Category Archives: Philosophy

Five Traits for Leadership

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“The purpose of life is a life of purpose.” – Stanley McChrystal

Having good coaches, having good mentors, having men or women you respect as role models, is important. They are all around. You can find them in surprising places. They aren’t always Generals, like Stanley McChrystal. They are everyday people doing things for other everyday people, everywhere. Having them in your life directly is a blessing. And it is one of the great benefits of a good Tribe. But they don’t have to be physically present, or even of this generation. You can pick your mentors from anywhere, and any time period. For me that means people like Dr. James Orbinski and Charles Darwin. People who, after spending time with them in books, leave me both inspired and wondering what the hell I am doing with my life. People like the Stoics, not the self-help gurus. I don’t recommend picking those who profit on building up your self esteem, like Tony Robbins (I highly recommend Steve Salerno’s book on that topic SHAM). I do recommend picking those who, after reading about their actual lives, make you feel a touch of shame. I need that. It reminds me what we as human can do – when we are our best. Pick mentors, living or dead, who are not just better accomplished, but actually better human beings.

The qualities of leadership vary, just as human beings do. General Marshall and General MacArthur were both world class leaders. And they couldn’t have been more different. But as is usually the case, and just as it is with delivery systems, it’s useful for us to look at leadership traits they shared. Things all the good leaders I’ve met and read about in my life seem to have in common.

Let’s break these down.

There is such a thing as a natural leader. And you can learn the skills of leadership. Those two statements are not in contradiction.

What’s a natural leader? A natural leader is the kid in school, who walks into the room confident and makes a plan, which the other kids naturally follow, and who just assumes that role. You know them when you see them. If you’ve taught school, even pre-school, you’ve probably enlisted their aid in keeping the other kids in line. Sometimes, unguided, these kids can become bullied, bullies, or even outcasts – because they’re different. But with some direction they can also thrive as leaders.

Being a leader is a necessary component of running a successful gym, at least the kind we build in SBG, because those gyms are also communities, Tribes. Those communities require leaders, men and women who have the confidence needed to do what’s necessary, and the integrity required to take responsibility for it if it fails, or needs adjusting. Travis Davison is such a man. He was my fourth black belt, and the first black belt from my own Portland Gym (my first three black belts being Luis Gutierrez in Florida, John Kavanagh in Ireland, and Karl Tanswell, who was from the UK). When he was a young blue and purple belt, he still acted as a kind of natural social hub. Students who were experiencing different issues but who were too afraid to talk to me, the head coach (this is not an uncommon phenomenon), found themselves discussing things over with Travis. This wasn’t because he was appointed to that position at the time. It wasn’t because I suggested it. It was just who he is. Some people are natural leaders. His better half, Kisa, is the same way. It’s no surprise then that when they moved to Montana, and opened up their own gym, it quickly grew and flourished.

As confident as I am that some like Travis, possess natural leadership skills – I am equally sure that others, almost anyone, can be taught them. And more to the point, that all of us no matter what our experience level is, can always get better at them. Even General MacArthur.

How do we become better leaders?

By working on the five skills that are found in every leader I’ve ever met or studied – regardless of how different they were:

1- Confidence: display confidence, always – but stay honest.
2- Implementation: take action, always. Never complain or whine.
3- Accountability: take full responsibility – no excuses.
4- Inspiration: build others up, always. Rejoice in their success.
5- Gratitude: be grateful for everything, always. But always strive for more.

Trait one, confidence, is essential if you’re going to teach. All of our coaches in SBG go through extensive coaching programs designed to give them the skill-sets needed to teach a good class. One of the most common and most pernicious fallacies out there in the BJJ world is the notion that, because someone is good at BJJ themselves, meaning they have skills when they roll, they must therefore know how to teach. We will discuss this in more depth further on, but suffice it to say, some of the worst BJJ teachers I’ve ever met were world champions.

The first lesson we give them in the intro, coaching 101 course, is that confidence, which in application can mean something as simple as speaking loudly and clearly, is the foundation every other teaching skill is built on. No one pays for a class where the teacher mumbles inarticulately, with wishy-washy statements, ambiguous instruction, and an anxious demeanor. To command the class you need to stand tall, speak loudly, and let the students know exactly what they are supposed to be doing. If you can’t do that, you can’t even begin the process of teaching a group well.

