If you aren’t having fun you’re doing it wrong

If you aren’t having fun, you’re doing it wrong. From self defense to sport, there are many different reasons to practice jiu-jitsu. Training can and should be very serious at times.

Violence and power are serious subjects after all, and the martial arts are, at the end of the day, the study of violence and power. But it’s not all serious.

Through the practice, we develop a camaraderie and light-heartedness in spite of all of the pain, suffering, and difficulty we put ourselves through in the pursuit of whatever intangible goal we may have.

Through the losses, the frustration, and the injuries, we make friends we otherwise would not have made. With these friends, we joke, we laugh, and we find reprieve from the outside world, even if only for an hour or so a day.

Most of us are not practicing jiu-jitsu for life and death, after all. We practice because we enjoy it.

We practice because it makes our lives better. We practice because it’s fun.

I might have never started jiu-jitsu

I might have never started jiu-jitsu if it weren’t for my little brother. In fact, I had never even heard of Brazilian jiu-jitsu until he told me that he was doing it and asked if I wanted to go to a tournament he was competing at.

In spite of having practiced traditional Korean hapkido for many years, it was the first tournament of any kind I had ever been to. It made an impression on me, not all good, but not all bad either. I loved watching Matt compete and I loved being there to cheer him on (I was the idiot yelling “Hold on!” to something that probably should have been let go of), but the idea of competition was so far outside of my comfort zone that I didn’t quite know what to make of it.

Fast forward a couple of years and I earned my black belt in hapkido while Matt was in Korea. He and I would email back and forth and, somewhere along the way, I decided I wanted to learn how to grapple, mainly to get out of my comfort zone and primarily for the sparring. I asked him if he could recommend any BJJ academies near me. He pointed me to a Pedro Sauer affiliate near my house and, after much procrastination, I went to a class.

It was so foreign, so difficult, and so humbling that I went back again, and again, and again, determined to master this thing. After my hapkido teacher passed away, I made the difficult decision to resign from hapkido and to focus on jiu-jitsu and my other holistic practices.

It’s often easiest to forget those closest to us, especially when you are as self-centered as me, but, whether he knows it or not, I owe a lot of where I am right now to my brother because, if he never invited me to watch him compete, I might have never started jiu-jitsu.

Working two jobs for a field day

I worked two jobs for over six years so that I could attend my daughter’s third grade field day. Well, that wasn’t the intended purpose of working two jobs, but it made it possible, now that I work for myself, for me to attend my daughter’s third grade field day. 

I was initially nervous when I signed up to be a volunteer. I was nervous because I knew it would mean a lot to her and because I knew there were easily half a dozen ways I could screw it up. What if the background check doesn’t come back in time? What if something comes up and I have to back out? What if I chicken out and have to back out? What if I am too socially awkward and the teachers, other parents, or kids don’t like me? But I knew how important it was for my daughter to see me at her school, so I was determined to show up in spite of my fears. 

I was one of four people in charge of the tic-tac-toe relay race station. There were about twenty stations in total. It was a hot day in June and the field was filled with some kind of flying insect that seemed to be attracted to the sunscreen on my arms and legs. 

After manning my station for about an hour and seeing a different group of kids every ten to fifteen minutes or so, my daughter’s group finally made its way over. When my daughter saw me, her face lit up. She yelled, “Daddy!” and ran over to give me a hug. I think I got about five more hugs from her before field day was over. 

A few days later, my daughter brought home some school work. In the pile was a paper about the school’s field day. As I looked through her work, I read the words, “My favorite part of field day was: ‘Seeing my daddy.'” My heart melted and I began to tear up a bit. 

I knew that having me at her field day was important to my daughter. What I wasn’t prepared for was how important it was for me. In her early years, I wasn’t around for her or her mom nearly as much as I would have liked to have been. I worked a lot at my day job and I was running my own business in the evenings and on weekends. 

When she was little, I did the best I could, but I was also selfish and preoccupied with my ambitions. Last year, however, after missing several really important moments in my daughter’s life because of work, I made the difficult decision to quit my day job and to focus on my business and my family. 

