I’m in Boston, I think.
On 4.5 hours of sleep, I could be anywhere.
The traffic is other-worldly. It snarls the serpentine streets in one unending ribbon of gridlock. Professor David texts me: I’m running late. Be there in 15. I decide to wait, though I’m not sure what exactly I’m waiting for.
Some rounds with a black belt in a strange city, I guess, but after a day of intense physical and mental work, fighting more seems repugnant. But I made a commitment, so I decide to keep it.
I shuffle aimlessly around the old Aikido school, its white brick walls festooned with racks of wooden swords, medals, and trophies from battles long forgotten. How quickly salience fades, I think.
Professor arrives and he’s unnecessarily apologetic. He takes his time robing for battle, files his nails with a focused precision. He’s ready. OK, let’s play, he says.
There is no playing here. Not for me at least. His Jiu Jitsu is ironclad and classic, just like the very space his school inhabits. Every precious inch of space is taken away from me. I instantly regret no-brainer decisions, like taking mount, launching attacks from side control, even digging for double-unders in butterfly guard.
Most of the time, I’m fighting from disadvantageous positions. I don’t like it, but I’m relaxed. I’m too short on sleep to be anything but relaxed. I play languid, defensive Jiu Jitsu, waiting for an opening to exploit—an opening that never comes.
The session morphs into a private lesson that’s mostly psychological. It’s one I’m confident that I’ll look back on as a turning point in my grappling life.
You need to reset your Zen point, he says, demonstrating proper positioning during a side control and mount escape. He engages his core, braces, frames with the full strength of his body. His face is calm, relaxed, but his body radiates fuck-you energy—something my Jiu Jitsu, and maybe my life, are lacking.
Poise and relaxation are not mutually exclusive. It’s the firm grip on the wheel that doesn’t white-knuckle. It’s the balance between aggression and passivity. It’s the determination not to accept the inferior position, but the acknowledgment of things as they are.
Now, when I return to bad positions, I return to Boston.
Category: Outer Work
Tag: Training Well
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