Rock, Paper, Scissors.
Photo: Ben Staley
The path to “expertise” in jiu-jitsu is long, PhD long. This becomes apparent when you realize its complex nature, the infinite movement patterns, and the endless variation of somatotypes all punctuated with the heavy opinions of those who hold the gates to the sport. Separating truth from dogma is a daily obstacle course — a pit that most conform to rather than escape from. Unfortunately, it is a common pattern among many subcultures. This means that hierarchy, tradition, and the business model benefit from sub-optimal learning. Like most formal education institutions, the goal is not to guide students in the discipline of critical thinking, problem-solving, or autonomy but to reinforce “truths” passed down from authority, rote memorization, and misdirection of the benefits aside from “winning” or obtaining “rank.”
I believe that the main theme and goal of jiu-jitsu — dominance over another — has become the unquestionable model for everyone and everything inside the sport. Dominance is an attractive quality — seductive even — when you are the dominator. It reflects the family unit, corporations, and The State. Its dark side is that it offers no solution other than control over another. But often, control over another is a safeguard and excuse for lack of control over yourself. In contrast, the biggest insight of practicing jiu-jitsu is likely to let go, relax, and only seek control over yourself and your response to hardship. Accepting your circumstances with a calm demeanor is the only way to enter into the mythical “flow” state that most are seeking to enhance performance and personal experience. I remember the day this concept concretized in my mind. I peered out from being smashed in side control with my own arm crossing my throat. The tunnel of consciousness slowly collapsed, and I realized the death grip was mine. I was actively holding him in a dominant position out of fear. The position we are stuck in — in jiu-jitsu and in life — is so often our inability to let go of preconceived ideas. This grip can be physical as much as it can be psychosomatic. Muscles that are contracted maximally cannot change and neither can our thoughts or ideas unless we let go. I eventually tapped because it was too late, but it was one of those lessons that has never stopped providing value. Ironically, the only way I was able to discern the insight was because no one hand-fed it to me. Jiu-jitsu is a path of discovery. What you uncover is personal and therefore rarely transferable. You can only learn what you are prepared to learn. So even though I hold a certain disdain for the common core of instruction — focus on minutiae, sensationalizing competitor’s training programs, justification of intuition, and the idea that an authority is responsible for your learning — the reality is that we might need a broken system to identify what we should fix in ourselves.
Part of my letting go is the “death grip” I’ve had on the idea that I’m not qualified to talk about jiu-jitsu because I am not a black belt or a decorated competitor. The recent announcement of the Jiu-Jitsu Federation of Rio de Janeiro only allowing instruction from black belts brought this front and center, because it does not consider how individuals learn, it only seeks to protect the perception of hierarchy. No disrespect to the many professors and skilled black belts who shared knowledge with me, but more often than not, I learned the most from those who were recently in or closer to my position. More importantly, the way I learn is often by sharing what I know with others who are seeking. Teaching is learning and learning often comes through teaching.
The foundational concepts that have given me the best perspectives are detailed below. They are a culmination of converging ideas from various teachers and friends that I have threaded into central principles. Most of them are derived from what I hear is the preface answer to any jiu-jitsu problem: “It depends…” I call them “rock, paper, scissors” because they are all true but not all the time, and some may seem to contradict the other, but each plays a role relative to your circumstances. They will not — by themselves — make you a better jiu-jitsu player, and applying them will at first certainly make you worse, but eventually they may lead to a deeper understanding of yourself or your path.
Rock
Action is greater than words. Unless those words pass on a true understanding of principles that will make the action more effective. Principles cannot be a bedrock unless they are provable, nowhere is this more true than when attempting to strangle another human.
This might be the hardest concept for me because I love talking. I love talking about talking. I mask my insecurity about what to do by discussing what to do. I don’t think I’m the only one plagued by this. So it strikes me as an important realization that most discussion is void of purpose; other than distracting us from the action we are not doing and instead, just talking about.
In jiu-jitsu, you could instruct endlessly — and many do — about the details of technique, and step-by-step guidance that tries to reduce infinitely complex tasks down to reference points that enhance the probability of submission. I now think of technique instruction as pins on a map of places that you’ve traveled. They represent points of interest that your travel allowed you to better understand the landscape. But as they say “the map is not the territory.” In a group Q&A, an instructor might cover potential problems that arise in maintaining the proper position for submission, or pontificate on common errors, and hypothetical situations. It is based on their experience and carries varying degrees of subjective truth — much like visiting a foreign city and recommending a good place to get coffee — It is helpful, but it can never pass on true understanding. The goal for all instruction should be to emphasize the importance of “going there,” not just talking about it, not just viewing another’s landmarks or criticizing someone else’s journey. Don’t ask for the answer, get into the situation and figure it out. Get a map and roll around. Because in the end, the solution is based on where you place a pin.
There is only probability, there are only better questions, neither of which can be improved through words. What are you trying to do? If you don’t know how to find the answer you may need to talk it out, but only until you clearly understand the objective, then you need to move; let your actions root your understanding by finding your own reference points, and realizations.
Moving your mouth limits your other senses. Moving your body expands them. Physically exploring problems allows the mind to broaden outside of its normal perspective. Jiu-jitsu practice can be psychedelic (mind-expanding) if you approach it as such. When you speak, you anchor yourself, often not being able to even listen to anything but your own words. Speech limits all the other senses, cutting off pertinent information, and keeps the speaker closed, contained, and small. When you engage with the intention of exploration, everything opens up, I can hear, taste, and smell what is happening. You become a sponge for experience, expanding beyond the self-importance of being heard and instead, able to see your position from the outside.
