I sat on the edge of the mat and watched a match between two skilled grapplers. A beautiful dance of control and resistance was going on as muscles strained and sweat poured out.
As one player tapped, giving way to the other player’s skill, John Danaher’s words kept playing in my head:
“It’s such an honest and open form of competition, your whole body, spirit, and mind against another person’s, where there is a clear and definitive winner, where one person wins and one person surrenders.”
In Jiu-Jitsu, there is no way to lie. On the mats, every move you make shows how prepared you are, how determined you are, and how strong you are.
You cannot hide behind bravado or an excuse. As soon as the roll starts, it is just you and your opponent—no masks, no tricks, just competition.
It was hard for me to learn this lesson. In the beginning, I thought tapping meant I had lost and was a sign that I had failed.
Each submission felt like a spotlight shining on my flaws. I hated it. But then I understood that giving up in Jiu-Jitsu does not mean losing; it means learning.
The tap is not a sign of weakness; it is a sign of progress. Every time I gave up, I saw more clearly what I needed to do to get better.
It made me feel small, pushed me to grow, and encouraged me to explore my mind, body, and spirit more.
Since then, I have seen Jiu-Jitsu as a metaphor for life. Competition is honest, so it makes you face your flaws and shows you what you are capable of.
To find the strength to show up, face your fears, and enjoy the journey with an open heart is not just about winning.
In this one-of-a-kind art, dominance is not always what it means to win. Knowing when to give up, regroup, and come back stronger is sometimes the best way to win.
That is what makes Jiu-Jitsu so great. Every roll is a chance to talk, every tap is a lesson, and every match is a chance to get better, not just as martial artists but as people.
So, I keep rolling, thankful that the mats make me be honest and make things clear.
Thanks for reading!
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