I left Aikido class the other night exhausted, fearful, and elated. As I walked off the mat exhausted from an intense class, I came to the realization that I had to learn Aikido all over again. This is when the fear kicked in.”What? After almost 20 years of training, I have to learn all this over again?” I thought. “But I’m a nidan (2nd degree black belt)! I should know this already!” I thought in protest. The class had been challenging. Techniques I had practiced for years no longer worked the way they use to. I was having difficulty taking my opponents balance. The most basic techniques just didn’t flow. I felt clumsy, incompetent, and stupid. “What’s happening? Why isn’t this working? I’ve done this a million times!” I thought.
In Zen buddhism there is a concept called, “satori”. Loosely translated, satori is an awakening, or a comprehension of the true nature of things. This was my satori moment. I realized that what got me this far was not going to get me to the next level. I had to abandon what I thought I knew in order to advance my skill and understanding. My attachment to my rank, accomplishments and assumptions was stunting my growth. I looked down at the black belt tied to my waist and felt disgusted. “Am I really worthy of this rank?” I asked myself.
Japanese character for "satori"
After the fear subsided, elation kicked in. I realized that I had reached a turning point. My sensei always emphasized that rank was not important. The black belt around my waist just help up my pants; nothing more. But in that moment, I finally understood him. This is one of the potential pitfalls on the journey of self-mastery. Sensei knew the inherent trappings that come with rank, certificates, belts, trophies, and other material validations. Like Ulysses and his men who braved the sirens’ song, accomplishments sing your praises, lull you into complacency, and seduce you into believing your own myth. But like brave Ulysses, you can resist their temptations. Doing so requires the disciplines of mindfulness and self-awareness (see, “About Self-Mastery”).
"Ulysses and the Sirens" by Herbert James Draper
There is nothing inherently wrong with achievements. After all, its what drives us to excel and be our best. Often, our very livelihoods depend upon our degrees, titles, and acronyms we put behind our name. We may choose to go back to school to get a masters degree so that we can earn more money. We train for certificates to increase our credibility and standing amongst our peers. These are all well and good reasons. The danger lies in believing that the black belt, MBA, or title is the prize that entitles you to stop learning and growing. “Now that I’m a CEO, I’ve arrived!” is the thought that will halt your progress and stop you dead in your tracks on the road to self-mastery. Resist this temptation. When you reach a milestone, acknowledge it, celebrate it, and then forget it!
By abandoning your accomplishments, I’m not suggesting that you abandon the knowledge and experience you’ve worked so hard for. I’m suggesting that you abandon the baggage that comes along with them- the inflated ego, the complacency, the self-entitlement, the assumptions. These are the near enemies of achievement. If left unchecked, they can erode your accomplishments. True masters never consider themselves as such. They know that there is always more to learn and discover. Their hunger for growth propels them forward and gives them the appearance of a master to the rest of us. We stop and marvel at their accomplishments. But they never stop. They maintain a beginner’s mind- one that is continuously learning, questioning and open.
“In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert’s mind there are few.”
I returned to the dojo a few days later with a renewed enthusiasm to train. Once I mentally relinquished my rank and tenure, I felt lighter and less burdened by the self-absorbed baggage that had been weighing me down. Memories of my first years as a rank beginner made me smile. I observed what was being taught with a new pair of eyes. The same old techniques looked fresh. Like a tourist in a new city, I soaked it all in as if I had never seen it before. That sense of wonder came back. Ironically, my techniques improved and that feeling of flow returned. I had resisted the siren’s song of accomplishment. I can still hear it faintly in the distance, but it has lost its power over me. I am free to be a beginner again- take risks, make mistakes, look stupid, and grow. When will you loosen your grip on that award or degree? What great accomplishments are holding you back?