This doesn’t mean false bravado, or any pretense to knowledge one doesn’t actually have. Our coaches are taught to say “I don’t know”, anytime they don’t actually know. Remember, authenticity is one of the cornerstones of SBG. A common phrase you might hear one of our younger coaches use is “I don’t know. But that’s a good question. Let’s ask coach Cane.” Or, if the students have more experience – “I don’t know. But that’s a good question. Let’s try and see if we can problem solve that.”

I’ve seen coaches that were a little too cocky. And when that happens, the process itself will humble you, because Jiu-Jitsu will always throw up new questions that no one, except maybe Rickson, has all the answers for. I’ve also seen coaches that were too humble, and who felt they needed to roll with, and tap out every student in the class, before they would feel comfortable enough to teach. Both extremes are misguided.

First, no one has all the answers to the problems that arise in a fight, or a Jiu-Jitsu class. We use the principles of Jiu-Jitsu to find the answers. And we focus on fundamentals. But we always have to be humble about our Jiu-Jitsu, or our Jiu-Jitsu will humble us.

Second, it isn’t your job to prove Jiu-Jitsu, or any of the delivery systems we teach, works. That experiment has been done and repeated countless times. The material stands on its own. Confidence isn’t cocky. Confidence is commanding yes, but it is also kind. Finding the right balance, confident in your curriculum but humble in your application, is an ongoing and never ending process. Confidence: display confidence, always – but stay honest.

After confidence comes implementation, and that could just as accurately be phrased – doing. Leaders are doers. Leaders implement. When something is wrong, when something needs fixing, some people complain and whine about it. Others do something about it. The doers are the leaders. A student isn’t getting something, don’t bitch about it – help them. The gym isn’t running as it should. Don’t moan about it – repair it. You have to step up and lead from the front.

Lead from the front is something you’ll hear a lot, from a lot of people. If you are someone who plans on saying it a lot, I suggest you think deeply about it – deeper than most go.

It is good advice. Marcus Aurelius phrased it as being strict with yourself and lenient with others. An admonition I try and remember everyday. Don’t ask from others what you’re unwilling to give. This is all good advice. But it isn’t enough to model one behavior, and fail as a hypocrite on another. Leading from the front requires two key things – first, we must never forget what Aurelius said. And second, we must keep the big picture in mind – what do you really want to lead on? Don’t pick little tasks. Tasks vary in meaning, person to person, and moment to moment. Lead on traits and principles. Principles and traits transcend tasks. What would you really like to embody?

It’s your list to make. But by way of example, I’ve picked three:

Happy, Kind, and Productive.

Happy is a tough one. Happy is a result. So while listed as the first goal – first trait, it’s really best measured last.

Productive is getting stuff done. What stuff?

My general thesis as a teacher has always been that every individual is very different. Take competition, some will love to compete. For some I admire, competition is a solid path towards self-knowledge. For others, people I also like and admire, competition isn’t something they really want to do. It doesn’t move them. To push everyone towards competition would be a mistake. I don’t want them to be afraid of it. I don’t want my students to be afraid of anything like that. But I also don’t want them to feel shoved into it. So with something as benign as Jiu-Jitsu competition, I treat it like a new food. Try it at least once, you might like it. If not, that’s okay too. With MMA or boxing, it’s very different, due to the danger of TBI (traumatic brain injury). I only ever want those who truly feel drawn to fighting in a cage or ring for the right reasons, to ever try.

So this brings us back to productive. What does productive mean to you?

A book you need to write?
A family you need to spend more time with?
A friend you need to sit down and talk with?
A business that requires your attention?
An exercise routine you need to be doing?

Productive is, and should be, different for every person. And most of us know what we need to do. Even if it just means starting close, cleaning your room, washing the dishes in the sink. A Zen like approach. Do what you know should be done – now.

