As a child growing up in Wisconsin, some of my most fond memories took place on a lake up north.

Our family didn’t own a cabin or anything like that, but my parents always made it a point to get us kids out onto the water at least once or twice a summer.

We’d visit family friends, go for boat rides, tube, water ski, barbecue, and play games at night.

However, these were just the sides.

The main course was always fishing.

It would be 5:00 AM and my dad would quietly come into the kid’s bunk room and whisper to me, “It’s time to wake up.”

He’d be wide awake, have breakfast prepared, have all of our gear packed (for myself and any of the others that wanted to join), and be ready to get out onto the water before the morning sun warmed up the water.

I unfortunately did not share the same excitement that he did for fishing, but something about the process, preparation, and early morning ‘mission’ enticed me to join.

My dad’s identity has always been wrapped around fishing.

His career, interests, and other hobbies were all just white noise, in the midst of his true passion.

For him, fishing was life.

However, he didn’t compete in fishing tournaments, he didn’t outfit or guide private tours, nor did he film or document his adventures. Matter of fact, he didn’t get paid a dime to do it.

He did it, because he merely loved to catch fish.

As I entered into my adulthood, I stopped fishing.

While speaking with a close friend recently, I realized that my dad did literally everything for me. He baited the lures, outfitted me from head to toe, and basically just gave me the pole and showed me exactly what to do to be successful.

Today, it would be hard to even call myself a fisherman.

I don’t own a fishing pole, I haven’t casted a reel in years, and I don’t know if I have the knowledge or wherewithal to get up and go, even if I did.

Though I did not learn every technique and technicality about fishing from my dad, those days fishing were more than just bonding moments. They were classrooms of life lessons, many of which I now apply to my Jiu Jitsu practice.

Here are 3 lessons that I learned about Jiu Jitsu (and life) from fishing with my dad:

“Opportunity awards patience (composure)”

Success often requires a blend of patience and readiness. In Jiu Jitsu, as in fishing, the perfect moment doesn't always arrive instantly. However, if you stay composed, the likelihood for a golden opportunity increases. It was a lesson in staying composed, which often requires time and patience to materialize.

“Lure the fish in (strategy)''

While fishing, you need to bait the fish onto your hook. It won’t bite without something enticing for it to naw on. Within Jiu Jitsu you need to ‘offer a carrot’ to lure your opponent into a position where we can unleash our game plan. This translates to offering controlled openings to manipulate your opponent's movements, leading them into positions where we hold the advantage. This tactical maneuver isn’t merely about deception, but strategy. By making your adversary focus on a seemingly tempting target, you divert their attention from your true intentions. In the world of fishing, you don't just cast your line and hope for the best; nor can you expect that strategy to work in life. You need to create your own destiny with strategic and focused effort.

"Set the hook (precision)”

This is about timing the fish's reaction. Wait too long and they will get away with the bait; too soon and they will not have bitten it hard enough for the hook to go through. In Jiu Jitsu, timing is everything. Setting the hook underscores the importance of precision and awareness. Just like waiting for the fish to commit to the bait, in Jiu Jitsu, it's about waiting for the right moment, understanding an opponent's intentions, and capitalizing on their responses. The climax of our fishing expeditions was setting the hook. In life, the most pivotal moments are always based on our ability to act with steadfast precision when the opportunity arrives.

The last lesson, I alluded to earlier. And it’s not about fishing at all, but it’s about playing the game because you love to play the game. It’s about not letting the days of failure, or not catching a single fish, defer you from trying again tomorrow. It’s about not letting the money, status, judgment, or lack thereof, prevent you from continuing on.

Because the games that are worth playing are the games that you only lose when you stop playing them, when you quit.

Fishing.

Jiu Jitsu.

Relationships.

Health.

Self-mastery.

These are the games that only end when you stop playing them.

I realize that the wisdom imparted by my father transcends fishing; it's a philosophy that shapes the way I approach life.

Own the Process,

Tim

Author of Mastery Monday

Student & Founder