By Njoli Brown
Every summer I spend about a month and a half out in the Northwest. I’m getting my hiking in, connecting with family and friends, yeah, hard life. But I also consider this the time where I earn my keep. I hit my boxing training a bit harder, I work my silat, try to make the rodas and capoeira classes I can and I double up my gym time when I’m not in the mountains.
Back in NYC I have a fantastic group of students and colleagues who’ve been generous over the past few years to work with me as I develop and to dedicate their time to learning what I have to teach. Now, I’m lucky in having some fantastic teachers who’ve spent years giving me the tools and the kind of support it takes to let me feel confident imparting their gifts. But all this being said, the worst thing an instructor can possibly do, is rest on his/her laurels. How many of us have seen the result? Too many.
Now this is obviously taking into account those with debilitating injuries, mental or physical conditions (ie age, disease), etc. Even so, I recall an event where my capoeira teacher taught his workshop from crutches. I also know a student who spent her year of physical recovery translating articles and interviews of old mestres from Portuguese to English. I figure, the least I can do is model the kind of consistent growth I ask of my students.
So, what does that look like. No, it doesn’t have to mean an extra 4 days a week at the gym or a complete overhaul of your training regimen. But what it does mean, is taking a good look at the holes in your game and exhibiting the kind of diligence it means to clean them up. Conditioning slipping? Perhaps show up that 20 minutes before class to jump rope (low impact on the knees and high return on the effort). Be okay with showing your students what it looks like to work before you work. Feel like you’re losing those fast hand mechanics? Get yourself to a boxing gym and ask folks who know the science to help you clean up your technique. Speed is as much muscle elasticity as it is strength. When was the last yoga class you hit. Local community center… free. Maybe I’m hurt and out to the physical game for a while but am I innovating in ways to train my mind?And maybe, just maybe, you need a reminder of what it’s like to not be good at something.
Push yourself, find the time and earn your keep.
*Thoughts? Suggestions? Definitely kick them down.
information that I had no hope to process… I just had to swallow as much as I could and try to keep up. The movements appeared familiar, and yet I couldn’t apply them in context. My timing was off, my footwork was backwards, and all of my instincts seemed wrong. After each lesson, I’d ride the subway for an hour from Queens back to Brooklyn and my head would literally ache. If you were to ask me, “what did you learn today?” I wouldn’t even be able to tell you and yet I could see myself improving. Hence, I was faced with a choice… I could accept returning to the status of a “beginner” or I could let my ego get the better of me. Fortunately I chose the former. By putting aside my pride and approaching the lessons with the beginner’s mentality, I feel I was not only able to learn the movements much faster, but to understand the underlying principles and philosophy at a deeper level. Ultimately, this experience proved beneficial to my progress in every style that I practice. I think that most arts run much deeper than we tend to recognize. Although it is not always overtly expressed, my teachers all seem to embody this appreciation. Despite their accomplishments and recognition, they are still students of their art. To me, that is one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned from them. If we view ourselves as a rank (black belt, lakan etc), we find ourselves repeatedly disappointed. We can never really live up to our own expectations of what that rank entails. However, when we recognize ourselves as beginners, we can only improve. This disposition has not only helped me progress as an artist, but ultimately has allowed me to reap more enjoyment from the arts.
