he stated that instead of trying to 'enjoy' the training and make it 'fun', he just relaxed and focused on learning. Whatever they were doing, he was trying to learn his best. Forget everything else and just go through the motions that the coach was asking for. learn. This, I realized, was him honoring the process. He had been able to let things go, and train for training to get better on the mats. Because of this, he had fun in class. There was enjoyment, but it was not forced. It was pure, and of itself. He proved that you can't force a good thing. When you stop trying to shape the outcome, and let BJJ be BJJ then all the benefits of training come forwards. It is the process that we enjoy, and it is because of this that we return to the mats day after day. It is a stage of uncovering that hidden treasure or lost city. It is allowing the tools of archaeology to dig through the self. And it is done because we enjoy it.
