Those of us who train seriously in the martial arts have a variety of reasons for why we train. Self-defense. Physical fitness. Love of a cultural art. Competition. Social activity. Personal spiritual development. Just because it's fun. The list of possibilities is long and an individual practitioner will likely have a mix of motivations which will shift in importance over the years.
One motivation which doesn't seem to be discussed much is the drive for "mastery" - the desire to be really good at something. I think that for many (most? all?) people, there is a natural desire to be genuinely, undeniably, really good at something. Maybe it's playing guitar. Maybe it's Judo. Maybe it's fixing computers. Maybe it's baking a cake. Maybe it's gardening. Maybe it's juggling. Heck, maybe it's competitive cup stacking. Not everybody puts in the work to achieve this goal, but I think the desire is there.
There's probably some evolutionary psychology theory out there about why this should be so. I tend to steer clear of most evo psych because it can easily become untestable theorizing which ends up supporting the theorizer's prior assumptions about human nature. All I know is that when I drag myself in to the dojo for some particularly grueling training session on a day when I really felt more like staying home and playing video games, a significant portion of my motivation is the fact that I want to become better at my art than I currently am. It's not that I am particularly worried about being assaulted and needing that extra bit of training in order to defend myself. It's not that I want to win a trophy. It's not that I think I'm in bad physical shape and desperately need the exercise. I just want to get better at what I do. At the same time, I take a certain satisfaction in the skill and knowledge I've already achieved, even though I'm not content to stop with what I have.
I strongly suspect I'm not the only person this applies to.
There is another, related drive. It's the desire to be recognized by others as being really good at something. This isn't inherently a bad thing. We're social animals, and as much as we might like to pretend otherwise we are affected by the opinions of others. There is a certain satisfaction in being recognized for the work we have put in and the results we have accomplished.
Unfortunately, there is a danger that the desire for recognition as being good at something can interfere with the process of actually becoming good at that thing. There are many ways that can happen for a martial artist. We could avoid sparring sessions with those who might beat us (especially if they are lower ranked). We could avoid sparring on days when we feel under our physical peak, so as to not look bad. We could avoid any sort of training exercise where we might "fail" and look bad. We could avoid listening to and learning from students we think are beneath us. We could avoid admitting that we don't understand a certain topic within the arts as well as we think we should. We could break away from our teacher and promote ourselves to a fancy high rank. We could stay with our teacher and organization because we have a fancy high rank in that context and avoid starting over as a beginner somewhere else. The possibilities are endless.
I think it's fine to admit to ourselves that we like that little ego boost, that pat on the back when a teacher or a student or one of our peers says "Hey, you're really improving" or "You're really good at that" or "You really know what you're talking about." We just need to be careful that we don't let the desire for that positive reinforcement get in the way of our real goals.
One motivation which doesn't seem to be discussed much is the drive for "mastery" - the desire to be really good at something. I think that for many (most? all?) people, there is a natural desire to be genuinely, undeniably, really good at something. Maybe it's playing guitar. Maybe it's Judo. Maybe it's fixing computers. Maybe it's baking a cake. Maybe it's gardening. Maybe it's juggling. Heck, maybe it's competitive cup stacking. Not everybody puts in the work to achieve this goal, but I think the desire is there.
There's probably some evolutionary psychology theory out there about why this should be so. I tend to steer clear of most evo psych because it can easily become untestable theorizing which ends up supporting the theorizer's prior assumptions about human nature. All I know is that when I drag myself in to the dojo for some particularly grueling training session on a day when I really felt more like staying home and playing video games, a significant portion of my motivation is the fact that I want to become better at my art than I currently am. It's not that I am particularly worried about being assaulted and needing that extra bit of training in order to defend myself. It's not that I want to win a trophy. It's not that I think I'm in bad physical shape and desperately need the exercise. I just want to get better at what I do. At the same time, I take a certain satisfaction in the skill and knowledge I've already achieved, even though I'm not content to stop with what I have.
I strongly suspect I'm not the only person this applies to.
There is another, related drive. It's the desire to be recognized by others as being really good at something. This isn't inherently a bad thing. We're social animals, and as much as we might like to pretend otherwise we are affected by the opinions of others. There is a certain satisfaction in being recognized for the work we have put in and the results we have accomplished.
Unfortunately, there is a danger that the desire for recognition as being good at something can interfere with the process of actually becoming good at that thing. There are many ways that can happen for a martial artist. We could avoid sparring sessions with those who might beat us (especially if they are lower ranked). We could avoid sparring on days when we feel under our physical peak, so as to not look bad. We could avoid any sort of training exercise where we might "fail" and look bad. We could avoid listening to and learning from students we think are beneath us. We could avoid admitting that we don't understand a certain topic within the arts as well as we think we should. We could break away from our teacher and promote ourselves to a fancy high rank. We could stay with our teacher and organization because we have a fancy high rank in that context and avoid starting over as a beginner somewhere else. The possibilities are endless.
I think it's fine to admit to ourselves that we like that little ego boost, that pat on the back when a teacher or a student or one of our peers says "Hey, you're really improving" or "You're really good at that" or "You really know what you're talking about." We just need to be careful that we don't let the desire for that positive reinforcement get in the way of our real goals.