We fight with you because we love you!?

During his last visit our Brazilian professor urged our club to hold competition style fights at the end of classes. Maybe once or twice a week the senior belt was to indicate two players of similar weight and similar ability to fight. Coaches and a timer would also be designated. His rationale was twofold: first, at its core BJJ is fighting and if a practitioner didn't want to test her/his skills thus perhaps another art where such tests are avoidable would be preferred. At first brush, this seems a little harsh, no? Upon further reflection such perception avoids what sets BJJ apart from other martial arts - that it can be trained at very high intensity. Damian Maia recently remarked after a triangle choke victory over Chael Sonnen that his goal was to demonstrate through jiu jitsu how fights can be won without physically destroying your opponent (I'm paraphrasing). Maia is an unbelievable talent and his BJJ is remarkable. But, what about two white belts? Do they gain as much from a fight as a more casual roll? Does such an encounter expose their weaknesses? Or does it simply confirm what we already know - that white belts have much to work on? Does this situation differ for purple belts? Can they learn much about their technique, what "works",  and what doesn't? 

Or, are these questions not what's at stake here? Perhaps these fights expose something of the character of the player. Perhaps they lay bare something uncomfortable that we don't want to admit. Whatever the case, not everyone in the gym is equally agreeable about the efficacy of these bouts.

The second reason our professor maintains we should fight each other is "out of love". "We fight you because we love you", he argued. Again this will seem perverse to the outsider. Indeed, even those on the inside may object. Fighters, no matter of what background, need to be tested before they enter the ring or octagon or step on the mat for their first tournament match. Getting punched in the face for the first time is daunting and disagreeable (not that I know anyone who 'likes' to get punched, although some of the tough guys like to think so). No doubt, having such an experience for the first time when it counts could be disastrous. The same holds for someone squeezing a guillotine or armbar with the intention of breaking it. What are you going to do when you realize this is for keeps? 

This kind of fighting, according to the professor, makes us better competitors and people. Each seemingly intolerable experience exposes us to the limits of our psyche and demands that we push past them in to the vast seas of the previously unknown. How many times have you been at the wrong end of a ridiculously heavy s-mount or particularly tight kesa getame and thought that tapping would end the pain, but instead you propelled yourself forward to reverse the position? Such experiences are not cheap. They come at a cost to our comfortable being in the world and show us much about ourselves. More importantly, they ask that we explore the outer limits of our being. 

Is it love that pushes us? I'm not so convinced that it is love that acquaints us with this other self, but whatever 'it' is, I welcome these experiences for the insight into myself and my limits they yield.