martial-arts

Jiu-jitsu seems to suit my obsessive yet fickle nature

For as long as I can remember, I have had wide varying and ever-changing tastes. While I really like, or even obsess over, consistency in certain things, in many aspects of my life my preferences are complex and fluid. Whether it’s music, food, hobbies, or careers, I have been all over the map in my forty some years of life. 

At times, this constant changing of tastes can be expensive, both financially and emotionally. I tend to get obsessed with whatever new thing I’m interested in, diving deep into every aspect of it, learning everything I can about it, and sharing what I find with others. Eventually, the day inevitably comes, however, when my interest wanes and I obsess over something new. 

Luckily, there are certain aspects of my life where this is not a problem for me. In my relationships, for example, I tend to be loyal and consistent, often to a fault. I find comfort in the stability of my relationships and, if I’m being honest, this tends to afford me the ability to be more whimsical in other areas of my life. 

My ever-changing tastes can cause problems, though. There is a cost to changing directions over and over again. I cannot tell you how many things I have collected and hoarded over the years just to end up giving them away, donating them, or throwing them away when I tire of them. Like I said, I feel fortunate that I don’t treat my relationships, especially my marriage, this way, although once someone hurts me enough and I get up the nerve to move on, I move on for good. 

With this on my mind, it occurred to me today that this eccentricity of mine is one of the reasons why jiu-jitsu has been such a rewarding practice for me. In jiu-jitsu, there is plenty to obsess over, but the art is so vast that there is always something new to give one’s attention to. In this way, it satisfies both my craving for depth and for breadth. 

When I want to dive deep into some aspect of the art, I can do that. I can stay focused on a particular technique, position, or principle for as long as I want or need to. And then, when I tire of that thing or grow comfortable enough with it that its novelty wears off, I can turn my attention and energy to something else. 

In addition to this, because jiu-jitsu is a dynamic sport practiced against a live-resisting partner, there are an infinite number of variables to face and deal with on any given day. The size, intensity, and skill level of training partners varies widely from class to class. Constraints set by the instructor such as the length of the sparring round, the starting position, or the goal of the sparring session also create new and interesting problems to solve. In short, jiu-jitsu is never boring and one is never done learning. 

This has been on my mind a lot lately because I have found myself in a position wherein I have too many irons in too many fires and it has spread me thin. Normally, jiu-jitsu is a constant in my life and something I can turn to so that I can take my mind off of the other things I have going on, but I’m presently rehabbing an old injury that has been nagging me for a while, so I have had a lot of time to think and to overcommit to other things. 

I thought I had been making a concerted effort to focus on the most important aspects of my life: God, family, and my career, which happens to be as a jiu-jitsu academy owner and instructor. But then I found myself being drawn in multiple other directions by new, shiny obsessions, and for once, it didn’t feel good. I used to thrive in this self-imposed chaos, but recently I have been craving a more focused, contemplative life and, as these things go, I have failed at achieving this on multiple levels. 

It’s all a lesson, though. This discomfort is my teacher. I can feel that I have left the ever elusive sweet-spot and I’m out on the deep waters trying to paddle my way back to safety. Regardless of how far I go in the wrong direction, however, I am certain of one consistent, never-changing fact, and that is that God will use this experience to draw me into a closer, more meaningful relationship with him if I am willing let it be so. 

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. 

There is no secret ingredient

There are no secret jiu-jitsu techniques. Well, maybe there are, but as soon as someone uses them against another person, they are no longer secret. They become part of the collective conscious of jiu-jitsu. There are, however, techniques you may have not yet encountered or details you have not yet been shown, but there really are no secrets. 

Once you have a solid foundation of fundamental principles and techniques, jiu-jitsu is mostly about strategy, execution, and timing. With rare exception, the best jiu-jitsu competitors are not doing anything different than day-to-day practitioners. They are just doing it with more experience, confidence, and refinement. 

This lesson came up recently at a jiu-jitsu tournament my daughter competed in. There were two other kids in her gi (the woven cloth uniform worn in jiu-jitsu, judo, etc.) division and she beat both of them, one by points and one by bow-and-arrow choke. These same two kids were in her nogi division, but there was also a third boy who was only there to compete without the gi. 

