I wasn’t feeling strong yesterday. Something insane inside me told me to do the most physically and mentally demanding thing currently in my regimen to say, “No,” to those thoughts.
I signed up for a Brazillian jiu-jitsu (BJJ) class. In the last four days I’ve had two soccer matches, pilates and yoga, another BJJ class, and I’ve got more soccer tonight. I knew this would challenge my mind and body to a new place of strength.
I was the only white belt in the small class, I grappled with black, brown, blue, and purple belts. As I started my second match with the brown belt, I thought about how improbable this all was. Everything I’ve heard about BJJ is terrifying. I don’t think I would ever walk into a gym and ask for this punishment. I’ve never wrestled, lifted, or even watched ultimate fighting. My physical identity was as a relatively small soccer player.
(By the way, do not think about this kind of crap while you’re trying to pass guard on someone who’s been training for 15 years. That’s all I have for BJJ advice.)
My connection was my sons’ participation in the art. They won lessons almost six years ago in a raffle drawing I didn’t remember entering. My older, Westen, has been training for half his life. Stephen and Reneé Plyler of Elevated Studios have been the most consistently supportive adults in my boys’ lives aside from me.
Under Stephen’s guidance, Westen has become the tiniest powerhouse and mentor you could imagine. I’ve seen him grow into a guide for new students and a glutton for larger opponents in training and competition. I’ve never seen him shy away from a challenge on the mat.
It’s not just Stephen, but the community he has built. Adult practitioners have regularly worked with Westen and volunteered to coach him in competition. Elevated held a fundraiser for us when we lost Mary. The turnout was humbling. I knew then that BJJ was a blessing bestowed on us by God.
I still didn’t expect to practice myself.
Parenting takes bravery. Duh, we knew that, it’s a prerequisite. When you choose to homeschool, unschool, free-range, or just plain trust your children with their own fate, you are choosing to test the limits of that bravery.
You will watch them do dangerous things on scooters and skateboards, climb higher than you can stomach, and take risks on stage. Westen once volunteered to read Shakespeare on stage when he knew that he couldn’t read. My heart sank at what a failure that moment could be, how devastating the looks of the audience could become. But he was away, hand raised, charging toward David Stradley of Delaware Shakespeare. There was my fearful investment in that moment. My ego as a homeschooling dad was in danger of my perceived failure to teach my son how to read. I learned a lot in that moment as Westen asked for the lines to be read in his ear. His fearlessness is inspirational. He made me a better dad and human with his courage.
Years later I would feel failure again as I entered him in the wrong division in a BJJ tournament. My miscalculation of his weight and a combining of higher divisions put him well out of his class. I still feel the pain of that mistake, but Westen was undaunted. He fought hard in match after match with experienced competitors who had a seemingly insurmountable advantage of weight. He fought like he could win every time. He cried only after the competiton was done and he hadn’t had one victory. I figured I had ruined BJJ for him. Once he got changed and we were walking to the car, he asked, “When’s the next one, Dad?”
That kind of strength and bravery is unstoppable. He never says no to training, competition, performance, or any new challenge.
God has granted me the privilege of this compassionate warrior in my temporary care. He’s a coach, fellow student, and inspiration to me every day.
I survived a night of arm bars and chokes and I’m feeling strong again. A funny feeling after all the tears this post inspired. It’s all process and I’m grateful for this forum to work out my thoughts in difficult moments.
And I’m grateful for you reading this, God bless,
Jason
