Awakening the Jiu-Jitsu Animal: Unleashing Our Natural Potential

Recently, I was listening to a podcast featuring my coaches Chris and Melissa Haueter. Melissa mentioned an intriguing concept: the "jiu-jitsu animal." She suggested that at the blue belt level, a practitioner's body begins to change, starting to look more like a grappler. This idea of a jiu-jitsu animal immediately captivated my imagination.

As Melissa spoke, I found myself envisioning a large wild beast freely roaming in a terrain with fallen trees and rock formations. What struck me most about this creature was its complete transformation, taken over by the art of jiu-jitsu, relying solely on its instincts and awareness. This vivid image seemed to embody the essence of what Melissa was describing - a transformation that begins at blue belt and progresses as we develop in the art.

This concept of a "jiu-jitsu animal" resonates deeply with our approach at Gentle Human, where we incorporate animal-inspired movements in our warm-ups and 42 postures. But Melissa's comment suggested something more profound - a metamorphosis that goes beyond mere physical appearance, encompassing a deep, instinctual trust in the principles of jiu-jitsu.

This transformation is reminiscent of the Animorphs books many of us read in our youth. Just as those young heroes could morph into any animal, absorbing its abilities and instincts, the journey to becoming a jiu-jitsu animal is a similar evolution. But unlike the Animorphs, who had to return to human form within two hours, your jiu-jitsu animal transformation is permanent and ever-evolving.

As you transition from white to blue belt, it's as if you're undergoing your own jiu-jitsu morph. Your once-awkward movements begin to flow with animal-like grace. Your awareness sharpens, akin to an eagle's keen vision. Your agility increases, reminiscent of a cat's nimble prowess. Your grip transforms, becoming as powerful and unshakeable as a gorilla's grasp. And you develop an understanding of pressure that rivals an elephant's unyielding weight.

Each technique you master, each roll you complete, adds another layer to your jiu-jitsu animal DNA. You're developing instinctual responses that reflect the efficiency and effectiveness we observe in nature. This metamorphosis goes beyond mere physical changes. Like the Animorphs tapping into animal instincts, you begin to develop an innate understanding of leverage, timing, spatial awareness, base, and posture that seems almost superhuman.

But there's another, more abstract way to think about the jiu-jitsu animal. Imagine jiu-jitsu as a vast herd of buffalo grazing peacefully in a field. These buffalo - the techniques, principles, and strategies of jiu-jitsu - are just there, existing, until we decide to engage with them.

Like a predator eyeing the herd, we approach jiu-jitsu with a mix of caution and determination. At first, the herd seems overwhelming, too large and powerful to tackle. But as we give chase, study, and practice, and give chase again, we begin to see patterns, weaknesses, opportunities.

Each time we successfully 'catch' a piece of jiu-jitsu - master a technique or understand a principle - it's like taking down one of those buffalo. It nourishes us, strengthens us, helps us grow. And just as each hunt makes a predator more skilled, each success in jiu-jitsu transforms us further into the jiu-jitsu animal.

But here's the thing: this 'herd' is infinite. No matter how much we learn, there's always more jiu-jitsu out there, grazing peacefully, waiting for us to pursue it. And with every pursuit, we evolve, becoming more adept, more instinctual, more in tune with the art.

This perspective shifts how we view our jiu-jitsu journey. We're not battling against a cunning opponent; rather, jiu-jitsu becomes a catalyst for our evolution. Just as prey shapes a predator's abilities over generations, jiu-jitsu molds us, drawing out our potential and honing our capabilities.

This 'prey' doesn't actively resist us, but its complexity and depth challenge us to grow, adapt, and innovate. Each technique we master, each principle we internalize, is like developing a new hunting strategy. We're not just learning moves; we're evolving our instincts, sharpening our awareness, and unlocking latent abilities we didn't know we possessed.

In this light, jiu-jitsu becomes a medium for self-expression and self-discovery. As we pursue it, we're not only becoming better grapplers; we're uncovering and refining aspects of ourselves. Our movements on the mat become a reflection of our growing understanding, our increased body awareness, and our evolving problem-solving skills.

This continuous engagement with jiu-jitsu pushes us to surpass our perceived limits, much like how the challenges of survival drive animals to develop extraordinary abilities. In essence, jiu-jitsu doesn't just teach us techniques; it provides the stimulus for us to become our most capable selves.

However, many people quit during this pursuit, allowing jiu-jitsu to outwit and outmaneuver them. They might see the 'herd' as too intimidating, the techniques too elusive, or the chase too exhausting. These individuals often assign an insurmountable difficulty to jiu-jitsu, believing themselves to be too weak, too insufficient, or too incapable of catching their prey.