Next is kind. Kind, like happiness, is more difficult than productive. Aurelius was talking about being tough on yourself and understanding of others, but it’s always easier to externalize it all. Be tough on yourself and tough with everyone else. Demand so much from yourself, and others, that you live in a state of constant disappointment and anger. On a positive note, some people who live in that state can be extremely productive. They are always pushing. On a negative note, they also end up pushing people away. When you attack people they tend to shell up. They get harder to mold. That’s a failure of leadership.

Paul Sharp addressed this once when he talked about how he talked to himself. One of his mentors said to him “would you ever talk to anyone else the way you talk to yourself?” It’s worth thinking about. The best of us often trip up here.

Leadership is an act of picking people up, not pushing them away. And that picking up includes ourselves. Each and every day. Picking ourselves up, focusing on our objectives, being productive, and remembering to be kind along the way.

Productive. Wake up and make your bed.

Kind. How are you speaking to yourself, and others, as you do it.

Happy. The state that follows when both right action (productive) and right word (speech/thought) meet. Happy follows, naturally, from the above.

After thinking it through I realized my leadership objectives, what I wanted to model in myself, was a life that was productive, kind, and as a result happy. It’s one thing to say it, it’s another to implement it. Implementation: take action, always. Never complain or whine.

After confidence (attitude), and implementation (action), comes accountability.

The moment you make an excuse, you fail as a leader. The more accountable you are, the more you lead. Gym is failing, what did you do wrong? Class went badly, what did you do wrong? Staff is floundering, where did your training with them break down? It always comes back to you. Things go wrong. Problems arise. We do the best we can. It still happens. It always will. When it does, take full and complete responsibility. If it’s your staff’s fault, who hired them? Who trained them? Who supervises them? It’s still always you. If a student is being disruptive, who was in charge of the class? It’s still always you. It is always your fault.

Leaders assume responsibility. That’s called taking command. And a life lived with total responsibility, or as BJJ black belt and former SEAL commander Jocko Willink phrases it – extreme ownership – is a life well lived. Few things are as destructive for a human being as seeing themselves as the victims of their life, rather than the authors of it. Don’t be that human. It’s a miserable way to live. A surefire way to remain a loser. And a total barrier to leadership. Take ownership of your life by taking responsibility for all that happens in it – that’s leadership. Accountability: take full responsibility – no excuses.

A confident – accountable – doer, that’s a good start to a good life. But leading others requires a few more things. You also have to inspire them.

Inspiration can come from example, from seeing someone pick themselves up time and time again, from seeing someone overcome adversity. That’s one powerful way. There are others. Think about the things that inspire you. Watching people who care about you, take joy in your success, is inspiring. Noting how your continued success creates even greater opportunity for you to help others succeed, is inspiring. Good people succeeding, kind people, that’s inspiring. There is a pattern here.

Now think about what’s not inspiring. People who gloat after they win, are not inspiring. Selfish people, mean people, vulgar people, winners or not, are not inspiring. In fact, when people like that win, it often has an effect on others that’s the opposite of inspiring. There is a pattern here as well.

Rejoicing in the success of people who work hard and earn it, is healthy and inspiring. It is inspiring for those who worked hard, and inspiring for those who noticed. To inspire people is to build them up, not tear them down. Ridicule, sarcasm, insults, these things are not inspirational. Good coaches care enough to hold their students accountable, but they also use the power of their words to build them up. To let them know that they can pick themselves up. They can keep trying. That although the end goal may never be reached, that, as Coach Fitz said we would never conquer the weakness within, drive the worst of ourselves away for good, or finally, completely win – there is glory in the quality of that struggle. And that’s inspiring. Inspiration: build others up, always. Rejoice in their success.

Finally, gratitude. Confident – accountable – doers that inspire others, is as good a definition as I’ve seen. That’s leadership. But at the end of the day, when all is said and done, when the training is over, the matches finished, the lessons completed, what do we leave ourselves with, what do we hold to so we don’t lose our way? Here I would draw a distinction between leaders that have found their way to happiness, and those still searching. That happiness, to the degree I’ve experienced it, can be measured in gratitude.