In her nogi matches against the kids she had defeated in the gi, she won in a similar fashion as earlier. She beat one by points and one by rear naked strangle. But the third child, the boy who was only there to compete in the nogi division, defeated her in under a minute with an armlock. In fact, he beat all three of the other kids in his division in under a minute. 

After her losing match against this boy, my daughter was upset. I tried to comfort her, explaining that there is no shame in losing to someone who is clearly better than you, which he was, as long as you try your best, which she did. Her other matches went very well and she showed more confidence and assertiveness than she ever has before. I was very proud of her. 

When the boy who defeated her was competing against the other kids in the bracket, I watched his matches and I made my daughter watch as well. It was important, I told her, to see how and why he was winning. It wasn’t just size, age, or athleticism, even though he seemed to have advantages in these areas as well. Something else was going on. 

As we watched, I pointed out to her that this boy was not doing anything special or unusual. He wasn’t using any secret techniques. In fact, he was using all of her favorite techniques, knee-cut passes, armbars, and triangle chokes, techniques she is quite familiar with. The difference, however, was that he was doing these techniques with more confidence, assertiveness, and refinement than her. I explained to her that he wasn’t better than everyone else in the division because of any special, unattainable trait or characteristic. Everything he did to win, I explained, was in her toolkit and within her reach. Like Po’s father says to Po in Kung Fu Panda, “The secret ingredient is… nothing. There is no secret ingredient.” This boy didn’t beat anyone with secret jiu-jitsu. He beat them with confidence in his plain old ordinary jiu-jitsu. 

I went on to explain to her that she has the skills and the power to win. She need only believe in herself, and train and compete like she can win. It’s not a matter of more tools, but of honing and sharpening the tools she already has, and then using those tools with confidence and assertiveness. Like Po said to Tai Lung, I told her, “There is no secret ingredient. It’s just you.” 

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.

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

Grappling with mental, emotional, and spiritual health issues

In Brazilian jiu-jitsu, a martial art most well known for specializing in ground grappling, the goal is to pin and control your opponent and then submit them with either a joint lock or a strangulation. John Danaher, who many consider the sport’s greatest coach, describes it as “The art of control that leads to submission.” Greg Souders, another prevalent voice in the sport, describes jiu-jitsu as “The game of immobilization as it leads to strangulation and breaking.” 

However one chooses to describe it, the general idea of jiu-jitsu is the same: take your opponent to the ground and, using superior angles, positioning, and leverage, make it difficult or impossible for them to escape. Then, isolate and attack their arm, leg, or neck, and apply sufficient force to either break said arm or leg or cut off the blood or oxygen supply through the neck until your opponent taps in submission. 

Of course, this is all easier said than done. Every advantage must be earned when dealing with a fully resisting opponent or training partner. The person you are trying to pin and submit is also trying to pin and submit you. It’s a constant struggle. It’s a battle of wills as much as it’s a battle of skill, pride, strategy, and athleticism. Everything in jiu-jitsu matters, and nothing in jiu-jitsu is easy. That’s one of the reasons it is such a rewarding practice to participate in. 

With this in mind, a shared joke in jiu-jitsu is to yell, “Just stand up!” When someone is pinned and struggling to escape, it’s simple advice but often quite difficult to act on, especially against a resisting opponent and the force of gravity working against you. For this reason, “Just stand up!” is often said with sarcasm and received with scorn or laughter, depending on the recipient’s mood. 

Much like “Just stand up!” in jiu-jitsu is absurd advice to give someone who is pinned under a resisting opponent, “Just get over it!” is ridiculous advice to give to a person suffering from grief, depression, anxiety, trauma, addiction, or some other psycho-emotional ailment. While it may seem like helpful advice from the onlooker’s perspective, it is often less than useless for the person struggling with whatever issues they are experiencing. These usually well-intentioned comments can even exacerbate the recipient’s mental, emotional, or spiritual health issues by diminishing their seriousness and making it seem as though it is merely a lack of effort that is preventing them from being overcome. 

Like jiu-jitsu, our mental, emotional, and spiritual health is complicated. Many forces are working against us as we try to persevere through this thing we call life. While those of us being pinned by another jiu-jitsu practitioner would love to “Just stand up!” and those of us grappling with mental, emotional, and spiritual health issues would love to “Just get over it!” there’s usually more to it than that. As hard as we are fighting, our opponent is also fighting back, and sometimes we are outmatched. 

