Circle Square Triangle — Part II
"What the Hell is Water"
“There are these two young fish swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes “What the hell is water?” David Foster Wallace
Last Saturday, a student asked me, “Have you learned something from each of the many dojos you’ve trained at?” I said no. But I also told her how deeply appreciative I am of the hundreds of mats I’ve stepped onto. She paused and asked, “Why?” What came to me was this: A single, wide strand may look strong. But a braid made from hundreds of smaller strands is far stronger. Training at many dojos hasn’t given me hundreds of separate answers. It has given me something more valuable: a clearer view of my own assumptions. Each mat, each teacher, each partner quietly challenged what I thought I knew or assumed was true. Not always by replacing it, but by grounding it in experience. When you train under one teacher or within one organization for a long time, it’s easy to stop questioning what is being taught. The assumptions of the organization, the sensei, and the dojo begin to align so completely that there is no reason to question them. It becomes the water you’re swimming in. Stepping onto different mats doesn’t necessarily give you new truths. But it does make it harder to hold onto old ones too tightly. So the circle is the “us.” Always working toward turning the other into us. The square begins to take shape through this process. The strand becomes a braid. Each new mat helps reveal why I am training and what truly matters to me. For me, this shows up as lowering the volume of noise, trying to be as simple as possible. Training across many dojos doesn’t create confusion. It clarifies what remains when everything unnecessary falls away. And what remains—that is your structure. Which leaves the triangle. The triangle recognizes the reality of conflict. I might like the “us.” I might like my square, my assumptions. But if I do not understand the reality of the situation—if I do not practice what actually works—then none of those things matter.
What's air? You may not appreciate it until you aren't getting any of it. Think back on the loving relationships you may have had during your life. You may not have appreciated them until they're gone. Also, instruction from an excellent teacher, whether in school or at a dojo, may not have been appreciated until they are no longer a part of your life. What is wisdom? There are many definitions, but the one I favor is: The capability of appreciating what is valuable while it is still present. This applies even to a single strand of hair. Perhaps that is meant when we are told to Live In The Now. Or we may borrow from the Jewish tradition from the words of Rabbi Eliezer Ben Hyrcanus, most often referred to simply as Rabbi Eliezer who lived during the first and early second centuries CE. He is quoted as having said, "Live each day as though it were your last." His students asked, "Does a person know which day they will die?" He replied, "No! Therefore, remain in a perpetual state of teshuvah, a term whose meaning is often misunderstood. It means to live each moment with Integrity: Ensuring your actions and relationships are always in good standing, so you never leave behind unresolved conflicts or regrets; Intention: Treating every moment as a unique opportunity that will never reoccur; Prioritization: Cutting through "existential procrastination" to focus on what is truly important, such as family, learning, and kindness.
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