The Art Of Resilience

Black Belt Randori

Let me be honest with you right up front; I was not a very confident kid growing up.  That’s because I avoided challenge and discomfort.  I did attempt wrestling in my freshman year of high school, but I sucked at it, mainly because the desire to push myself simply wasn’t there.  Though I hate to admit it, the coach was right at the end of the season; I was only there for the picture.  It’s not great picture, by the way.  A tubby kid in a maroon, polyester wrestling singlet.  Anyway, that same lack of drive and motivation kept me from realizing my potential.  That’s one of the best things the military did for me; forced motivation.

This is the case with a lot of people.  They go through life with few expectations, or just enough to get by.  But they are never presented with opportunities to fail, so they never have the opportunity to feel accomplishment.  They may end up living what society says is a productive life; job, home, car, vacations…marriage.  What’s missing is a sense of pride and self-worth that only comes from personal hardship and determination.  And there are always plenty of reasons to give up or not try at all.  It is a cycle that plagues them for a lifetime.

I was fortunate that because of my lackluster performance in high school, I had few options.  I didn’t believe I was smart enough for college and most trades involved math, so I stayed clear of anything that required more than simple arithmetic.  I was blessed to have a father who demanded that I figure it out, because I would not have been aloud to live at home indefinitely while I worked a minimum wage job.  So, like a lot of other kids in the 80s, I joined the military to figure it out.  Best and scariest thing I’ve ever done.  And my life changed the moment I got off the bus at Lackland AFB and stepped onto that “yellow line.”

Basic training was the path to understanding my potential.  It opened doors for me that would have otherwise remained closed.  That’s not to say that I didn’t want to quit initially.  A couple of guys did; all you had to do was admit you smoked weed prior to basic training.  Yeah, different time, right?  But I had to make this work for lots of different reasons and because I was finally committed to something and didn’t give up or give in to fear, I enjoyed my first taste of actual accomplishment.  And when that happens, you want more of that feeling.

So, now I’m an older guy and I talk about society the way that a lot of older guys do.  I am very afraid for any type of conflict our military faces when we now have “time outs” and other avenues for young men and women to avoid challenge.  And many of the standards of conduct, bearing, and physicality have been lowered so that “everybody” get’s a chance to win.  You know what?  Everybody is not supposed to win.  Winners push themselves past the fear of pain, injury and failure.  Winners are winners because they have experienced loss.  Champions understand victory because they understand failure and what it takes to get up and try again.

When I opened this dojo, I promised myself that I would not lower our standards.  I didn’t want the Planet Fitness of martial arts schools.  You see, Planet Fitness has a superb business model; create an atmosphere for average people who, on the whole, are not interested in getting into real shape.  It’s the “no judgement zone,” an ingenious way to entice people who don’t want to feel intimidated by others.  That’s why there is a “lunk alarm”; an alarm that goes off if somebody drops a weight, not that there are free weights anyway.  What do you expect from a place that often has candy on the counter and Friday night pizza?  No joke, the one near us offered these things up at one time.

Don’t get me wrong, I am glad that there places like this that get people off the couch.  And I think it’s a great starting point for some; I just hope they get bored with the colorful machines and lack of challenge or accountability.  Real challenge, the kind that scares you in a good way, does not happen at places like Planet Average.  Nor is it going to happen at a martial arts school that has no recognizable standards other than having students regurgitate technique for the sake of the style or lineage.  Those standards should be flexible based on individual, physical strengths and weaknesses.  For example, there are some things that I simply cannot do anymore because of my long list of chronic injuries.  However, I will continue to train through “doable” pain and discomfort and I will push my body as far as it goes in its present state.  That’s all I expect from others.  You may not be able to do all the push-ups, the sit-ups, etc.  You may not have the stamina (yet) to complete an entire advanced class.  But for goodness sake…for your sake, damn it, at least try.

There are few places left in our society where we can be challenged.  A dojo should be one of those places.  Every time you step on the mat, there should be a little trepidation; butterflies in the stomach because you don’t know what’s going to happen.  There should be an atmosphere of caution and seriousness due to potential injury and yes, failure.  Fear that you cannot do something and look foolish.  And those who have been here the longest notice when you try and fail; they also notice when you don’t try.  One is expected and respected; one is questionable.  Without challenge, what is there, really?

You can only find worth in other people when you find worth in yourself.  Self-worth only comes from self-discipline.  Self-discipline is the outcome of personal challenge and accountability.  It is the outcome of failure…and getting back up.

Dave Magliano

Tatsu Dojo

Jissenkan Budo

Dojo Cho