Sometimes, our opponent is bigger, stronger, faster, or more skilled than us, and we cannot escape our difficulties alone. Sometimes, we need help. This is true in both jiu-jitsu and in life. No one ever became a jiu-jitsu world champion without a coach, or several coaches, and a variety of skilled training partners. If you are struggling with mental or emotional health issues, don’t assume you can do it alone, either. 

When I was at my absolute lowest in my addiction, I had to come to accept that I could not overcome my problem by myself. I needed help. My parents helped me get into rehab. The rehab facility helped me get into a halfway house. The halfway house helped get me in touch with people who could lead me out of addiction and into a spiritual experience that would solve my problem. It took the proverbial village to raise me from spiritual, emotional, and psychological death. 

Likewise, many years later, when I finally admitted that I was struggling with anxiety and depression, I didn’t simply “muscle my way out of it.” I couldn’t. I couldn’t “Just stand up!” and “Just get over it!” I couldn’t do it alone; once again, I needed help. I needed my wife’s support to work through my issues; I needed friends who had been through similar problems and who could recommend good therapists; I required the therapists themselves, and finally, but most importantly, I needed God to guide me through all of this as I found my way back to him. 

Whatever you are grappling with, whether it is another person or your demons, know that you are not the first to struggle with this issue; you won’t be the last person to do so, and you are not alone. Countless other people have had whatever problem you are having and are willing to help you. Don’t waste your time trying to “Just stand up!” or “Just get over it!” You can’t. I couldn’t. We can’t. 

We all need help, and we all need each other. I love you, and we love you. Please do not give up. You are truly not alone. 

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. 

Being a better training partner

This past weekend, I was helping with my daughter’s jiu-jitsu class and, when it was time to roll (sparring in jiu-jitsu), I picked out a couple of kids I wanted her to work with. These two girls in particular are both new, but have been pointed out as having a lot of grit and a lot of potential. I put them with my daughter because she has been training for a long time and has become skilled enough to handle tough kids her age, but she is also a thoughtful, helpful training partner. 

My expectation, which I mistakenly did not communicate to my daughter, was that she skillfully, but mercifully submit the other kids. I did not want her to do this for the sake of winning or exerting dominance, but as a way of showing them that jiu-jitsu works, that an otherwise sweet young girl can develop effective fighting skills, and that you don’t have to injure someone in order to control and defeat them. But that’s not what happened. Instead, she just laid there in her guard and let them work. 

This is not an uncommon thing in jiu-jitsu when people are working on static drills meant to develop new skills, but this is not how rolling is supposed to work. Rolling is supposed to be live practice against real resistance. Instead of being skilled, my daughter was being nice. It’s hard to fault her for it, but truth be told, no one involved got better at jiu-jitsu because of it. 

On the ride home after class, we had a long talk. I explained to her why I paired her up specifically with these two girls. I told her that I wanted them to experience good jiu-jitsu done with thoughtfulness and care because I know that she is capable of that. I also explained that, by not trying, she did these girls a great disservice. 

By her not trying, these girls weren’t challenged, and it’s our challenges that make us better, stronger, and more resilient. Whereas she thought that she was doing them a favor by letting them work, she had actually robbed them of the opportunity to experience jiu-jitsu as it can be. Instead of inspiring them, she gave them a false sense of confidence. 

I did my best to explain this from a place of compassion and understanding. I know that she is a kind, caring girl and doesn’t like to hurt anyone. She most likely thought she was being nice. The problem with this, however, is that it didn’t help anyone improve and, ultimately, we are in jiu-jitsu to help each other improve. 

Without good training partners who are both tough and trustworthy, jiu-jitsu is kind of an empty practice. It is our partners and the skillful resistance they give us that brings out our skills and pushes us to strive for improvement. Without the tension created by good training partners, we stagnate and training becomes pointless. 

It is her job as their senior, I explained, to push them her partners’ growth. It is the senior student’s role to give their juniors enough resistance that they have to get better, but not so much that they can’t. The goal isn’t simply to beat them and it is especially not to humiliate them. Rather, the goal is to show them what is possible and to lead them by example in that direction. 