Some days, I wonder if I made the right decision, but then, when I read a note that says that my daughter’s favorite part of field day was my presence there, I know I did the right thing. My life isn’t necessarily easier because of this decision, but it certainly is a lot more fulfilling and these moments are priceless. 

I reserve the right to give myself a break

I reserve the right to give myself a break.

For years, decades if I’m being honest, I never gave myself a break. I took days off and I took vacations, but I never really rested. I just pushed and pushed and pushed until one day it broke me.

I broke from doing too much, from never slowing down, and most importantly, from not knowing how to say “No.” One day, my whole world came to a screeching halt and my body and mind shut down.

I began to have anxiety attacks. I was forced to take a break. I was forced to rest. I was forced to reevaluate my life and my priorities.

A lot of healing has happened since then, but I still have the capacity to overcommit, to overwork, and to put too much unnecessary pressure on myself. But now, when I feel that happening, I reserve the right to slow down, to unburden myself, and to take a break as needed.

My mental, emotional, and spiritual health require that I rest, but it took me pushing myself to the breaking point to realize that.

Excitement frightens me

Excitement frightens me. It makes me nervous. It’s like I’m afraid of anticipating good things happening to or for me.

I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. It’s as if I can’t believe things could possibly go well for me without a catch. I alway talk myself down from being too excited about anything.

I can’t even accept a compliment without brushing it off, explaining it away, or making it awkward. When someone tells me I’ve done something well, I find a way to downplay it or to look for where I could have done better. I can’t even celebrate my wins because something inside me simply won’t let me.

Maybe I’ve been let down too many times. Maybe I’ve been tricked, deceived, or disappointed too many times. Maybe I just don’t believe I’m worthy of good things without some kind of price being attached to them.

Whatever the reason or reasons, this is no way to live. I need to allow myself to be excited, to accept a compliment, and to celebrate my wins. I don’t know how, but I need to give myself a break.

I would have sold myself short

I often think about how much I would have missed out on if I’d gotten what I thought I wanted when I was younger. My life would be so small and I would be so lonely if I’d have had my way.

In my youth, when I first got clean and sober, in my depression and my pain, I had given up on hope and on happiness. I hated people and I wanted to hide. I did hide.

I hid in my anger, my pride, and my self-centered fear. I did my best to push everyone away and I longed for the day when I could be alone and independent enough to stay that way. I wanted my life to match how I felt inside.

But over time, as I did the spiritual work necessary to get and stay clean and sober, my life started to change. As I healed and began healing my past to the best of my ability, my heart started to open up, and my world started to open up.

Now, many years later, I look at my life in disbelief. It hasn’t been all great. There have been some really difficult times over the years. I’ve experienced pain, loss, and even moments of spiritual and emotional desperation.

Through everything though, I can honestly look at the life I have now with a sense of amazement and gratitude. It is so much different than I hoped or imagined. I am so much different than I hoped or imagined. At times it’s more complicated and more difficult than I would prefer, but it is also more full and rewarding than it would be if I’d gotten what I thought I wanted.

Left to my own devices, I would have sold myself short. God knows I tried to.

Dating the muse

Imagine someone asks you out on a date and you agree to go. So they make a reservation at a nice restaurant and you both make plans to meet there. 

As the day approaches, you get offered a ticket to go see your favorite sports team in the championship game, but it’s on the same night as your date. Conflicted, but not wanting to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity, you call up your date and ask to reschedule, explaining the situation. They understand and change the reservations to another day that works for both of you. 

You have every intention of going on the date, but again, something comes up. This time, an emergency comes up at your job. You are needed there. Once again, you call up your date and explain the situation. They are a little less understanding this time, but agree to give you another chance and so they once again change the reservation to another day that works for both of you. 

Again, you have every intention of going on the date. But something else comes up.

How many times do you think this can happen before the other person stops taking you seriously? How many times can you not show up before they stop wanting to be with you? How many times can you stand someone up before it is obvious that they are not a priority and they move on? 

Now imagine the person asking you out on a date is your creative inspiration, the muse if you will. You say you want to be creative. You say you want to make art. You claim to want to be taken seriously and to be able to make a living with your creative work. But your actions say otherwise. 

