Flowing with the Go by Elena Stowell Page B

Whoever is going first (usually the person with the higher rank) makes only one move. One move means grabbing their left sleeve with your right hand, putting one foot on the mat, or shifting your right hip to the left. One move does not mean executing a technique in its entirety.
    This drill accomplishes many things. It forces you to plan several steps ahead. It forces you to counter your opponent’s move while formulating your own attack. And your opponent is, likewise, planning to counter your move. You can only be successful at this drill by consciously and skillfully executing the “go” and not falling into the traps of your habitual moves. I have trouble with this drill because I am not yet skillful enough to plan many steps in advance. I also have trouble because I become more focused on what I am planning than on what is happening at present. And I have many habits that do not always advance my position. This drill gives me anxiety. There is too much time to worry that I have made, or am going to make, the wrong move. And there are no take-backs.
    My expenditure of emotional energy on things I have done wrong is much greater than the energy I use to recognize things I have done right. The isolation of moves in the chess drill provides an opportunity to practice being more compassionate to myself. If you were observing this drill, you would likely see two types of people. There are the people who make a move and radiate confidence. These are the people who have already embarked on a path to victory in their own minds. And there is the other group—the group that moves a foot and immediately sighs or rolls their eyes or says, “dang it,” because they already believe that they have embarked on a futile path. Like a physical habit and its muscle memory, this behavior reinforces negative mental habits or neural memory. Negative habits include thoughts of self-depreciation that lead us to give up on ourselves. These are the negative habits that keep us fighting discomfort and uncertainty instead of learning to live with those feelings and discover who we can fully be.
    There is a great deal of physical discomfort in Jiu-Jitsu. It’s obvious to most people that having an arm hyperextended, a shoulder locked, or a neck squeezed between the back of someone’s shin and thigh can cause discomfort. What might not be so obvious is the mental discomfort. When I first started training, I would tap at the slightest sensation of physical discomfort, and I would tap if I believed I was going to experience a slight sensation of discomfort. I would panic if my arms got pinned in positions that made me feel vulnerable, although it didn’t hurt. I would also panic in certain positions that made me feel claustrophobic.
    Much of the mental discomfort I experienced from grief felt a lot like the mental discomfort of Jiu-Jitsu. Nervous, anxious, claustrophobic, insecure, vulnerable. I was a beginning griever just like I was a beginner BJJ practitioner. I had to practice being in uncomfortable positions. Just like it is easier to tap than to battle, it was easier to avoid dealing with thoughts that made me sad and turn to unproductive behaviors. Combating discomfort in Jiu-Jitsu is dealt with head-on. If you hate being trapped in side control, then Coach has you start each sparring session trapped in side control. If we are learning an escape, Coach has us practice it from “worst case scenario” position. This usually means that your opponent has control of your head and a dominant starting point. When I was training to compete and was uncomfortable scrambling to position, I had to start all my sessions lying on my belly instead of starting on my knees, forcing me to quickly scramble to an advantageous position.
    Over time I found that I could stay in an uncomfortable situation longer and longer and not panic. With practice, I learned to not be so afraid and to relax into the position and defend