As with most lessons I try to teach my daughter, however, she wasn’t the only one who needed to hear this. As the words came out of my mouth, all of the times I was a lazy, passive, and apathetic training partner flashed through my mind. I needed to hear all of this as much as I needed to say it to her. 

In fact, a couple of years ago, a friend of mine with whom I do jiu-jitsu said something quite similar to me as I was saying to my daughter. He approached me after practice one night and said, “There are people who train here who have never felt your real skills and your top pressure, and you are doing them a disservice.” Confused, I asked him what he meant. He replied, “It’s cool that you want to work on your weaknesses and I know you are trying to be nice, but you are giving these folks a false sense of confidence. You are allowing them to believe they are better than they are. They don’t know what it feels like when you roll with intention and really put it on them, and they should. They need to know. They need to know as a student what you are capable of, but they also need to know, through your example, what is possible.” 

Once again, fatherhood proved to be a reflection upon my life and my character. It is the mirror I was incapable of staring into until this little blessing of a child came along. Much like I wanted her to do with her training partners, she pushes me to be better. She forces me to look at my own deficiencies and makes me question what I thought I knew about myself and my place in this world, and her presence does this, not in a way that is humiliating or demoralizing, but that feels true and generous. 

We are not islands unto ourselves. We have to have other people in our lives who are going to push us to become our best selves, and we have to do the same for others. This is what community is for. We are not here to lie down and let others walk all over us. Nor are we here to trample and take advantage of the weak. We were put on this earth together so that we can lovingly and thoughtfully push each other to be better, and to help those who cannot help themselves. 

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. 

Jiu-jitsu and parenting

I have recently realized that one of the most important truths about parenting is that I don’t really know how to do it. Most of the time, I’m just making my best guess as to how to handle a given situation, waiting to see how my decisions play out, and then adjusting based on the results. In this way, I suppose parenting is a lot like jiu-jitsu. 

The thing about jiu-jitsu is that it’s not just about you and what you want. Your training partner always gets a say. You may think things are going to go a certain way, but your training partner has his or her own plans, strategies, and goals as well. Even if you have a specific outcome in mind, your training partner may block or counter your move, or even use your own move against you. 

In this way, Jiu-jitsu is much more of a conversation than it is a monologue. Very rarely can you simply impose your will on your partner without any resistance. Even when you can, it’s not really that satisfying or beneficial to either party. 

All of this also applies to parenting. I have certain goals and aspirations for my daughter, but she gets a say. And when I try to guide, lead, or correct her with a specific outcome in mind, it often does not go as planned. She has her own personality, emotions, ideas, and aspirations that all influence how our interactions go. I may start with a plan, but I am often forced to pivot because she didn’t react or respond the way I anticipated. 

This is not to say that I am powerless over her and that she always gets what she wants. That would be neither desirable nor beneficial for either of us. Rather, my best parenting takes into account her personality, desires, and responses. It’s a conversation not a monologue. 

Another similarity between jiu-jitsu and parenting is that, no matter how long I do either, I realize that there is way more to learn. Both jiu-jitsu and parenting keep me humble. As soon as I think I have it all figured out, I am quickly reminded that I don’t. I must remain a perpetual student. 

Both also require presence and intention. I have realized that I can neither be a good parent nor jiu-jitsu practitioner if I am not present, in the moment, and undistracted. My complete attention is required if I am going to be effective. I also cannot phone it in. If I want to be a good parent and a good training partner, I have to be intentional about it. Half measures get less than half results. They get me nowhere. 

Ironically perhaps, in spite of their similarities, I think parenting is way more difficult than jiu-jitsu. I’m way more scared of messing up my daughter with bad parenting than I am of messing up my training partner with bad jiu-jitsu. Actually, if I have bad jiu-jitsu, I’m the one who gets hurt. Whereas, if I parent poorly, my daughter has to live with the consequences. Raising another human being is lot of pressure. 

That said, I love my life. I love being a father, even on the bad days, and I love practicing and teaching jiu-jitsu, even on the bad days. I am also extremely fortunate that I sometimes get to do both at the same time. As painful and frustrating as it may be sometimes, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

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. 