How many times can you ignore inspiration before it starts ignoring you? How many times can you choose something else over your creative work before your creative work has had enough of you? How many times can you stand up the muse before it goes elsewhere and leaves you to that which you consistently choose over your art? 

Set aside time to make do you creative work. Choose a time and a place and show up. Show up consistently. Take your art as seriously as you want it to take you. You are not promised inspiration. The muse owes you nothing. Form a relationship with your creative work. Be attentive to it, nurture it, and care for it. 

Treat your art like you would treat a loved one. Better yet, treat your art like you would like to be treated by a loved one. If you take it seriously, if you show up for it and care for it, your art will always be there for you, but don’t take it for granted. Don’t make it wait. The muse is a jealous lover. 

Your art is not just for you

When I read, it inspires me to write. When I listen to music, it inspires me to play. When I look at a painting, it inspires me to paint. That is why, if you are an artist, it is so important that you create and share your work. 

Your art is not just for you. It is also for those who may be inspired by it and, through that inspiration, create and share art of their own. You are perpetuating the creative cycle. 

This is why creating and sharing your art is a generous act. You are giving others not only the joy of experiencing what you have created, but also the permission to create and to share their own art. 

Courage is contagious. Through your art, others are encouraged to make art. In this way, your art changes the world. 

Art won’t make itself

The thing about art is that you have to do it. The painting won’t paint itself. The song won’t play itself. The book won’t write itself. The dessert won’t cook itself. You have to do it. 

And it’s not easy. It’s not easy to do well. It’s not easy to make good art. It’s even more difficult to make good art and to find an audience for that art. 

But if you don’t make it and you don’t share it, no one will ever see, hear, taste, or feel what you have to offer. It will just stay in your head and that is where it will die.

So do something. Make something. Make something terrible. Make lots of terrible things. Keep doing it until you get better. 

When you feel like your art is halfway decent, like it even somewhat resembles that which you were aiming for, share it. Don’t wait to share your art until it is perfect. It will never be perfect. Share it when it is shareable. 

Then, make more art. The more art you make and the more art you share, the better your art will become. There are no shortcuts. Your art isn’t going to make itself. 

Durian and Dr. Seuss

The first time I ate durian, I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to like it. In fact, I had never even heard of durian before. I was simply offered some, I tried it, and I thought it was delicious. I didn’t even notice the smell or at least it didn’t bother me.

I have since come to learn that durian has a bad reputation for its strong odor and unique taste. Having eaten and smelled a lot of it since that first time, I now understand. As much as I enjoy eating this strange fruit from Southeast Asia, I wouldn’t want my house or vehicle to smell like it for any extended period of time.

I think knowing nothing about durian actually helped me get past its less desirable attributes. The first time I tried it, I was at my favorite Thai restaurant at the time. I had just finished my lunch and I ordered mango sticky rice for dessert.

The waitress, who knew me as a regular customer, asked me if I would be interested in trying something new. Not a shy eater, I asked her what it was. She told me it was durian sticky rice and that I might not like it. It wasn’t on the menu and I think it was just something the staff ate amongst themselves.

I told her I would like to try it. She asked if I was sure and I told her I was. At this point, I was starting to get a little nervous. She seemed hesitant and I couldn’t help but to wonder why.

She brought out the dish, set it on the table, and took a step back, waiting for me to try it. I took a bite and she stared at me expectantly. It was good, very different from mango, but I liked it. I told her as much and she seemed shocked. I think she was ready to take it away and replace it with mango sticky rice if I hated it, but I reassured her that it was fine and I continued eating it.

Relieved and surprised, waitress then went back into the kitchen. When she came back, she had the owner with her. In a state of disbelief, the owner asked me if I liked the durian. I told her it was good. She was equally as surprised and delighted as the waitress. Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to like durian, but I didn’t know it.

I’m sure there is a lesson in all of this. Perhaps it is not to let other people’s prejudices or preferences dissuade you from trying something new. Maybe it’s simply that different people like different things. I’m not sure, but I’m reminded of the first book I ever read as a child, Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Seuss. I’m sure Dr. Seuss knows what the lesson is.