Consciousness and Competence

I started the martial arts formally when I was 6. In my 29 years of practice, I’ve developed proficiency in a little over a dozen arts and their derivatives. I’m highly proficient in about half of those. I’ve participated in all manner of sports and competed at a professional level in two and at an international player level in one. In the words of Brian Kilmeade, the Games Do Count because they teach us about living life and they force us to confront our biggest impediment- ourselves.

Through sports and martial arts, I’ve learned a great deal about triumph, failure and the importance of getting back on the bike. But I learned one lesson as a little boy from a martial arts instructor that I feel allowed me to gain high level proficiencies in all manner of activities from fighting to riding a motorcycle to learning a language to negotiating a business deal. What he said was quite simple. “You have to make things big before you can make them small.” I must have been 10 when he told me this. I was a precocious youngster and gifted in the arts but I had no idea what he meant then. It’s only recently that I’ve really come to understand the depth of his words and what they symbolized- patience, perseverance and faith in the method all to attain the goal of simplicity.

Basically, there are four levels of competence. They are:
1. Unconscious and Incompetent- You suck and you don’t know it.
2. Conscious and Incompetent- You suck and you know you suck.
3. Conscious and Competent- You’ve got the skill set and you know it.
4. Unconscious and Competent- You’ve got the skill set and don’t need to know it.

These categories aren’t stove-piped Cartesian distinctions. For them to be useful, you have to view them as they really are which is a methodology. For instance, you can’t get to level 3 without first achieving level 2. They are cumulative. There’s also no way to predict how much time you’ll spend at each level or at what level you’ll hit the ceiling of your natural ability. Far too many people are stuck at the first rung. And to those that make it to level 3, few realize there is a level 4.

High-level Japanese martial artists have a great analogy for levels of skill using the human body. At the first level, when an opponent strikes, you meet him with bone. The contact is hard and jarring. As you progress in skill, the opponent’s strikes are met with muscle, still hard but also pliable and able to yield to gain an advantage. At the next level, the opponent strikes blood or liquid. He has the vague feeling of hitting something but it is unsubstantial and the blows achieve nothing. Lastly his attack only finds air. You simply aren’t there anymore. The attack is irrelevant.

That last level is the one I’m interested in. It’s being in the Zone. It’s moving effortlessly but effectively through the world. I’ve only seen it a few times exhibited by a few people but this ineffable quality is instantly recognizable. It is powerful, subtle and sublime all at the same time. The great sword master Yagyu Munenori said in his book, The Sword and the Mind, “There is no beauty in anything forced.” How do we bring this quality of action into realm of intellect and ideas? How do we think and not be aware that we are thinking? Why does this even matter? Well, my self-conscious is the greatest hindrance to the proper execution of any physical action. When I’m able to lose “I”, my actions are always more effective and graceful. I can only suspect that this is true of my mind as well. I want to get past, observe and direct the voice in my head that says, “I”, not be directed and limited by it. Then perhaps my thoughts will exhibit the efficacy, power and grace my body is capable of. That can only be a good thing.