Seek sensations and place your own pins there. This process is the foundation, actions are the “bedrock.”
Paper
Will is greater than opinion. Statistics inform popular opinion making the unconscious majority regress to the mean. Will, as determined by belief, and execution of that belief are only constrained when the masses (average) influence the individual. In fact, will seeks to free itself from boundaries, both external and internal. It is the freedom from — the pressure of another — and the freedom to — a defying act of creativity. It is argued that will is not free, but only by those who are unable to overcome the pressure of the average. Complacency is taught as statistically true and is accepted by the uncreative — the imprisoned.
Will is agency, a sole pursuit of individual truth. Opinion is consolidation, a group dynamic of dominant hierarchy, neutered behavior built on a lie that we cannot escape the average existence. A horde of opinions drags on you, and mass — the masses — exert a gravitational pull, making it difficult to escape the common, the average. As an unskilled person, you will depend on others to teach you. You will become conditioned by their experience and it will vastly improve your learning rate up to where they are limited, and then you will notice that you are not yourself. You are the environment. You are the average result of one method or system. A number. A statistic. In most cases, a tragedy. We all need guidance from trusted sources but the goal is to guide yourself. Industrialized instruction is not designed to teach its students to break the very boundaries that construct the system, which is why we don’t know the difference between teaching and indoctrinating. You must strive for mastery, not to become a master.
Disobedience is a virtue. It is the energy of one who rises above the median. And this happens through discipline, knowing what to fight and when. Dissent is not an act of rebellion but one of creativity. With this in mind, I can orbit the heavy opinions of others and when the time is right, use my will as a trajectory out of the average, homogenized practice.
Statistically, most matches in the Gi will end with a choke from the back. As an average jiujitsu hombre, I used to train the back take and the rear choke as the pinnacle of my game simply based on the numbers, what an average fuck I was. Roger Gracie refuses to accept that the back is superior. He denies statistics. He finishes from mount. I bet you could argue with him about it, but he wouldn’t care (reread the above about action vs. talk), he is the best Gi practitioner in the world, statistics be damned. The uncreative allows for the magnetism of the average to reverberate and become their intentions, an echo of mediocrity. Roger ignores this pull to center with his will. Your talk is superseded by his action. His will is free and yours and mine are most likely imprisoned by the average ideas born of medial experiences… unless we seek escape.
Your will is the extension of your intention, the budding spark of an idea that makes you your behavior. Intention is so important that it decides the difference between a slap on the wrist and a life sentence. And yet, we are taught the universe is benign and random. That it lacks ambition or will, driven only by chance and chaos. The average citizen believes this and reflects it by being average, affected by the flow and current of the mass’s ideas and constraints. How can humans have intention but the nature from which they came does not? Nature is not average, existence and life are proof of that, and your practice should seek to expand on those “impossible” odds.
Showing up to the mats is staring at a blank piece of paper. It has unlimited potential, dependent on individual creativity. The average piece of paper ends up in a trash bin, other documents alter all of mankind. If I don’t realize this, I will unconsciously scribble and copy what others are putting on their piece of paper and it will eventually be rubbish. Training is the practice of aligning my will with my ability. It provides real feedback as to how or why I cannot yet move forward. Most of the time we are stuck, and the opinion of others will tell us what the “technical” problem is, but the limitation is most often a lack of belief in our ability or the vision to see what is possible and beyond average.
Scissors
Style is greater than results. It cuts to the heart and the importance of being an individual. Style is one of those ambiguous virtues. It embodies a standard but is immeasurable. It is precise but unpredictable. It cannot be quantified or copied so it is often overlooked by the average or criticized by the uncreative.
Aiming for results is an act of trying to prove yourself worthy to an apathetic god. It is an appeal to the powerful to let you in, but begging for power negates it.
Style is the convergence of your will and your action; the expression of love and practice. Done intentionally, it can allow you to win. This does not mean your hand gets raised at the end, but instead, that you have created something worth experiencing, an articulation of your practice that allows you to see the potential in continuing. My learning curve changed exponentially when I understood that I could “win” every match as long as I defined a win as something that expressed my style. My style is to learn. So long as I can find a takeaway from the experience, I can rectify my game, I can imagine the potential and work towards it.
The promise of improvement keeps you sharp. So much of jiu-jitsu makes you want to quit because so many are taught that winning will prove that they are “good.” When losing happens far more frequently — as it does for the first 6 years — it disincentives the very thing that will allow you to win later: practice. You are “good” because you continue to practice.
Developing style is an anecdote. If I can make a higher-level player just a bit frustrated, or enter a sequence he didn’t want to deal with, I win. If I can make someone change their plan or surprise them with mine, I win. If I can smile under the crushing pressure of the eventual victor, I also win because even if I lose a match, I have a positive experience. It means I will be intrinsically motivated to come back for more. I will get better because my will is to do so. And this is the only real answer for how you get good at anything: you learn how to enjoy every part of it. Style is your conditioned response to good or bad situations. Any measurement of victory is worthless unless you can continue the practice.
Because, if you quit you lose.