Gratitude – for those that came before. My coaches, like me, made mistakes. Those mistakes paved a way forward, because as their student I could learn from them, and as a result, to a degree, not repeat them. I advanced forward thanks to their hard work. I am forever grateful to them. Not just for what they taught me to do right, but also, for what they showed me would turn out wrong.

Few things are as a vulgar as a sense of entitlement. Like hypocrisy, or vanity, entitlement betrays a weakness of character. Entitlement is the opposite of gratitude. Every Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu coach on the planet, every BJJ Instructor who makes his living teaching this art, who puts food on his or her table by promoting our sport, has the Gracie family to thank, in one form or another. Were they perfect? Who is? Did they make mistakes? Who doesn’t? Was your grandfather, or great grandmother perfect? Did he or she make mistakes? Do we want to be the kind of human being who looks backwards, from our advanced and privileged vantage point, and judges our ancestors with contempt and conceit? We know what people like that look like – and it’s gross. Or instead, do we want to wake up thankful for all the lessons their lives have given us, while remaining driven to try and make ourselves and those around us better in every way? Only one of those two options lends itself to a state rightly called happy.

My coach Chris Haueter, had to deal with the Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu politics in a way I never did. He wasn’t the type of American who sucked up to his teachers by using a fake Brazilian accent, sheepishly emoting “Oss!”, or adopting that 9th grader bad boy persona that’s so popular amongst the dull. Because of that, he was respected by the Brazilians in a way those who belonged to the ‘bowed too low when you’re looking’ crowd never could be. But he still had to watch his step if he wanted to be received with open doors at the next training session. I never did. My sessions were hundreds of miles away. And I was training with wrestlers whose only interest was what you could do, not who you name dropped. My position was a luxury. Without Chris putting up with what he did to learn what he could, I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did, one thousand miles north. Who would I be if I forgot that?

Last weekend I sat in a restaurant after one of our large Spring Camps. My wife Salome was there. My baby son was with us. Everyone was laughing, and happy. And I turned to Travis Davison and told him that I can’t believe we get paid for this. Everyday I get to do what I love for a living. To be able to teach Jiu-Jitsu and functional martial arts, and feed my family doing so, is something I’m always grateful for. It isn’t something I ever take for granted. And I thank my coaches and my ancestors everyday for the privilege.

Think for a moment about what life was like for your great grandmother. In Steven Pinker’s latest book ‘Enlightenment Now’, he presents volumes of evidence, which show conclusively just how far we’ve advanced in just about every measure of human well-being. Let’s look at just the last century, since my great grandmother was born. A third of children in the richest parts of the world used to die before the age of five, and today that figure is 6 percent in the poorest countries; maternal mortality in the poorest parts of the world is less than a third the rate that the richest experienced two centuries ago. The proportion of people killed annually in wars is one-sixth of what it was in the 1970s. Literacy has climbed from 12 to 83 percent of the world’s population, and child labor is slowly dying out as schooling becomes universal. And I am only skimming the surface. These advances are so easy to forget. Our current state of, by our ancestor’s standards, unimaginable prosperity can effortlessly be taken for granted – if we allow it. Don’t. Gratitude: be grateful for everything, always. But always strive for more.

1- Confidence: display confidence, always – but stay honest.
2- Implementation: take action, always. Never complain or whine.
3- Accountability: take full responsibility – no excuses.
4- Inspiration: build others up, always. Rejoice in their success.
5- Gratitude: be grateful for everything, always. But always strive for more.

Five traits I try and nurture daily. It isn’t always a winning process. I fail all the time. I have moments where I lack confidence. I frequently procrastinate when I should be implementing. I don’t always take full accountability, and can hear myself making excuses, even if only in my head. I know there are many occasions, too many, where I have failed to inspire. And if I was as grateful as I should be, I’d certainly be happier. But I wake up, and try again. It’s all any of us can do.

In David Brooks’ book, ‘The Road to Character’, he offers profiles of some of our greatest leaders. Men like Eisenhower, and women like Dorothy Day. Thoughtful biographies, written by authors like Brooks, remind us of the lesson Coach Fitz tried to teach – that the glory to be had is found in the quality of the struggle. Familiarize yourself with the kind of historical figures Brooks writes about, and other, real human beings, who model these same qualities. I’m fortunate to be surrounded by men and women better than I am. Do the same.

