No Ordinary People

Gentle Human, the little curiosity on the corner that nobody ever notices, yet the right people always seem to find their way in.

Jiu-jitsu is a curious activity indeed—it offers a profoundly deep and transformative experience, yet with the wrong mindset, it can fall completely flat. I can imagine that, when people hear about it from some goggle-eyed practitioner or parent, it might seem almost mystical, as though they’ve stumbled onto a secret society or ancient ritual. For some who try, it might seem as inconsequential as a backyard game. For others, it becomes an experience so profound it changes their life forever.

It’s fascinating to see two students sitting side by side: one fully immersed, uncovering its beauty, and the other disconnected, missing the point entirely. Yet, I hold two core beliefs about everyone who steps through these doors: they are here through grace—an invisible kindness guiding them toward what they need—and, every single person is extraordinary, filled with soul and potential. My role as a coach is to help them uncover it.

Because of this, I don’t believe in accidents. Whether someone hears about the gym from a friend or drives by and thinks, I might like that, there is a deeper purpose at work. But that purpose is rarely what people think it is. People often believe they come here because they wrestled in high school and want to get active again, because they feel down and need a sense of community, or maybe because they want their child to learn self-defense. These are valid reasons, but most people are seeking something deeper—even if they don’t realize it. Those who aren’t ready for that journey often don’t stick around, not because they lack time or resources, but because jiu-jitsu demands more than many are willing to give.

What jiu-jitsu requires is self-denial. Contrary to belief, self-denial isn’t about rejecting all your desires; it’s about letting go of something of a lower nature to gain something of a higher nature.

In fact, self-denial is an appeal to your deepest desires—they are two sides of the same coin. Too often, we live as half-hearted creatures, clinging to superficiality instead of striving for what we truly need. Letting go isn’t just about sacrifice—it’s about creating space to reach for something better. For children, this means letting go of distractions and impatience to focus and find joy in their progress. For adults, it means releasing ego and preconceived limits to discover a deeper connection to their practice and unlock potential they may not yet see. To truly excel in jiu-jitsu, you must question whether you desire it deeply enough to embrace both the letting go and the reaching forward.

At the start, the journey often feels like a battle with your darker nature more than your higher self. Before you grapple with others, you must first grapple with your own pride, fear, and insecurity. Those who shy away from this battle often offer surface-level excuses: not enough time, not enough money, not enough energy. Parents can also be a barrier, wanting immediate results and not letting the art work its quiet magic on their children. Many of us know logically that something truly great can teach us more than we could come up with on our own—but putting this into practice takes faith. The belief in that unknown country outside of your comfort zone. Jiu-jitsu offers a map to that unknown country, but only for those willing to take the first step.

Faith is essential. This journey tempts us to seek comfort and familiarity. But mastery requires stepping into the unknown. Trusting it will lead somewhere greater than you imagined. Modern education often teaches us to ignore the quiet voice urging us toward this leap. But to grow, we must listen. We crave more for ourselves and our loved ones. Yet we often settle for the temporary and the safe, easily achieved things.

I understand this tension—I feel it myself. It’s hard to desire something when its ultimate outcome remains unseen. As a coach, I often present students with that unseen realm, which may dull their immediate enthusiasm. You mean I have to give up all my hard earned athleticism? You mean I have to focus and really learn what jiu-jitsu is? The answer is yes. And yet, in this process, you discover more about yourself and your jiu-jitsu than you could ever find on your own.

By pausing for a moment and setting aside your wants, you begin to uncover what you truly need. For my younger students, this is an early lesson: success doesn’t come from thinking only about yourself. For adults, it teaches humility—a willingness to put yourself aside long enough to observe how you impact your environment. When you do this, something remarkable happens. The ego dissolves, pride diminishes, and those nagging feelings of inadequacy begin to heal.

Where do you direct your attention? Toward others. Why? Because there are no ordinary people in jiu-jitsu. In a universe that often treats us as insignificant, many of us feel unseen. Some respond by striving to prove their worth at the expense of others, while others retreat, hiding their potential entirely. Both paths lead nowhere. The true beauty of jiu-jitsu lies in helping others—investing in their growth. We carry the weight of our training partners’ growth each day, just as they carry ours. It’s a burden only humility can bear. But in carrying this weight, in helping others grow, we find our own transformation.

To become a real and necessary ingredient in your gym’s culture is a responsibility few take on, but it is vital. In serving others, we find not only community but also mastery.

It is a serious thing to train in a gym full of potential black belts. That person you might dismiss as weak, or the child you don’t want your kid to train with because they seem “wimpy,” could one day become a force to be reckoned with. I’ve seen it happen countless times. Or, they might quit. Every day, in some measure, we help each other toward one of these two destinations.

While we celebrate the stages between white and black belt, in the deepest sense, these intermediary states don’t exist. The goal isn’t to create the world’s best white belt, but to guide every student toward their fullest potential. We must treat everyone as if their fully realized state has already been fulfilled. When we take every person seriously—without shallowness, superiority, or presumption—the entire gym transforms. Humility and patience become our only rational responses when we grasp what’s truly at stake in every training session.

Something extraordinary resides within every human. I believe that—and so should you. When we are mindful of this truth, we begin to see others—not as objects or obstacles, but as partners in growth. We become intolerant of ego, both our own and others’, choosing instead to train with charity and mutual respect. We encourage each other to persevere and persist, not only for their success but because we want to share in the rewards of joy and mastery together.

In this way, jiu-jitsu becomes more than a practice—it’s a shared journey. By lifting each other toward something greater, we transcend the superficial and uncover our own extraordinary potential.