community

The jiu-jitsu mats are the third place between work and home

In jiu-jitsu class this evening, like most evenings, there were practitioners from varied backgrounds. The class consisted of men and women, people in their twenties all the way into their fifties, students and professionals, law enforcement officers, restaurant workers, caregivers, veterans, active service members, computer programmers, and more. Jiu-jitsu attracts people of all ages, as well as folks from different economic, ethnic, political, and religious backgrounds, and they all seem to get along. 

It’s almost as if, in spite of what social media and the media would like us to believe, our differences are less important and less pronounced than the things we have in common. On the mats, there are rarely ever any political debates, arguments are all but nonexistent, and, even though we are learning how to most effectively pin, strangle, and break each other, everyone tends to get along. 

Jiu-jitsu truly brings people together who normally would not mix. Where else can a person train with a veterinary technician one minute and a Secret Service Counter Assault Team member the next? On the mats, the only thing that matters is skill, demeanor, what you know, and what you can execute against a live resisting partner or pass on to your students. 

People don’t just practice jiu-jitsu to learn how to fight, lose weight, or defend themselves. The reasons for practicing jiu-jitsu are as varied as the practitioners themselves. But mainly people practice jiu-jitsu because it makes them feel better. It challenges them, forces them to problem solve, gives them a sense of purpose, accomplishment, and community, and offers a “third place” between work and home for people to get away form worries and responsibilities. 

Tonight, for example, I overheard two different people say they came to class to get their minds off of a loss in their lives. One person had to put his dog down after over fifteen years together. It had gotten old and was suffering badly from some health conditions that made it more humane to put it to sleep than to allow it to suffer. Another person lost her brother suddenly to a mystery illness. Both of them were devastated by these losses and came to jiu-jitsu as a way to take their minds off their grief and sorrow. 

Upon hearing this, I was humbled, but also extremely grateful. What an amazing thing to be able to provide an environment that feels safe, healthy, and welcoming enough that people want to be there during difficult times of loss because it makes them feel better. Knowing this fact makes me feel better also. 

We all need something like jiu-jitsu in our lives. We need a practice and a community that brings out the best in us while also challenging us to be better than we were yesterday. We need a healthy, safe environment for self improvement, connection, and sometimes even distraction. We need somewhere we belong, where they miss us when we are gone, and where they are happy to see us when we return. 

For many years, the mats have been this place for me. I’m fortunate to have a loving family as well as other communities outside of martial arts that I’m involved with, but martial arts have been a constant for me for over twenty years now. When I’m feeling good, when I’m feeling down, or when I’m feeling confused and out of place, I go to jiu-jitsu and I leave feeling better. 

Over the years, I have heard many people say that they never leave jiu-jitsu feeling worse. Even when they didn’t feel like showing up, they were glad that they did. Injuries notwithstanding, I can honestly say that I feel the same way and I’m thrilled to be able to provide an environment for others to get away for a bit, forget about their problems, and challenge themselves and grow in the process. It truly is an amazing life. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox

Spiritual discernment through prayer and community

When we are attempting to discern God’s will in our lives, he sometimes reveals himself to us clearly, in undeniable ways. He shows us in prayer, in a dream, or through community who he would have us be. Our path is well lit before us if only we are willing, and we are left simply to do the work of submitting to his will and following through on our decision. 

Other times, we are left to walk through darkness with only the flickering light of faith to light our way. We feel our way around, bump into unseen walls, and fumble our way forward. Even in these times of darkness, however, God gives us clues along the way, if only we have the eyes to see and ears to hear. Through these divine breadcrumbs, he reminds us that we are not alone on this journey and that he has always been there to guide us since before we were even paying attention. 

It can often be difficult to discern between divine inspiration and self-delusion. This is why prayer and spiritual community are so important. Through prayer, especially extended periods of silent prayer coupled with the reading of scripture and other spiritual literature, we place ourselves in a posture from which we can listen for God’s quiet voice. Spiritual community, such as a pastor, spiritual director, or a trusted friend who knows us and the journey we are on, then helps us in discernment by helping us to test and sift through what we receive in prayer. 

Without prayer, we are left trying to do God’s will with only self and the world to guide us. Without spiritual community, we are the sole interpreters of God’s voice in our lives and, while no one else can truly know what he is speaking to us in our hearts, God also speaks through the people he has placed in our lives. God did not make us to be alone. 

I have recently been trying to discern God’s will for me in my career and education. While God has not appeared to me in a burning bush, atop a mountain, or through an angel descending from the heavens, he has been there. Through a long, challenging process of deep prayer, many conversations with my spiritual community, and following the breadcrumbs placed before me, I believe that I know what he would have me do next in my life, at least for now (I’ll write about it in a different post). As my wife says to our daughter, “Subject to change.” 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Community sandals

There are many aspects of Cambodian culture that took me a while to get accustomed to. In fact, there are many aspects of Cambodian culture that I’m still not used to, even after being with my Cambodian-American wife for nearly seventeen years. For example, the idea of community sandals still baffles and sometimes irks me.

It is customary in Cambodian culture, as in many Asian cultures, to leave your shoes at the door prior to entering a home. Because of this, outside of any Cambodian home, you will typically find a pile of shoes that will include everything from dress shoes to sneakers, sandals, and flip flops, lots and lots of sandals and flip flops.

Being born and raised in an American where a person’s shoes are only that person’s shoes, my assumption has always been that a person wears only the shoes that belong to him or her. If I wear a pair of shoes to someone’s home and I take them off at their door, I expect that I will find them where I left them when it is time for me to put them back on. However, in my experience, this is not always true with Cambodians, especially when it comes to sandals or flip flops.

I have been at many Cambodian cookouts where I have left my flip flops outside, gone in the house to get something, to use the bathroom, or simply to get out of the heat, only to find that my flip flops were missing when I got back. At first, this thoroughly confused me. I had no idea where they went and I thought I had misplaced them, or that I was losing my mind.

The first time this happened, as I walked around looking for my missing footwear, I saw an older Cambodian woman walking around with giant black flip flops that looked like mine on her tiny Asian feet. I asked my then girlfriend, now wife, if the woman was wearing my flip flops. Confused by my question, she looked at the woman’s feet, then looked at me, and said, “Yeah?”

“They are my flip flops,” I replied, “Doesn’t she have her own shoes?”

“Probably,” she said, “Just grab another pair,” and then she walked away.

My black-and-white mind could not understand what was going on. It did not compute. These were my flip flops. That woman had her own shoes. Why was she wearing mine? Furthermore, why would I want to wear someone else’s shoes? Why would she want to wear my shoes, for that matter?

As I settled down a bit, I began looking for another pair of flip flops that I could wear. This created another problem. I have size thirteen feet and absolutely none of the people at this cookout, especially not the Cambodians, had feet, or shoes, that big. I grabbed the biggest pair of tiny flip flops I could find, squeezed my giant Dutch-American feet into them and shuffled around looking as weird as I felt. Eventually, I got my flip flops back and, the next time I took them off, I was sure to leave them out of the path of any Cambodians who might innocently slip their feet into the most conveniently located pair of shoes.

Over the years, I have come to understand that, while everyone comes to and leaves a Cambodian home with their own shoes, as long as those shoes are not currently being worn, they are community shoes. That is, if a member or guest of that household needs a pair of shoes to complete some task, they are going to grab whichever shoes are most convenient on their way out the door. When they are done, the shoes will be returned, maybe not to the same spot, but they will be returned. There is nothing malicious or inconsiderate about this custom. I suppose many Cambodians just see shoes as a tool, not an extension of personal identity or even property.