
Over the years in Aikido, Mizukami Sensei said when training technique for the incoming punch, “Wait it out. Take a glancing blow if you have to. Then move in and finish.”
I waited, moved into the attack, letting the punch just pass, taking a hit if I had to, then execute kotegaeshi (wrist lock) or iriminage (clothesline to the head). I practiced over, and over, and over, and over again. Just train.
In an Aikido Seminar, the French Aikido Sensei said, “Enter the attack and die with honor.” So, I enter the attack, enter into the danger. I could win or I could lose. That’s what’s so.
Bruce Lee said:
Like everyone else, you want to learn the way to win, but never to accept the way to lose, to accept defeat, to learn to die is to be liberated from it. So when tomorrow comes, you must free your ambitious mind, and learn the art of dying.
Given all my training, putting in the work, being present, executing technique the best that I can, I could lose. That’s the Way. I train to give myself the greater chance. Still, there are no guarantees, much like life.
In the bigger picture, Aikido founder O-Sensei said, “True victory is victory over oneself.”
I don’t train just to win. I just train. Period. I create Aikido from mushin (empty mind). I match up with the attack, awase. What happens, happens. Do you do only because you can win? Just asking.
When I tested for Nidan (2nd-degree black belt), Sensei had 5 bigger, stronger black belts attack me in randori, the final phase of my test. I had already endured over an hour of throwing bigger, stronger black belts in one-on-one techniques.
I was fucking tired. I had expected, rather hoped, that 4 black belts would attack in randori. In randori, multiple black belts attack by grabbing any part of my gi, Aikido uniform, that they can hold on to. I had to throw, evade, and run away for about 3 minutes until Sensei clapped his hands.
In randori, I would inevitably get caught. I would lose by design. Both Sensei and I knew that. Sensei wanted to see how long I could keep throwing and moving when I was far beyond spent. This was about character, not technique. The bigger picture.
So, I did my best, knowing that I would lose. Learning to lose is about character and humility. That was Sensei’s profound lesson. Yes, I got caught. Yes, I passed my test. Now, I’m Yondan (4th-degree black belt). Nothing but mad love and respect for Mizukami Sensei.
President Theodore Roosevelt said in The Man in the Arena:
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
The “talking heads” and haters of the world don’t matter. Really. They’re not you, the one who “strives valiantly” and “fails while daring greatly” for what’s meaningful to you. Mad love and respect to you.
I’m on Match dot com. I’m not Michael B. Jordan handsome. I’m 5’ 3”. 58 years-old. I’m not at all good at online dating. I’ve failed a lot. I’m still single. Yet, I’ve met several wonderful women.
I’m as authentic as I can be. Going into Match dot com, I got that I would fail a whole lot. Recently, Match dot com sent a ‘celebratory’ email that someone had messaged me back. Turns out, Jane said, “Sorry. I don’t think we’re a match…” She graciously wished me well in future dating. She was very kind. I was grateful, being that’s not always the case in responses. Just saying.
In dating, I’ve failed while daring bravely many times. Yet, I met Jacqui and Natasha. No, I wasn’t what they were looking for. Yet, I got to spend time with wonderful women. The upside of bravely daring to fail.
In 2018, I self-published my first book, Living With Love: The Way of the Warrior following encouragement from my dear friend for over 40 years, Ken, who was a 2-time bestselling author. I wrote the book after going through my own trials, tribulations, and depression. I wrote the book for someone out there who could have been me. I wanted to let them know that they’re greater than they know themselves to be. To grind it out for the new day.
I never expected that my book would be a fairytale bestseller. I failed. I sold about three dozen copies of the book. Still, I continued to write. Writing is meaningful to me.
Ken hooked me up with Lisa Blacker, an Executive Editor at The Good Men Project. Lisa and I have collaborated on over 250 posts. We’re working on publishing books together with Lisa’s company. This possibility arose, because I risked, failed, and kept going.
Do you do, only because you can win?
Failing valiantly at something meaningful is is worth taking the risk. Take the glancing blows in life, if you have to. Daring to be greater means daring to fail greatly, too. I believe we can all live with that kind of failure. Just saying.
—
This post was republished on Medium.
***
Improve your writing, expand your reach, and monetize your craft.
Join The Good Men Project’s Writers’ Community on Patreon.
We welcome all experience levels.
Learn more on our Patreon page.
***
Photo credit: Shutterstock
