Thursday, December 17, 2009

On the Process of "Getting Good"

Recently, I was honored by Sifu Marc and presented with my 4th degree black belt at NSA. While I certainly was not expecting it, I do take it as an important milestone in my martial arts career. At these times, I've been told it is important to take a look back and think about the lessons that have been learned along the way.

The interesting thing that has come to mind lately is that, while I have been promoted to a higher level of black belt, I'm more reminded of the number of times I've been a "white belt" in various martial arts or other areas of learning. If being a black belt gives you anything, I think it gives you perspective on the journey of training and improvement.

The first thing that I thought of when I received this honor is that it seems the more I learn, the more I realise how much I don't know. This brings to mind an interesting metaphor that I once heard regarding the process of moving from white belt to black belt and beyond. To paraphrase, the white belt represents innocence (or ignorance). A white belt is a "blank slate." Over time, and through repeated training, your white belt starts to get a little dirty. It starts to acquire some color, until eventually you make it to brown belt. Now you are a "seasoned" martial artist. You've put in a lot of training time, but by no means are you an expert. So you train even longer and harder, and the brown belt itself starts to get a little darker from the dirt, sweat, and occasional blood spent during hours of training, until eventually you make it to black belt. The belt, like you, is seemingly "saturated." You can't get any darker than black, after all. It seems you have been filled with all of the knowledge and skill you can contain. But then a very interesting thing happens. Over time, the black belt starts to shed. The edges fray and the black coating starts to come apart. Guess what color is underneath? White. And so the process in a sense begins again. You've gone from novice to veteran to expert, and now you begin again as a novice.

One thing I like about this story and how it pertains to my own martial art journey is that, after spending over half of my life training and achieving various ranks in various arts, I can tell you from personal experience that I LOVE BEING A WHITE BELT! Yes, you read that right.

For one, I find that the more you learn and the more ranks or black belts you achieve, the more you carry this persona or perception of an "expert." This can put a lot of pressure on you if you let it. Being able to start over and put on a white belt (literally and figuratively) takes that pressure away. I can say that this is one of the most enjoyable parts of starting over as a white belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. I get to make mistakes, tap out, learn, and just be that "blank slate" again. It rocks.


One other point that I think I have gained a great deal of perspective on is the process of learning and developing skill in a martial art. Ironically (given what I just talked about) I find that, particularly in sparring/performance based arts like Boxing, Crazy Monkey, Wrestling, or Jiu-Jitsu, it seems people are always looking for a shortcut to expertise. They want to know the "secret trick" to passing someone's guard, or escaping the mount or the arm bar. They want to know the best combination to throw, or the "trick" to hit without getting hit. I myself have fallen prey to this attitude MANY MANY MANY times! But lately, when I catch myself falling into this trap, I'm able to keep more perspective on the issue.

Ultimately, I think the issue is striking a balance between two ideas:

1. Putting in the Time
2. Finding the Secrets

I think of these ideas as being on separate ends of a seesaw or scale. If you tip too far in one direction, the balance is upset. Better yet, think of them as resting on the wings of a plane. Tilt too far in one direction and you won't fly straight.

Very often, people tend to tilt too far to the second point. They spend all their time analyzing, critiquing themselves, and dwelling on their mistakes. This often leads to frustration as the fun gets sucked out of the activity. Or it ends in paralysis by analysis, where you spend so much time thinking about the details or weighing different options that you actually don't get anywhere (such as on the mat, to train!). I also find that highly intellectual people are more likely to fall into this trap. Intellectuals are used to "figuring things out," and they think that all it takes is some problem solving and analysis to "figure out" why they aren't progressing. Sometimes there is nothing to be figured out, and often even if you do figure out the answer, it takes a long time to consistently implement the solution. For example, maybe you've figured out that you tend to drop your hands after you throw a punch, and that is why you continually get countered. Good for you. But understand that just because you "know" you're supposed to keep your hands up at all times, doesn't mean that you'll automatically do it from that day forward. Sometimes things just take more practice.

Anyone who's in this postion would be well served by realizing that training is a process, and you aren't going to "get good" overnight. Sometimes it's just a matter of putting in the time. You can have all the right ingredients to make a great cake, but at some point you just have to put it in the oven and wait if you want it to come out right.

But, it is possible to go too far in this direction as well. If all you do is mindlessly put in your time and never stop to analyze, it might take you far longer to correct your mistakes. Using the above example, if you never stop to analyze what you're doing, chances are you're just going to keep getting punched in the face (not good!). Which brings up another downfall of "just putting in the time." This attitude can often lead to injury and inadequate recovery, as people often overlook or ignore the aches and pains that might signal an injury. At that point, "putting in the time," seems more important than resting or recovering, when in actuality taking a day off might do you a lot better in the long term.

So in your own training, look at which of these traps you tend to fall into. Do you tend to overanalyze things to the point where you start to lose the enjoyment of training? Or do you just get out there and train without stopping to think about what you're trying to accomplish? If you tend to tilt the scale too far in one direction, think about what you can do to balance it out.