Let me share something that recently happened to me. I was demonstrating a variant of a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu position known as side control. It is a fundamental posture that I have been doing, at this point, for years; I have also been on the receiving end more than I would care to remember. I explained what I think are the main points: top hand under the neck to establish cross-face pressure; head down; knees close to the torso, with the bottom knee snug against the hip; our hips shifted forward onto our partner, rather than back up in the air. I thought I was being quite analytical, even methodical, explaining exactly why it is so important to drop that weight and to keep the knee welded to that hip.
“And you’re using your bottom elbow to block the outer hip,” the person I was demonstrating the technique for told me.
Now I have a choice. I can say, “Obviously, and that is such a basic move that it is beneath my dignity to even mention it,” preserving an image as an all-knowing, totally plugged-in ground combat instructor while skirting, perhaps, the truth.
Instead I say something along the lines of, “I guess I am. I hadn’t really thought about that, but that’s a really good insight because preventing the hip escape is key.”
In fact, I don’t think anyone had ever explicitly instructed me to block the outside hip. But through the trial and error of the grappling chess match that is BJJ, I apparently internalized this little detail. When I didn’t control the hip, my partner escaped, so I naturally moved to control the hip. And I didn’t even think to mention this as something that I consciously do, because it was so fundamental.
Being reminded about that elbow was a gift twice over. First, it reminded me that the best way to hone one’s practice is to teach it to others—they will notice every inconsistency and sometimes highlight important elements that you might overlook. Second, it demonstrated that we often do consequential things without thinking of them, which I think runs a bit deeper than muscle memory—it impacts how we interact with others.
The second half of that epiphany—this one entirely self-guided—came a few days later when I was leading a Management Training Academy workshop on thoughtful listening. In that session, I break down the act (or is it the art?) of listening into three elements, leading the group in some experimentation: what if we deliberately listen badly? How does that feel? How does it make the person speaking feel? How do we react when those steps aren’t present?
I said, as I usually do, that I’m not presenting all this didactically as someone who has discovered something previously unrevealed to humanity. Rather, it’s all about focusing more intentionally on little things we do every day.
That is when it hit me. Just like me framing the outer hip with my elbow to prevent my partner from hipping out, we might not think about nodding along with someone while they are talking to us, but we are definitely doing it for a reason. And if we stop doing it, both of us will notice something is off (though they still might not be able to hip out if you keep your elbow strategically placed, assuming that you are having this conversation from the vantage point of top side control).
Framing my discussion of thoughtful listening as, “You are probably already doing this, without even thinking about it, and that’s okay,” seemed to resonate with the participants. Focusing tightly on the little things we do can yield powerful and useful realizations. It helps to have someone else to point those things out (which, again, is why instructing is so helpful to mastery), but I think that we can also unlock our unconscious-but-important pieces by thinking carefully about every step of what we are doing.
Bringing the discovery full circle, the day after my workshops I was leading a BJJ class. After warming up and stretching, we usually go over techniques—takedowns, sweeps, escapes, or submissions, most commonly. I will confess that I had not planned to be leading that class and hadn’t fully thought out a sequence of linked techniques that would make sense. So I instead explained to the class my recent revelations about that bottom elbow in side control, and listening, and asked that we all think about what we aren’t thinking about when we practice, and why that might be important. That also seemed to go over well—they are a patient and generous bunch. It led to some serious thought and good demonstrations of technique.
Another insight that I can share from my work as an ombuds, often talking with people facing some level of conflict and frustration, is that frequently people who say “I don’t know what to do,” or discuss feeling trapped and helpless have done quite a bit before I even speak with them—it’s just that it felt so natural doing it, they didn’t even consider it “something.” But to me it is no less significant, because it is a reminder that they are an intelligent and capable person who is doing the best in a difficult situation, not a powerless pawn unable to act.
If I can go full meta here, more likely than not you sometimes examine your unconscious “little things” without intending to, at least whenever something crops up to make the previously invisible (to you, at least) momentarily visible. Perhaps even doing it so often that you are…not aware that you are doing it.
Even if you are already unintentionally interrogating your unconscious words and deeds, thinking intentionally about the small things we instinctively do might help us realize something about ourselves or those around us. It might give us some insight into why we do things the way we do. Best of all, it might help us see new ways of talking and acting that might make us happier, or at least less frustrated.
Thinking about what I have written, I now realize that, in attempting to share a technique with others, I have used it on myself.
It seems that helping people be less frustrated is important enough to me that I express it frequently, whether it is by explaining the elements of a strong side control that will keep your partner from escaping, asking folks to think about how they listen and are listened to, or writing about all of that. Now that I am aware that I’m trying to help others minimize frustration, my brainstorming process should be considerably easier—at least until I find something else that I’m not aware of yet.
So until next time, expect the unexpected, stay informed, and I’ll stay informal.
30
