The other day at open mat, we decided to add soft slaps while we rolled to simulate what it might feel like in a Combat Jiu-Jitsu match. And honestly… it completely changed the way I look at Jiu-Jitsu. As someone who competes and trains strictly Jiu-Jitsu, I understand the self-defense concepts my professor teaches, but if I’m being real, I don’t spend my weekends getting into fights. It’s not something that crosses my mind much as a grown man living a pretty normal life. But once those slaps were added, everything changed. I realized how many positions I was comfortable in that would be absolutely terrible if my opponent could strike. That lazy posture in half guard? Not so great anymore. Hanging out underneath mount waiting for the perfect escape? Definitely not ideal. I started to understand things my professor has preached for years. A hard bridge from mount forces your opponent to post their hands instead of striking. When you’re working an underhook from half guard, keeping your head glued to their body isn’t just good technique it removes their striking distance entirely. Suddenly, every inch of space mattered. The experience didn’t make me want to fight. It made me appreciate the art even more. Jiu-Jitsu isn’t just about submissions. It’s about controlling distance, eliminating danger, and creating safety for yourself. If you’ve never tried it, I encourage you to give it a shot with someone you trust. Use soft slaps, glove taps, or even just air punches. You might be surprised how much it changes your perspective on your game. Have you ever trained with strikes involved? Did it change the way you view your Jiu-Jitsu?

A big part of jiu jitsu that I think is frequently neglected are the parts that take place off the mats. It’s the recovery, studying footage, and having a training journal.

Whats your biggest weakness in jiu jitsu? You could probably answer that without a thought. But, when was the last time you sought out that weakness for weeks at a time? I had to ask myself if his and was disappointed with my answers. Ive been training for a long time and I’m I small guy. Tap hands, pull guard, take the back, and work a sub. I’ve done it thousands of times and I’ve gotten good at it. But part of the reason I default to that is because I've avoided working takedowns. Recently some of my teammates have been pushing me to shoot more and I still shy away from it. And for what? My game is lopsided now, so I’ve given myself a challenge of not pulling guard for 30 days. It’s time to improve. Maybe it’s worth it to look at your own game and fix what you’ve fucked. See you on the mats!

Every roll starts as chaos. You’re standing across from another human being, and in that moment, an infinite number of futures exist. You could pull guard. He could shoot. You could jump a guillotine. He could counter. You could scramble, sweep, pass, submit or spend six minutes trapped underneath. Every possibility exists. Then something happens. A grip is taken. A collar is seized. A sleeve is controlled. A foot steps an inch too far. A hip turns the wrong way. And suddenly, the universe of possibilities collapses. In quantum physics, this is called wave collapse. Before observation, a particle exists as a wave of probabilities. Once measured, it settles into a single state. Jiu-jitsu feels the same way. The opening moments are uncertainty. Then reality arrives. The scary part is that most people think reality just happens to them. The best grapplers know better. They understand that every grip is an act of creation. Every frame says: “This is the reality I want.” Every underhook says: “We’re playing my game now.” Every scramble is a battle between competing futures. The black belt isn’t the person who knows the most moves. He’s the person who can collapse chaos into a reality that favors him over and over again. And maybe that’s true outside the gym too. Your life right now contains thousands of possibilities. The future isn’t fixed. It’s waiting on a decision. A habit. A commitment. A grip. The question isn’t what future is possible. The question is: Which one are you going to collapse into reality?

At practice the other day, my coach dropped one of those simple truths that hits different the longer you sit with it. He said: you need a destination when you roll. Not necessarily before you start. Not every round begins with some perfect, scripted plan. But once you’re in it… you better know where you’re trying to go. He used the GPS analogy. You can’t really use a GPS without entering a destination. You can turn it on, sure. It’ll show you roads, speed limits, turns, traffic, all that information. But it can’t lead you anywhere if you never told it where you’re going. You’re just driving. Burning gas. Moving… but not arriving. And that’s jiu-jitsu. Too many rolls turn into movement without meaning. Scrambles without direction. Survival without intention. Just reacting to whatever shows up like you’re letting the ocean decide where you land instead of steering the wave. But the ones who really level up fast, clean, consistent they’re not just rolling harder. They’re rolling toward something. Sometimes the destination is pre-loaded. Competition camp? You already know: take the back, stabilize, finish. That’s the address plugged in. Street scenario? Chaos hits, no warning, no warm-up, no “set game plan”… but the second it starts, your mind still has to lock in a destination: I get safe. I escape. I control. I finish. I survive. Even if the starting point is confusion… the destination gives the chaos structure. Without it, you’re just floating inside the roll. And here’s the part people miss: A destination doesn’t mean you ignore the road. The GPS still adjusts. Still reroutes. Still shows new options you didn’t see two seconds ago. Same on the mat. Your plan can shift mid-roll. Your path can change. You might start hunting the back and end up attacking an arm because that’s what the chaos gave you. But the difference is there’s still a why behind what you’re doing. You’re not just moving to move. You’re moving with direction. And honestly… a lot of training never teaches that.