What are your options?
Multi-dimensional chess with blades can teach you how to live your everyday life.
As the knife comes at me I thrust my arm forward, veering the attack off course. I step in and create an armbar against my ribcage. My body tips my instructor's 190 lbs just slightly off balance.
At almost double my weight, moving him around will never be about using muscle or trying hard, it has to be done by getting my feet in the right place so the 105 lbs I do have will be at all effective.
After a few moves and counter-moves, the original technique we are practicing starts to break down. I stare at the dizzying tangle of limbs, trying to assess where the next attack might come from or how to gain an advantage in whatever position we find ourselves in.
"What are your options?" my instructor asks me as I try to find an opening. He gives me a moment to see what I can do that will be the most devastating in the least amount of time.
Some might say to trust your intuition — but I'll tell you right now that my intuition is garbage. It's mostly just a mess of raw programming that hasn't been refined yet. But that's why we are refining it now.
"How's this?" I ask as I simulate a wrist cut. "WHY?!" He yells, "You totally had a neck shot!" He grabs my hand and throws it into his own neck.
"Damn." I laugh. "I couldn't see it."
We start over. The situation is subtly different. I have to find my options all over again and hope that the previous lessons have imparted some physical understanding that my body can translate into survival.
It's a multi-dimensional game of chess. There is little else I can think of that is as mind-melting as trying to understand the concepts behind knife work.
But life too is like a game of chess. And it has even more dimensions than defending against a simple knife attack. It is more prolonged. The unknowns are infinite. It can hardly even be called a game.
Having left the shelter of the workforce almost a decade ago, I've lost the protection of biweekly paychecks, a 401k, and work-provided healthcare. Everything I need now has to be generated on my own. Every day is a new game of chess, and thanks to a seemingly ridiculous exercise I do with a man in his mid-50s and a couple of training knives, I think I'm getting better at seeing my everyday options.
Earlier this year, my brain was exploding with information overload. Having uncovered more career paths than I could possibly go down, I was stuck in a classic case of analysis paralysis. Which path do I take? What am I most passionate about? What do I really want?
But I know better than anyone that my passions are subject to change. How can I know what I really want for the rest of my life?
I can have some vague ideas, yes. But I can't dictate how I'll live my life based on my self-perception right now and my understanding of life right now.
So I fell back on my knife training.
When the confusion settled down, I asked myself, "What are my options?"
And finally, I saw my next move.
To tell you the truth, I can't see very far beyond it. But that's the nature of complex situations. In chess or in a dual, you might be able to predict a certain number of moves ahead, but in life, it's infinitely more difficult. You have to learn how to see your opportunities as they arise and act without tangible evidence of what will happen next.
It's scary. It's mind-bending. It's the hardest problem you'll ever solve.
But there's no other choice.
So, from time to time, pause and ask yourself:
"What are your options?"
And find the most effective way forward.
I was just thinking "where's Leslie's newsletter?!" on Friday, and this arrived right on time! Poignant and relatable piece as ever! Now I really need to sign up to knife-throwing and combat training (what's the actual name of the training you described?). Good workout and good life lessons combined!