Governing Fear

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Learning to be comfortable in uncomfortable situations is one of the greatest lessons Jiu-Jitsu teaches us. During Rickson’s recent visit to Oregon he shared a story about overcoming a great discomfort, one that I’ve seen a lot of students struggle with – claustrophobia.

He’d been rolling for sometime already that day. Just before he left the mat, he decided he’d have one more match with a much larger opponent. And on that day, the bigger guy managed to hold Rickson down. He smothered him under his weight.

Feeling like he couldn’t move, feeling like he couldn’t breath – Rickson panicked.

Rickson tapped. And as he slowly stood up, he knew he never wanted to experience that again. He never wanted to feel like he couldn’t take in a breath. He never wanted to panic.

He needed to come up with a creative way to try and overcome this anxiety. At home that afternoon he saw a large carpet spread out in the back yard, and that’s when the idea made itself clear.

Rickson called his brother into the backyard, and explained his strategy. Arms by his side and legs straight, his brother rolled Rickson up tight inside the carpet. So tight and so wedged in, that unrolling himself would be impossible. Rickson gave his brother very specific instructions. Under no circumstances was he allowed to let him out, until 30 minutes had passed; no matter what Rickson yelled or said.

Following Rickson’s instructions, his brother left the backyard.

At first, he said, it was hell.

It was hot.

It was dark.

It was so tight, even wiggling his fingers was impossible.

He began to panic.

Then something interesting happened. Recognizing that his brother wasn’t going to return to let him out until a half hour had passed, his breathing slowed down, his chattering mind slowed down, his heart rate slowed down, he started to relax.

Like clockwork, 30 minutes later his brother returned, unrolled him from the carpet, and according to Rickson, he’s never panicked in a match since.

I’m not recommending this specific technique to you. Do not try this at home. Rickson is Rickson. But, there are a lot of lessons to pull from that short anecdote. *(note: real mental illness, beyond the normative fears we all deal with, is illness, and should always be treated with professional medical help). To begin with note that Rickson ran towards his fears, not away from them. He chose his own variation of what would now be called ‘exposure therapy’. Everyone I’ve known who has overcome a specific fear, has done so using that path.

Second, make note of the time restriction. Rickson took away his own ‘out’.

At first, taking away your own out seems like it would inspire more fear and panic, and in one sense there is no doubt that it does, for a moment. In fact, that’s part of its benefit; but there is another way to look at this. By taking away his ‘out’, Rickson took away his decision. Once his brother walked out of the backyard, Rickson knew he wouldn’t come back for at least a half hour. There was nothing he could do about that, and so, there was nothing for his mind to deliberate about. It was out of his hands. As a more religious person would say, it was now in ‘God’s hands’, or at the very least, his brothers hands.

One, non-religious, variation of this that some of our coaches’ say to their athletes is – the work is done. As in, there are no decisions left to make. It’s just time to do your thing. That’s a statement that, if believed, lends itself to surrender. And by surrender I don’t mean quitting. I don’t mean surrendering the objective. To the contrary, I mean surrendering the debate about the objective. I mean accepting what actually is – right now. It’s not if you are going to fight, or how you are going to fight, it’s just fight. The work is done.

The third piece that can be easily overlooked is trust. Rickson trusted his brother enough to be able to put himself in an extremely vulnerable position. After all, what if his brother wandered off, got drunk, forgot, and Rickson had been left there for a day or more? But Rickson isn’t dumb. He put himself in an extremely vulnerable position so that he could make himself stronger, but he did it with the help of someone he could really trust.

There’s a formula here. It’s one all of us in this sport, and field, use a lot.

The willingness to engage in competition and the willingness to be vulnerable, exist in equal measure, if the competition itself is a worthy one.

I was at a social event recently when someone brought up the subject of Conor MacGregor.

“He just doesn’t seem to be frightened about anything”, they said.

