Say What I Mean, Mean What I Say

In HBO Max’s The Shop: Uninterrupted, NFL Quarterback GOAT (Greatest of All-Time) Tom Brady said, “I would say that 90% of the things I say is not what I’m thinking, which is challenging.” Tom said, “I try to play it super flat… I try to think a lot before I speak.” 44-year-old Tom has played for 21 years in the NFL. He’s been to 10 Super Bowls, won 7. Still, he’s playing the game to win his next one. Tom also speaks a truth.

At times, it’s so very challenging to be authentic. Like Tom, I want to say what I think, say what I mean, in talking with other people. Authentic self-expression is our birthright. Yet we don’t sacrifice our respect for others and their feelings. Only mad love and respect to them.

In Aikido, I practice joint locks and body throws with my partner. We throw each other solidly to the Aikido mat. That’s how we roll, literally. That’s how we make each other better, even greater. We can because we gave each other permission to do so. That’s the difference-maker.

Do I always have permission to say what I mean, mean what I say to others? No, not really. In looking through my Match dotcom profile recommendations, sometimes, a woman proudly says, “I tell it like it is…” Well, that’s fine. We don’t always have permission to tell it like it is (according to us). The world ain’t all about me or you. Just saying.

By design in Aikido, we throw each other around. At times we essentially beat the shit out of each other, albeit in a controlled construct. No fight. No contest. The training is about permission, mutual respect, and making the other person better, the greater version of themselves. That’s Aikido Founder O-Sensei’s higher purpose.

Many years ago, after I made Shodan (1^st degree black belt), I wore my hakama for the first time in Aikido class. The hakama is the black flowing skirt, kind of like Darth Vader’s pants. Just saying.

During the class, I was so in my head. I had to make sure that I was perfect, that I didn’t make a mistake. After class, the late Mizukami Sensei told me straight up, “You can either be an asshole or help out.” That was my come to Jesus moment. I got it. Sensei’s whole life was being of service, of helping others become the best versions of themselves. He had done so for me. Now, it was my turn to give something back.

Sensei said what he meant and meant what he said. That’s what I signed up for. I had given Sensei my permission. That being said, I chose to help out, be of service. Yeah, and be less of an asshole, too. Mizukami Sensei was the father who made me the greater man. Nothing but mad love and respect to Sensei. Rest in peace, Mizukami Sensei.

In the bigger picture, I try to be as authentic as I can be. For the most part, I say what I mean, mean what I say. Still, I have to make it work. Above all, I must be mindful of what it’s like to be the other person, get who they are. Do I have their permission to say what I mean, mean what I say? If yes, then it’s on. If not, I respect that as well.

My lesson from the late Mizukami Sensei, who was the humblest man I knew on Planet Earth: Give of yourself. Don’t be an asshole. I help out others in their individual journeys as much as I can. Sure, it’s up to them to put in the work, to just train. Still, I’m always mindful, respectful, and humble. In that bigger picture, I try to be a good man, a better person.

Yes, it’s important that I say what I mean, mean what I say. It’s far more important that I have compassion and humility. Sticks and stones can break our bones. But words can hurt way more. Just saying. Have compassion and kindness for others and for ourselves. In that way, we all become a little greater, too. Also, just saying.

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