I’d like to draw a distinction between struggling and suffering.
Whenever you learn something new, there’s going to be a a struggle. Sometimes a little bit, sometimes a lot.
Take learning to tie your shoe laces as an example. Remember that? Remember how many times you tried, and messed up, before you finally got it. And now, years later, you hardly remember the difficulty. You probably just remember it as ”part of growing up.”
For a new student, learning aikido is something like that. Except, instead of one new body movement pattern, there are seemingly hundreds. And everyone of them with a different name! No wonder we struggle.
But this struggle is good. It’s part of the learning process. It’s to be expected and honored. And it is different from suffering.
Suffering is experiencing anguish. Pain. Emotional or physical. Suffering calls for alleviation.
Humans can witness each others struggle and find mutual respect in the process, knowing that at the end of the struggle is a clearly won personal achievement.
When humans witness suffering, however, the baseline response is to reach out and help alleviate or mitigate the hardship. This is our natural empathetic response.
On the mat, when one is learning aikido, there is struggle. There’s suppose to be struggle. But rarely do I experience those people who are struggling as also suffering.
Sometimes, yes. You do hear someone giving themselves a hard time. ”I’ll never get this”. ”I’m a slow learner.” ”I did it wrong again.” That sort of thing. Certainly, in those instances it may be helpful of offer a word of encouragement and a reminder about how, yes, you, too, struggled to familiarize yourself with this particular movement. Let them know that, yes, they are on the bell curve, and somewhere near the middle and not, as they imagine, way out on the edge.
Now, remember the learing-to-tie-your-shoe example a few paragraphs back? Of course, you do. Now, however let’s put ourselves not in the role of learning, but in the role of witnessing. Let’s imagine we’re the parent, or the teacher, or the friend who is helping and witnessing the process.
The question then becomes, not whether to help, but how to help, and when. Too soon, and you risk robbing the person of the satisfaction of figuring it out for themselves. Too late, and you risk them heading into the realm of possible suffering.
And, let’s add the element of age and experience. So now we’re not talking about kids, where every day is a day of major learning and potential struggle. We’re talking about adults. Competent adults. Self-reliant adults. Adults with fully developed, and defended, egos.
Adults where, if you say something to help them, it could make them feel even stupider. Or, if you don’t say something to help them, it could make them feel even stupider.
Add to this the factor of ”unsolicited advice”. Helping someone who has not asked for any help. Do they actually need help and either don’t know how to ask or know how to ask, but, for some reason, don’t.
So there you are, having just completed your four repetitions of the movement and you’re watching your partner struggle. What do you do?
First, let’s remember the difference between struggling and suffering. Are they struggling, or suffering?
If they’re struggling, should you help them immediately or give them some additional time to figure it out?
This is where it gets really interesting for me. And especially for me as the Chief Instructor who witnesses this process daily between training partners.
Here’s my take on it. In the context of struggling and suffering. The learner is struggling and their partner, the witness, is often suffering.
They’re just dying to say something, to do something, to help. To do ANYTHING that will help to alleviate their partner’s suffering.
But wait, your partner isn’t suffering. They’re struggling. You’re the one who’s suffering. And you’re suffering because your partner is struggling. Stop it. Stop suffering. Relax. Wait. Watch. The answer is right before your eyes. Be patient.
And while you’re being patient, think about this: There are generally two reasons why someone breaks the silence so necessary for good training. To help and to show off.
Are you breaking the silence to offer assistance or are you just letting them know how much you know? Think about it. This is not an easy question. Especially if you have an ego. And who doesn’t have an ego?
Have they asked for help? Have you slowed down? Have you started the technique from the beginning? Have you just waited in place for a moment?
If they haven’t asked for help, maybe you shouldn’t give any. I know you want to help, but your help may not be helpful right now. What helped you in a similar situation may be just the opposite of what is needed now. Maybe a question may be more helpful than a statement or your well-intentioned suggestion.
I’m not saying this process is easy. Nor am I saying there is a formula. But what I am saying is that there is a relationship. A relationship between you and your training partner. And that relationship needs to be respected and preserved.
You are not teacher-student. You are student-student. You’re more like siblings rather than parent and child. And, of you had siblings, you know the difference in your reactions and responses between when your parents tell you to do something and when a sibling tells you to do something. It’s the difference between ”Yes. Thank you. Right away.” and ”Buzz off. Get out of my face, you idiot.” This is the memory energy that you’re tapping into. A potential minefield.
Most students are open to having the ”teacher” come around and make suggestions. But not every student wants every other student constantly telling the what to do. It’s tedious. And it’s often counter productive. It may even drive some people away.
Your job is to train. That’s what you’re on the mat to do. Along with all those other people you bow in to. It’s the teacher’s job to teach.
Certainly, if you can be helpful, it may be helpful to help. But don’t assume just because you know the answer or think you know what someone else needs that you’re being helpful. You may just be getting in the way of the most natural thing there is. Learning.
Humans are hard-wired for mastery.