In this particular case, they meant that as a compliment. What they were trying to point out is, who else out there has the balls to consistently step outside of their comfort zone the way Conor does? And they’re right, in that sense. But I’ve heard variations of the “he isn’t scared by anything.” – “he seems fearless” comment, about one fighter or another, for decades. And more often than not, the person making the statement is missing something huge.

Whether someone recognizes it or not, these ideas of ‘fear-less-ness’ are variations on the “why take this fight out of his weight class with Diaz?” Or, “why take a boxing match at all, it’s just about money.” While one set of statements may seem like a compliment (fearless), and the other set of comments more of an insult (bad judgment or cynical) – they all share something in common – they miss the same, in fact identical, huge piece.

What piece?

The reality that everyone, even a great fighter, gets scared.

That is in fact, the point.

That’s why we watch.

Conor doesn’t take these fights because he’s fearless, short sighted, or greedy. He takes them because they’re a challenge. He takes them for the same reason Rickson had himself rolled up in carpet.

It isn’t brave if you’re not scared. It isn’t scary if you’re not pushing your limits – if you’re not vulnerable to loss. If you’re not putting yourself in vulnerable positions, your choice of competition isn’t a worthy one. And if you are putting yourself in vulnerable positions, and you’re intelligent, than well – at some points you will be destined to feel ‘vulnerable’. You will experience fear. That’s a good thing. It means you’re doing your job.

Training grants confidence. But it doesn’t eliminate fear. Everyone feels fear. The difference is, some just refuse to let it diminish them.

Many years ago I asked Randy Couture how he stayed so calm. If you go back and watch his fights you’ll find him smiling, in the cage, before each battle begins. He told me it was always scary to hear that door latch shut – but he wasn’t going to let his opponent see that.

All athletes who’ve challenged themselves know this secret. You never eliminate fear. You learn to carry on in spite of it.

Marcus Aurelius said, “The first rule is to keep an untroubled spirit. The second is to look things in the face and know them for what they are.”

He didn’t say look away and pretend things were what you wished them to be. He said look them in the face and know them for what they are. That’s what combat athletes do to fear. That’s what all warriors throughout the Millennia have done to fear. They’ve looked it in the face and known it for what it really is. That’s what courage is.

Confront your anxiety. Look your fear in the face and know it for what it really is. Put yourself in vulnerable positions. Be willing to lose. That’s step one in the formula.

Step two is harder to name, and almost impossible to quantify. It’s what Rickson felt when he finally let go his fear and relaxed inside the carpet. It’s what focused athletes achieve when they are performing at their best. You can call it mindfulness. You can call it the zone. You can call it detached, or you can call it dialed in. It appears as a form of control. But control is the wrong word. I’ll quote again from Aurelius, because despite living over 1800 years ago, I’ve yet to hear a better contemporary version:

“You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”

There is much to be said for Stoic philosophy. Yet distilled down, it’s little different from what the best of us do when the circumstances, the challenges, dictate it. Steel your mind to things that lay under your control, and let go of things that are not. Is there any doubt that our grandfathers who stormed the beaches on D-day knew, or quickly learned, that?

Is there a better word for the moment that Rickson resolved himself to the fact that there was no way for him to escape the carpet, than ‘surrender’?

I’ve not found one.

I know fighters who hate the word. They equate it to tapping out, to loss. But we could just as easily say ‘accept’. Accept what? Accept what you have no control over. In that acceptance there is great strength.

John Kavanagh told me once that despite being an open atheist, he had no problems using the phrase “it’s in God’s hands”, assuming that athlete was religious, as his final words before they stepped into the cage. It makes sense.

“All the work has been done”, is another version of the same truism. The hours have been logged. The grueling sessions completed. The dieting over. The strategy considered. The technique refined. The movement polished.

Let it go now.

Get out of your way.

Let your body do its thing.

That act takes the anxiety that occurs when the brain is stuck in decision mode, should I do X or Y, and dissolves it. Fight or flight is replaced by doing. And that can take the human animal into one of its most graceful, and effective states.

One of the remarkably beautiful things about Jiu-Jitsu is that people of all ages, all backgrounds, all athletic abilities, from competitor to desk jockey, can experience that zone, that realm of perfect focus, that space of letting go – by rolling.