Evolution of a blog pt. 1

Every day, for quite some time now, I have been writing and publishing a short blog post for my Meditations of a Gentle Warrior blog. I’ve been doing this for several years and, other than missing a day or two here and there, and a couple of longer periods where I thought I had quit altogether, I have been faithful to this practice. I honestly can’t even remember how or why I started, but I do know that I got the idea of posting daily from listing to an interview with Seth Godin who has been writing and publishing a daily blog post for well over a decade.

My blog didn’t start out as what it is now. In fact, if I remember correctly, I was posting on an entirely different site than the one I’ve been using for the last few years. The name has also changed over time. At first, I don’t think it had a name. Then, it became Holistic Budo. 

Sometime before my first martial art teacher, Joe Sheya, passed away, I had started doing a form of qigong, a mind-and-body movement practice for developing so-called internal strength, to supplement my hapkido and Brazilian jiu-jitsu practices. Upon hearing that I was studying qigong, Joe said to me, “That’s good, but don’t make the mistake I made by thinking your qigong practice is separate from your martial art practice. Find a way to integrate them.” 

The name Holistic Budo was meant to embody this idea of the integration of the holistic arts with the martial arts, with budo being the Japanese word for ‘martial arts.’ I thought that I would use my blog to document my journey through the arts, but art tends to have a mind of its own and the idea we start with is not always the art we end up with. In spite of my intentions, Holistic Budo evolved into my writing short philosophical posts wherein I shared experience, wisdom, or advice for living a better life. 

Sometimes I wrote about something I had experienced throughout the day. Sometimes I was writing to myself, basically giving myself advice for how I could have handled a situation or experience better. Other times, I imagined that I was leaving a trail of literary breadcrumbs for my daughter should she need it someday if I were no longer here to talk to. Eventually, wanting a name that better reflected what the blog had become, I changed the name to what it is now, Meditations of a Gentle Warrior. 

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. 

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.

Parallel parking and the Wai Kru Ram Muay

Through an unexpected turn of events, my daughter and I ended up at a Muay Thai Wai Kru seminar today. Muay Thai is a form of pugilistic fighting originating in Thailand wherein participants use punches, kicks, knees, elbows, and trips from the clinch position to defeat one another. Wai Kru, more officially Wai Kru Ram Muay or ‘war dance saluting the teacher,’ is a ritual performed by Muay Thai fighters before a fight. This ritual is a way for the fighter to pay respect to the art, their teacher, and their opponent, and is intended to prepare the fighter for the fight. 

My day started with me attending a jiu-jitsu class with my daughter who played with her cousins while I trained. After my class was over, we were supposed to go somewhere, but before we left, I found out that plans had changed and our presence was no longer required. My wife was sightseeing in Washington DC with her family who is visiting from Washington state, so my daughter and my schedule suddenly opened up. 

As we were leaving the academy, some Muay Thai folks came in and I remembered that there was a seminar today intended to raise money for the girl who was teaching it to fight overseas. My daughter’s cousins were all attending the seminar since they all do Muay Thai and my brother was hosting the event, so I asked my daugher if she wanted to participate also and she said yes. 

The seminar went well and the kids all learned how to do the Wai Kru. At the end, they asked for volunteers to demonstrate what they had all learned, which was a complex series of movements that takes several minutes to perform. My daughter immediately raised her hand. 

A space was made in the middle of the room and my daughter was called out. With a little bit of help, she demonstrated the Wai Kru as everyone watched. They gave her a round of applause and then every kid, one by one, demonstrated to the group what they had learned. After the seminar ended, everyone sparred for a while and then went to get ice cream. 

When we got home, my wife was excited to tell me how proud of herself she was for successfully parallel parking in DC and making it all the way to Eden Center, a giant Vietnamese shopping center in Northern Virginia, and back without getting lost. When my wife finished telling me about her day, my daughter said, “Mommy, I did something brave today too. When the coaches asked for volunteers to demonstrate the Wai Kru in front of the class, even though I was nervous, I raised my hand and I went first. When I was done, my cousin told me that I inspired her and that’s why she went second.” 

I simply smiled. It was a good day and a good reminder that courage manifests in many different forms. For one person, courage is parallel parking in the city or driving to a new place. For another person, courage is raising their hand and stepping up in front of a crowd. We are all scared of something. It is our ability to take action in spite of that fear that makes us brave. Also, bravery is contagious.