Imagine picking up a book like Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra at random, flipping through its pages, and thinking, ‘Hey, this might actually help me understand why I keep getting smashed on the mats in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.’ It’s not the most obvious choice—Nietzsche, the 19th-century philosopher with his intense, poetic style—but here we are, repurposing his thoughts to navigate the mental, emotional, and philosophical grind of BJJ training. Let’s have some fun with it.
The Camel: Embrace the Grind
First up, we meet the camel, the humble beast of burden. The camel in Nietzsche’s philosophy loves to carry heavy loads and do what it’s told. It’s the phase of life where we just accept everything—responsibilities, rules, traditions—without question. Sounds familiar, right? Picture a BJJ white belt drilling armbars for the hundredth time or sweating through shrimping drills while obediently nodding to the coach. The camel is all about embracing the grind.
But here’s the playful twist: according to Lisa Feldman Barrett’s ‘How Emotions Are Made’, even feelings of pride or determination are constructed. The camel isn’t born loving hard work; it learns to feel pride from those grueling training sessions because everyone around it values discipline and resilience. In BJJ, the camel learns to “feel good” about the struggle, even when it kind of sucks. And hey, that’s an important part of the journey.
The Lion: Rebel with (Hopefully) a Cause
Enter the lion, roaring into the scene, all swagger and rebellion. The lion wants to break free from the past, challenging everything the camel so dutifully accepted. In BJJ terms, this is the student who starts questioning techniques, maybe side-eyeing the fundamentals because they’ve got their sights on developing their own game. They’re tired of following every rule and ready to roll differently, maybe a little wild and experimental.
But here’s where it gets fun—and tricky. If the camel tries to pretend it’s a lion without having built genuine strength, it’s like a white belt trying to pull off flashy moves without having mastered the basics. The rebellion falls flat, and frustration kicks in. Barrett’s construction theory would say that the emotions of empowerment and independence the lion feels aren’t spontaneous; they’re constructed from actual progress and self-awareness. So, if the lion is faking it? The emotional payoff just isn’t there. It’s like a house of cards built on ego and bravado, ready to tumble.
The Child: Playtime and Mastery
And finally, we get to the child, the free spirit, the phase of creativity and play. In BJJ, this is when you’ve put in the work, rebelled a bit, and now find yourself moving with fluidity and spontaneity. The child loves to play, to try new things, to flow without worrying about rules. It’s where you reach that magical state of rolling just for the joy of it.
According to Nietzsche, the child is the ultimate stage of self-overcoming, where you no longer feel the weight of the camel or the need to roar like the lion. Instead, you’ve internalised both discipline and independence, and you’re free to create. Barrett would say that the joy of this phase is also constructed—built from years of experience, repetition, and emotional growth. You’ve created a new emotional landscape for yourself on the mats, one filled with wonder and exploration.
When Archetypes Get Messed Up: The Camel Pretending to Be a Lion
So what happens if someone tries to skip ahead? If a camel—still burdened with the weight of duty—pretends to be a lion, things get messy. Imagine a beginner who wants to rebel but hasn’t really put in the work. They try to dominate their rolls with force or fancy techniques, but without the lion’s true strength or the child’s playful mastery. It’s a recipe for frustration. Nietzsche would roll his eyes and say, “Be patient, little camel. Your time will come.”
A Playful Path to Growth
Ultimately, this playful dive into Nietzsche and BJJ reveals that personal growth is like progressing through these archetypes. You start as the camel, embrace the lion, and hopefully, one day, reach the child’s playful mastery. Along the way, emotions are constructed, challenged, and reshaped, just like your game on the mats. And maybe, just maybe, Nietzsche’s philosophy can help you make sense of the sweat, struggle, and occasional moments of joy that come with rolling.
So, next time you feel like rebelling against another round of drilling, or you find yourself lost in the pure joy of a creative roll, think back to Nietzsche. You might smile at the thought of using philosophy to navigate BJJ—and that’s part of the fun.
References
– Nietzsche, F. (1883). Thus Spoke Zarathustra.- Barrett, L. F. (2017). How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