This is step two in our formula. First you confront your fear by putting yourself in a position where by definition you can, and in most circumstances will, repeatedly lose. Exposure – exposure to what? Exposure to failure, exposure to conflict, exposure to contact, exposure to stress – that’s the inoculation against denial that works. That’s what Aurelius meant by looking things in the face. And that’s found in every combat sport. Stepping onto the Jiu-Jitsu, MMA, Judo, or wrestling mat, and having to deal with another human being who is really trying to choke you, or put you in a position where they can break your limb; someone really fighting with you, while your peers watch, while your coach observes, while your mind does what it does, whether that self talk is positive or negative, whether that body is amped up or warming up – that practice – heals the human animal. It teaches you that being ashamed at how your body reacts is silly, and that ignoring the intentions of others because you don’t want them to be true is anything but helpful. It makes you stronger.

Tht leads to step two, once in the arena, whatever that arena is for you, be it a rolled up carpet, anxiety ridden confrontation, or physical fight, you focus only on what’s within your control, and let the rest, for that moment, go.

As Aurelius said: “You have power over your mind – not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”

I want to stress, before moving onto our last piece of the puzzle, the variety of arenas people have. You never know what struggles other people are dealing with in their own lives. Suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, PTSD, financial stress, sick children, dying spouses, cancer, even eminent death. Everyone has his or her own battles. People have different strengths, and different failings. Giving a speech to a crowd might be a day at the office for one person, and a journey into sheer terror for another. You don’t know their wiring. You don’t know their history. You don’t know their battle. That alone should give us pause before we cast judgment. But it doesn’t change the formula.

I grew up an introverted book worm who was scared of physical contact. Martial Arts, and ultimately Jiu-Jitsu, changed that for me completely – through exposure.

My wife never had the safety and stability as a child that she and I now provide our children. The consequence of that is that she often wrestles with persistent anxiety in social circumstances. That’s very common. More common than many people may realize. The prescription for overcoming it is the same. Exposure. I nudge her into social situations that might require a bit of confrontation.

With our daughters we do the same. Though neither has any anxiety about talking to strangers, learning how to do it properly, meaning, with a demeanor that is both respectful, and politely assertive, is something I try and help instill in them. How? By having them engage in interactions with strangers while their mom and I observe. Every time we go out, they’re training.

This brings us to the last piece. The role Rickson’s brother played. The role a good father plays. The role a mentor plays. The role a good coach, or team, plays. What every successful fighter and trainer share. What exists between Conor and his coach, John Kavanagh, the last piece of our three part formula – trust.

When I first started teaching, more than 25 years ago, training consisted primarily of conditioning exercises, alive drilling, and lots and lots of sparring. We rolled, we did MMA, we boxed, we fought on old mats, we fought on concrete, we wore all forms of assorted safety gear that we would procure from other sports, and we hit each other, full power, with fists, feet, knees, elbows, rattan sticks, and wooden knives.

I did a lot of things wrong in those years. There was no such thing as an MMA gym at the time. We were the first in Oregon. But that doesn’t excuse it. The mistakes were no one’s fault but my own. I was still in my mid twenties. I was immature. And above all else, I was selfish. I wanted my students to be good fighters, yes. And I taught them everything I had learned up to that point to help make them so. But I wanted them to be good fighters mostly because I wanted them to be good sparring partners for me – to make ‘me’ better. The undeniable responsibility that comes along with being another human being’s coach was lost on me. Too often I used sarcasm and ridicule where positive support would have been better served. Too often the training was too rough, the strikes too hard, the rolls too brutal, the head trauma too pointless. Knockouts happened. Knees to skulls happened. People were weeded out, and like an idiot, I thought that meant progress.

