Jiu Jitsu and Books

I’ve been going to my Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu classes regularly and more frequently since last February.

My game has noticeaby improved despite still struggling with the basics. I also noticed that some newer members of the gym are drawn to me. I feel closer to some of the more experienced people there.

One day one of the coaches for the Gi-class, coach O, gave a speech about the importance of culture and tradition after one of our classes. He said something along the lines of how everyone showing up to class is reflecting the gym’s culture whether they know it or not. That showing up late regularly will reflect something about the culture of the gym; that each and everyone of us, not just the coaches and the more experienced grapplers, have our parts to play in maintaining the culture of the gym. He said we feel the absence of the coach Ian, one of the co-founders of the gym and that he’s counting on everyone, even the blue belts, to step up and help the coaches in every class to the best of their ability. Then he pointed to me and said what he told me at the beginning of class when he noticed me trying to help another white belt how to tie his belt. He said it’s tradition. I taught him and now he taught someone else and then that person will pass it on to another. This is what it’s all about.

I felt genuinely touched by his speech. O isn’t the kind of person I would bump into or hang out with, especially outside of the gym, because we come from very different backgrounds. But I felt the depth and sincerity in his speech and I liked it when he kept repeating how much “[He] loves this shit” throughout his speech.

I went to Americana again the other day and walked into Barnes and Nobles. I stood by a pile of books and picked up a copy of Project Hail Mary. I didn’t even intend to buy that book. I had made up my mind to buy that copy of Experience by Martin Amis that I noticed the last time I was there. But a man told me the book I picked up was really good and after a brief back and forth I told him that I’d buy it. I ended up buying another book I originally did not intend to buy. Merlin Sheldrake’s Entangled Life.

I spent $64 on three books! I splashed some cash on myself and I can’t help but think that writing that previous post made me more aware about my tendency to deny myself simple pleasures. I’m often very generous when it comes to spending money with friends. But when it comes to myself, I’m often very frugal and stingy. If I’m going to live a more fuller life, one where I am going to be happier, healthier and more self-confident, then I’m going to need to be able to practice self-love and self-respect. I will on occasion find ways to treat myself like I would a good friend, even when I feel like I don’t deserve it or am particularly worried about my financial future.

I went to Manhattan Beach this morning before my brazilian jiu-jitsu class. I took a regular lap from the pier to the esplanade and back to my car. But before I went back home I went to the park that divides Valley Drive and North Ardmore Avenue. I sat down on a concrete bench and opened where I last left off. As I was reading I was transported to Van Veen’s world and his letters to Ada after Lucette’s suicide. I would occasionally look up from my book at the trees and feel a deep peace. It was something that I’ve experienced when I used to practice Zazen. But I knew it was fleeting and I did not even try to hold on to it.

I went back to my book until a line from one of Van’s letters to Ada drew my attention that I had to write it down:

“I cannot express, dear Van, how unhappy I am, the more so as we never learned in the arbors of Ardis that such unhappiness could exist.”

She didn’t know such unhappiness could exist in the arbors of Ardis. Do any of us, in the arbors of our own respective Ardis’s know what kind of pain and suffering awaits us in adulthood?