The Speech That I Didn't Get to Make
When I was visiting this school for the first time, it was a gross, wintry-mix kind of December like the one we had now. I was visiting the women’s class and when I got there, I was the only one besides the other purple belt instructor. Even though it was just the two of us, we worked on knee cut passing for the whole time, and then I stayed at open mat to train.
I remember feeling hopeful that I had found a new place to stay. This was jiu jitsu school #4, and as far as I was concerned, my last chance to find a place that I could train. I had to make this work, and I’m glad that I stuck around.
Since then, I’ve met a lot of friends and had a lot of experiences that I never thought I would have in training jiu jitsu. I picked up some responsibilities as well, one of which is helping teach the kid’s class on Wednesdays. If you haven’t taught kids, well, then you don’t know the feeling of going rapidly from thoughts like “oh my god you are gonna end up in the hospital” to “did they just figure out the overhead balloon sweep by themselves?”
As much as the kids class is stressful, I like it because it presents me with a challenge: how to get kids engaged, enjoying, and educated in jiu jitsu. It’s like a puzzle I get to solve, even if the pieces like to make farting sounds into their hands, complain about headaches, and flop around dangerously close to the end of the mat space. The same way goes for when I’m training in jiu jitsu too—I like the problem solving aspect of working through a complex set of issues. No matter how messy the problem, there is a certain type of elegant beauty that comes with being brave (and patient) enough to dig into the chaos.
Some of you didn’t get promoted this weekend, and I think you might have hoped to. I know that feeling because I’ve been there before. The disappointment is real. It hurts. And it’s okay to let it hurt.
But whenever I get that sick feeling and feel the unbearably hot emotions rising to the surface, I always try to ask myself one question:
Will there be jiu jitsu soon?
If the answer is yes, then despite everything going on, then despite the pain of disappointment, I feel a little better because I get to train, to be with my friends, to be a martial artist.
Will there be jiu jitsu soon?
If the answer is yes, then even when you’re sitting in the dark, you know you’ll be back on the mats before long—sweating, learning, laughing about the latest technique or meme you saw.
Will there be jiu jitsu soon?
If the answer is yes, then no amount of disappointment, setback, or uncertainty can stop you from walking through the door, getting on the mat, and doing the thing that you love.
Let me tell you about the kids class the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.
We had one kid show up with his dad, and it was clear that when the class time rolled around, no other kids were going to be there. He had been playing video games, and when he came downstairs, it was apparent that there were some big feelings being felt.
He didn’t even want to get on the mat, not even after his dad bribed him with a movie night.
And it was in that moment that I remembered my first time training at this school and how it could have easily been me who walked away from trying jiu jitsu again, if not for the person who had stayed to train with me. So I picked up some dodgeballs and invited him on the mats to at least toss them around the padded walls. I hoped that if he just got on the mat, he would be willing to train.
And then something beautiful happened…he changed his mind and decided that he would consider taking a private lesson for 15 minutes, and then he could leave And wouldn’t you know it, in the next 5 minutes, three other kids showed up to train. The first kid, who didn’t want to stay, ended up training the whole time.
I thought about that kid this weekend. About how showing up is sometimes the only thing we can do, and somehow it’s always enough. Because there was jiu jitsu yesterday. There is jiu jitsu today.
And there will always be jiu jitsu tomorrow—if we show up.