Chris Corrigan recently blogged about “goals in complexity,” ending with wondering how others are encountering “goals” in doing truly complex work. While I am not working in complexity in the same way he, or Dave Snowden whom he references, do, there were elements in the post that resonated with activities I do engage in.

This notion of the direction of travel is interesting to me in the practice of martial arts, for me Judo and Karate, but I think can be more broadly applied. On the sport side, goals are of course a staple, I have set out one for myself for the 2026 year even. But in a broader sense I see a parallel trapping idea come over people as they learn martial skills, perfection.

I’m often asked by kohai what the best way to do something is, and to quote one of my teachers I often echo, “well that depends.” It can be a frustrating answer for some, especially when the idea of the best way or the right way to do things is so pervasive. Even the modern structures of things like kata competitions suggest that perfection is achievable and should be the goal.

The concept of kaizen, continuous improvement (yes I get that is a grand distillation of the concept), is widely known because of its use in manufacturing, but I think it gets at this idea of direction of travel. Looking at performance in this way, there is no perfection because there is always room for improvement, some ways in which are invisible to use at the current moment.

That emphasizes a mindset that is open to continuing to grow and develop. Another quote, from an admittedly unusual source for this blogwall, comes from a character in the animated series Bleach,

(emphasis mine)

The first time I heard that quote I heard the words wash over me, but that statement about perfection being a state of hopelessness hit hard. I listened to the clip a few times, hitting the rewind button again and again. It touches on a feeling you come to have if you practice kata, or other techniques over and over again. Consider what you’re chasing. Is it perfection? Is that actually stopping you from improving? What would you be capable of if you let that go?

Chris goes on to quote Dave Snowden at length about coming into a situation with a model or goal and imposing that, rather than first observing the context,

Reading the whole passage would help understand where I’m going a bit more, so head over there if you have the time. What resonates for me here is looking for the adjacent possible, and recognizing and responding to what’s happening. This fits so well with bunkai, or analysis of kata (more so with karate Kata, although some Judo katas have this as well) where you have responses available based on a situation or reaction. Rather than how kata is often describes of A > B > C, linear, sequential, concrete, many of the formations are more in the form A then B OR C. For example, in the Pinan kata in Karate, there are often seemingly repeated movements with a small adjustment. One movement might be a bit longer in form and the second a bit shorter. This communicates that if your opponent ends up closer do C, if farther away do B. You should not predetermine your exact actions, but instead respond to the situation.

In Katame No Kata, the entire structure of the first set of techniques is built around if you perform this holding technique, uke may respond this way, or this way, or this way. There is a response tori can use for each. It does not mean uke will do all three, or in that order. Tori must observe and feel the situation and respond.

This of course is an idea made famous by philosopher, Bruce Lee,

These are just a few related resonances that came to mind reading the piece. If you work directly in complexity, go check out the original post.

Photo by manu schwendener on Unsplash