Knowing That I Know Not

 A funny, lucky thing has happened with my jiu jitsu, and I may be unlucky enough to never have it happen again in my jiu jitsu career, so I need to write about it.

Some background:

I am a slow jiu jitsu learner. Some people are fast, some people are average and some people are slow. I am on the slow end of the bell curve. I’m captivated by detail, I’m kinetically curious, and jiu jitsu classes are generally designed for the average learner and the athletic learner.

I’ve trained mostly in the gi. This means I am used to slower, grinding guard passes because of the friction and the grips. It means that I’m used to snagging collar chokes, and I’m used to having extra leverage on opponents because of the fabric.

The gym I trained at in Seattle was mostly oriented toward sport jiu jitsu. There is a point system for advancing position. There are restrictions on leg attacks. And the general stand up game is light, with most training rolls starting on the ground already. 

Additionally, there was a generally friendly attitude at the gym, most of the rolls were lighter, more flowy, except when a competition was close and we needed more intensity. The level of technique on guard passing and guard retention was superb.


Since I’ve moved to Jackson, I’ve been training in a much different environment.

The pace of the classes is fairly intense and rolls are aggressive. I’m primarily training no gi. I’m getting subbed multiple times in my rolls and my guard retention is poor compared to the speed and power of the passing. Most folks have decent wrestling takedowns. Leglocks are a given not a restriction. Position before submission is mostly ignored.

I’m being destroyed by people who have been training substantially less time than I have because I am not used to the pace, my gi skills don’t transfer well, and because I am regularly surprised by how aggressively they seek submissions.

This sounds bad, but it’s actually the best thing that could happen to me.

One of the greatest features of jiu jitsu is that it cannot lie. So many things in your life can lie to you and you can even lie to yourself. So much of the world lives in the subtlety of not knowing the truth of the matter. Did you fail to get a job because you weren’t qualified? Or was it because you answered a question weirdly? Or because you answered a question too well? You’ll never know and even if you got feedback, it could be false. Did you prepare your best for that test? Or did you prepare mostly your best? And what did you say to yourself about that prep?

Let me repeat again: Jiu jitsu cannot lie. The technique either works or it doesn’t. My guard prevents my opponent from passing or it doesn’t. I’m either competent or I am not. And right now, I am not competent.

This is a beautiful thing, a remarkable thing. Each time I get submitted by these Mississippi jiu jitsuka’s, I am told the truth. The truth is some part of my knowledge of jiu jitsu is incomplete and obviously so. 

Under normal circumstances, this happens less and less as you advance in rank. You start to win versus your training partners, and you stall out more. This isn’t what’s happening to me. Right now, I am in this sweet, sweet pocket where what I thought I knew, I didn’t and it has been made clear. My jiu jitsu performed under certain circumstances, and now, in new circumstances it doesn’t perform. Can I really say that it performed at all? 

I know this would be disheartening to others, that this way of looking at failure is alien. It’s one of the great beauties of the art, and despite the fact that I am “losing” far more than I feel I should, I count myself as lucky to be reexposed to the art. It’s not the same purity as being a white belt with no knowledge. It’s the beauty of knowing that I know not. What an amazing gift!