In doing so, they allow the vastness of the jiu-jitsu herd to overwhelm them, forgetting that even the most skilled predator in nature started as an inexperienced hunter. In a sense, these people who are defeated by jiu-jitsu 'starve to death' - not because the prey is too swift, but because they've convinced themselves that the hunt is beyond their capabilities. They fail to see that their perceived limitations are often self-imposed, and that each failed hunt is an opportunity to refine their skills and instincts.

When people tell me they can't learn jiu-jitsu, I remind them: when you landed on this planet you couldn’t do anything. Now look at you. You have a brain, jiu-jitsu doesn't, use it. When you think about it, the idea of being outsmarted or defeated by jiu-jitsu is pretty absurd. It's a practice that exists for us to engage with it. It's not actively trying to beat us; we're the ones bringing it to life through our efforts.

The challenges you face on the mat are opportunities for growth, not insurmountable obstacles. Just as a lion doesn't see a zebra as an unconquerable foe, we shouldn't view jiu-jitsu as an insurmountable art.

I've always been fascinated by how animals in nature approach their tasks with unwavering confidence. They don't doubt their ability to succeed; they simply act on their instincts and experience. In the same way, as we develop our inner jiu-jitsu animal, we learn to approach challenges on the mat with this natural assurance.

Nature provides us with remarkable examples of this instinctual precision. Consider the flat-tooth orcas (a result of a late night Youtube binge), marine hunters that have specialized in catching sharks for their nutrient-rich livers. Using echolocation like an underwater ultrasound, these orcas can pinpoint a shark's liver with astonishing accuracy. They then employ a technique called tonic immobility, approaching at high speed, grabbing the shark's fin, and flipping it onto its back to immobilize it.

This level of technical precision in nature is both awe-inspiring and instructive. It raises an important question: If nature operates with such technical precision, why can't we? As humans, we have an incredible capacity for learning and adapting to physical challenges. While we may not be able to replicate every feat we observe in nature, we can certainly push our boundaries and achieve remarkable things through dedicated practice and training.

The transformation into the jiu-jitsu animal reveals a profound shift in our approach to the art. Consider how animals in nature operate: they don't think about whether they're capable of something – they simply know. A cheetah doesn't question its ability to sprint; it just runs. An eagle doesn't contemplate the mechanics of flight; it simply soars.

At white belt, we're still trapped in the human tendency to overthink. We question, we doubt, we analyze. Our focus is on understanding the techniques, trying to grasp the 'why' behind every move. It's a necessary stage, but it keeps us tethered to our human limitations.

But as we transition to blue belt, something remarkable happens. The constant questioning begins to fade, replaced by a more instinctual knowing. It's as if we're shedding our human skin and allowing our inner jiu-jitsu animal to emerge. Suddenly, techniques we've drilled countless times start to flow without conscious thought. We're no longer trying to do jiu-jitsu; we're simply doing it.

This is when the true power of the jiu-jitsu animal begins to manifest. We start to move with purpose and efficiency. Each roll becomes an opportunity not to think, but to act – to express our developing instincts on the mat.

The emergence of the jiu-jitsu animal is about transcending the limitations of human doubt and tapping into a more primal, more certain way of being. We're no longer trapped by questions of capability; we simply know what we can do, and we do it.

So perhaps the key to nurturing your inner jiu-jitsu animal is to cultivate this animal-like certainty. Train not just your body, but your instincts. Learn to trust in your abilities without question, to act without hesitation. After all, in the animal kingdom, there's no room for self-doubt when you're focused on survival and mastery of your domain.

As we progress in our jiu-jitsu journey, we're tapping into our innate potential as human beings. We're becoming more in tune with our bodies, developing a heightened awareness of movement and space, and honing our problem-solving skills in real-time physical interactions. This transformation into the jiu-jitsu animal is about more than just becoming a better grappler – it's about becoming a more complete, aware, and capable version of ourselves.

The blue belt stage, where this transformation begins to take hold, is a critical juncture. It's where the fundamental movements and concepts of jiu-jitsu start to become second nature, and where practitioners begin to develop their own unique style and approach to the art. This is the emergence of the jiu-jitsu animal – a being that moves with purpose, efficiency, and an innate understanding of leverage and positioning.

As instructors and practitioners, our goal should be to nurture this animal in ourselves and others. We should encourage the development of technical precision, adaptability, and a deep connection to our instinctual understanding of movement and combat. By doing so, we're not just creating better jiu-jitsu practitioners; we're helping to unlock the full potential of the human body and mind.

The concept of the jiu-jitsu animal reminds us that we are part of the natural world, capable of the same amazing feats of adaptation and specialization we see in other species. It challenges us to push beyond our perceived limitations and to approach our practice with the same determination and precision as a predator in the wild.

So the next time you step onto the mat, remember the jiu-jitsu animal within you. Embrace the process of transformation, hone your technical precision, and never underestimate your capacity to adapt and overcome. In doing so, you'll not only become a better practitioner but also a more complete expression of what it means to be human.