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Strength in a world of fragile egos

I realized something over this past weekend. I thought I had a good handle on my frame and what’s at stake when I fall off track. I thought I was compassionate and wholly ready to serve others. Not so fast...

I went to Costco with my wife and my kid and I found myself getting irritated by the fact that a large percentage of the people I encountered are pre-diabetic, hypertensive, experiencing high inflammation, on and on…

I got sad for a moment thinking about how many people will never encounter the wake up call to get these conditions rectified. I came home and unpacked this dread for humanity that I never knew I had. At first brush, I framed it as compassion- but that’s not 100% honest. Then, I pondered it awhile and thought, the main reason this concerns me is because I could have easily become that person.

I have definitely fallen asleep at the wheel more than once in my life and each time, whether I was numbing myself smoking weed, tying them on a little bit after my shifts when I worked in the culinary world, or just eating like there’s no tomorrow and no consequences, I have been lucky enough to somehow been reminded that this was not the route to where I want to be.

It is a very dicey thing to start looking at others in what we convince ourselves is compassion but when we are honest with ourselves, we can see that it can quickly morph into elitist judgement, contempt, and even indifference. This is dangerous and unhealthy because it can compound quickly before we even realize it is out of control.

My purpose isn’t to condemn, my purpose is to uplift as others have done for me. And those 50-somethings, red-faced and tired, pushing a cart full of processed food, and USDA choice? They’re only a doctor visit, a less-than-inspiring lab away from a life-changing decision. It’s far too easy to silently inject shame into the room and like it or not, people can sense when they’re being secretly mocked, even if your lips never move.

So, I found myself thinking about all the moments I have been given grace, uplifted and forgiven, and allowed to re-enter the forge on my journey. I picked up my workout journal in February after having joined a busy startup the previous August. The last journal entry in it was from the last week of October! I convinced myself I had gotten too busy temporarily and it snowballed to the tune of 3 months of inertia. I am glad I was able to get back on it, but how did that much time creep by? Part of what I avoided (and I hate this about my gym) was hearing “I haven’t seen you in a while.” “Where were you?”

I know this to be true because the psychology of this has hit me anytime in the past where I was living in narrative instead of quietly stoking the fire.

Contrast this with Jiu Jitsu, a consistent mainstay in my life at this point. If we have a busy week, family complexity gets in the way, work appointments go long, or anything shakes things up and causes us to miss a night, we get back on the train relatively quickly at this point in time. Why is that?

Because the best Dojos are known for that. The resistance we feel when we break a vow to ourselves is real. That guy that said he wanted to start in January and didn’t show back up until April is carrying enough, a burden which you may never know.

Dojos are never interested in your excuse, your reasons or your justifications. They never judge, they don’t assign make-up work and this is an important distinction because the focus is mastery and masters aren’t interested in narrative, only progression, discipline and consistency.

This all hit hard with a little mental game reflection when I recalled that an hour before Costco, I was with my wife and son at the local climbing gym. I spent my time in the fitness area (I climbed when I was younger but truly have nothing to prove in that arena, do not like tight shoes, & need another sport like I need a hole in the head) because they wanted to boulder and I went along for the ride because I just love that environment. Truthfully, I could go there even if I didn’t move a single weight because I thrive in environments where not one ego-maniac can be found, only people showing up, pursuit of self-mastery and the air in a place like that hits different. Community and progress are invisibly contagious in that biome.

So, I’m there, I’m training and I start talking to a guy who is there training his co-worker. Co-worker is mid-20’s, tradesman vibes, long beard and built like an offensive lineman. The kind of guy that will get really strong when he finds his rhythm and holds onto his why.

It turns out they hang drywall together and trainer is 3 years into a serious lifting habit, I watch him work. His ethos is gentle but firm, on par with my strength, deadlifts 225, nothing exceptional but progressing. I walk over to co-worker, introduce myself. A few questions about his day and I learn he has never worked out but decided he wanted to get leaner, stronger.

He entered through the door of climbing and regardless of which of them initiated the informal arrangement, he was there, humbled, smiling, feeling that familiar sting of worked muscles, flow of endorphins. I remember when I first got on the horse- and back on the horse…and back on the horse again. And ultimately I begin to remember those who encouraged me along the way (and there have been many). I remember the ones who did it valiantly and I remember the elitist influencer types who quietly judged and looked down their nose at the chubby kid with nearly zero upper body strength. And the ones who did that exist in my memory as faceless cameos, donning shiny spandex like an armor for their fragile egos- but the ones who put out an arm and pulled me up, showed me a new way to approach strength- I remember them all. I remember the juxtaposition of their inviting softness, allowing me to just begin (and begin again) where I was. Those are the ones that inspired me.

Because the truth is, success rarely looks like a steady uphill climb, it’s more jagged, more interesting, marked with peaks and valleys, then long climbs to even higher peaks. That’s who I aim to be like. When I realized the feelings I had in Costco were starting to look a lot like conclusions instead of potential, I caught myself and corrected my frame. I encouraged co-worker to stick with it. Trainer was so kind and the willingness to take co-worker by the hand and lead him to the forge was celestial. I needed the reminder. Humility is a big part of the canon of leadership. I began to see the opportunity for awakening. In a dojo, the door is always open. If a guy in his fifties walks in, the question I will ask is not, “where were you for the past 30 years?” or “why are you just starting now?” It becomes, “why are you here?” and “Let’s begin where you are” Let’s get warmed up and start learning how to shrimp.