As I look back on it now I cringe. We’ve learned so much in the two decades since. I’ve learned so much. We didn’t know then, half of what we know now about traumatic brain injuries. But there was enough science for me to have known better. Still, each year that went by we did improve. Little by little, step-by-step, lesson-by-lesson, we changed. We evolved. The workouts became more scientific, and by definition, safer and more efficient. The skill sets became more defined. The psychology of everyone involved grew healthier. And finally, after years, the message beat its way through my stubborn personality and thick skull – being a coach was a massive responsibility. You could say the smallest, and in your own mind most innocuous thing, and the athlete would end up feeling like a superhuman, or, hate you forever. Right or wrong, warranted or not, such was the power of a coaches words in our sport. I wasn’t ready for that as a young man. I work every day to live up to it as an older one.

What I wasn’t always doing then, and what I strive to do daily now, is maintain an earned trust between myself, and my students. They know that their safety is my prime concern. One of my biggest failures from years past was keeping guys on my mat, or in my organization, that didn’t feel the same way.

By way of example, one such person, who left my school as a purple belt, was the type who would ask you to “slow roll” in a passive aggressive/creepy way, and then moments later try and break your arm. We, meaning myself and the other coaches, didn’t bother too much with it because we could always beat him down. And when I was around, he was better behaved. It was only after he left my gym to teach in Texas that I fully realized how badly I had failed as a coach. Person after person, everywhere I would go, every seminar I would teach, would come up to tell me their own personal horror story of rolling with this guy. I never asked, or brought the subject up. They always volunteered the information. Now that he was gone, they wanted me to know. It was always some variation of the same thing – he’d approach asking to roll, in a very meek way. They’d let their defenses down. He’d go hard, slap a submission on, and hurt them. It’s not an exaggeration to say I’ve had dozens of people relay these kinds of encounters with him to me.

Why did I keep him around? There is no excuse. But by way of an explanation that may serve as a lesson, it was a combination of sympathy and apathy. Myself and the other coaches felt some empathy for him because it was clear he was somewhat emotionally disturbed, and somewhat socially awkward. I’ve always held out Jiu-Jitsu as a great healer for people like that, and part of me was always hoping Jiu-Jitsu would provide a vehicle by which he could change. The less exculpatory reason was that he was never a threat to myself and the other coaches. And therein is my greatest failing. I didn’t put the least skilled, the most vulnerable of my students first. By keeping someone like him on the mat, I put them all at risk.

I made a similar mistake, organization wide, by keeping on a stand up coach who was just as emotionally disturbed, and even more of a bully. Again, there was no excuse. If you’re a coach or leader within a gym or academy, you have to do two things. First, you have to lead by example. Second, you have to police your mat. You are responsible for your culture. As former Navy SEAL Leif Babin says, when it comes to leadership, it’s not what you preach it’s what you tolerate.

To be clear, neither of the people mentioned above have stepped foot in an SBG for at least a decade, and neither would survive in one now. Not because we would beat them up, but because they’d be walking into an environment that has zero tolerance for the kind of behavior they exhibited. That’s the kind of culture you want to build.

In today’s SBG, creating an environment where everyone can feel vulnerable, where people aren’t afraid to lose, where challenges can be met safely, and intelligently, is our chief mission. And our staff worldwide does a great job of making sure that’s true. As one of our mottos’ proclaims:

This is SBG – you’ll be okay.

This brings us full circle to our 3rd and final part of the overcoming fear formula. As a coach, leader, and gym owner, your #1 responsibility is the creation and maintenance of an environment where people feel comfortable being vulnerable.

Let me repeat that.

Your most important job is maintaining a space where people feel okay being vulnerable.

Why?

Without that people will be afraid to lose. And if people are afraid to lose, they won’t take risks, they won’t step outside their comfort zone, they wont learn to govern their fear.

Part of the reason why Conor feels comfortable stepping outside his weight class to battle a phenomenal fighter like Nate Diaz, or outside his own sport to battle the number one boxer alive, is because he has a team and coach he trusts. He knows John will put his safety above all else. They’ve built a relationship – a bond. John has created an environment where his athletes and students feel safe losing. And that is the final, crucial piece to our three-step formula. Yes, you must be willing to let yourself be vulnerable, let yourself lose. And yes, once engaged, you have to get beyond fight or flight, let go of what you have no control over, and go right into do. But, to achieve that, you need to be in a place filled with people you trust.

You have to have a brother who you know, no matter what, will unroll you from the carpet.