I was bad at winning as a kid. I was ashamed of winning as a teenager. I was wary of winning as a young adult. The following decade, I lived in the shadow of those habits, handicapped by my own cowardice, never learning to win, too timid to realize why it even mattered.
The universe itself conspired for that to change. I had to face danger, not mortal but real enough to evoke sharp fear in me. I had to accept exile, even though it was once something I craved. I had to go through hardship and surpass challenges just to survive and get back to normal life. I am immensely grateful for the chain of events that led me to this moment. It has shaken me just enough. I haven’t just returned to some kind of normal life—I’ve got back my life.
For sure, the key to all that change was war. I used to contemplate war long before those fateful events took place. I used to contemplate it bushido-style, through the lens of Hagakure and The Book of Five Rings and The Art of War. Those are bright books but not without a flaw. They don’t pave everyone’s road to wisdom, that’s for sure. But they helped me withstand the losing mindset at least to some degree back when I was a youngster. And now, they have resurfaced in my life and helped me again. It is much easier to grasp their lessons now that I’m a full-blown adult man.
War. Horrible but inevitable. Just watching people fight in a war teaches you a lot. If you are bad at winning, or ashamed, or wary of it, in the face of death you will cast off your folly and strive for victory.
I haven’t fought in a war. I probably never will. Yet if I learned something in my life, I certainly learned one of its lessons. I am good at winning now. I am not ashamed of it. I am not even wary of the consequences. I win.