Kaizen (改 善—Small Improvements)

Little steps, balanced forth
And back, keeping options open
Ready to explode

Feint and run away
Teasing you to push and charge
Hah! Counterattack

You can push, and push
Good! I pull distance, beat, deceive
Parry and riposte

You make touch against
Now I know what you will do
Here—try it again…

Incremental change
Subtle transformation, not
Metamorphosis

I can live with that--
Each instar a bit improved
It will be enough

Equanimity (Trade-offs)

In breaking free of suffering
Following defeat,
For rare and precious victories
Must joy mute too?

Achieving non-attachment
Would I misplace
The slightly batty dedication
Needed for success?

I’m just as happy not to be
Swept up in rage and self-reproach
Embarrassed by my petty fulminations
A mini-diva stomping on the strip

Accepting the results
My breath and body, instincts, mind and soul
Produce this day, this hour
Feels right, feels good
(Certainly more civilized)
And yet…

I fear acceptance morphed into complacency
     Lingering in bed on lazy mornings
     Skimping on the weights
     Staying home from practice, now and then
Worst of all, not fighting tooth and nail for every touch

So here’s the goal, ok?
     A happy discontent
     Passionate detachment
     Restless cessation
Dynamic tension, keeping me in play

It’s not so hard—just smile, bow, accept the baser metal
Hang it on the wall
A drishti—point of meditation—
Fueling the alchemical pursuit of gold

Stalling for Time (A Veteran's Wiles)

Excuse me sir, my
Shoe has come untied, may I
Kneel, and bind it up?

Hair! Hair in the face
Hair in the mouth (ptooie)
Thanks, it’s better now

Halt halt halt! Pardon…
The stupid grip is loose, you see?
(Fumble for the wrench)

Damn you’re full of pep
Pesky teenage energy
Hah—point in line! (Wheeze)

Только дышть (Prana)

Just breathe…
This universal panacea
Cools my temper
Rallies my banked fire
Balances my moods

Ragged inbreath
Stable exhalation
     Stitch together
Body and mind
Hand and blade

Currents and subcurrents swirl and surge
Unclog knotted channels
Sweep out random, tangled thoughts
Open up pathways of
Grace and concentration

Steadied by this insubstantial flow
     Wrist firms
     Gaze settles
     Heart calms
     Ego fades

Antagonists interlaced
In a dance of distance
This shared breath, molecular exchange
Our only intimate connection
Interweaving thoughts and aspirations

Inbreath, outbreath, inbreath
In between, the pause that brings time to a halt
Hollow to the core
Enveloping the world

A Night's Work

Drive home late, traffic lights on blink
Beckoning me through abandoned intersections
As if the road exists solely for me
(An open invitation for excessive speed)
Hot damp breeze dipping through the open roof
All my restless energy dispersed in sweat and laughter
Companionship and competition
The ego lulled by adrenaline, exhaustion
A touch of satisfaction
Memories of one well-balanced act
Taking of the proper moment
Arm and purpose firm, focused gaze
A joyous lunge with not one ounce held back

And now, for a few hours of the night, I have peace

Joy is Simple

Joy is simple
     A moment of unconscious grace
     A flash of humor
     Silent companionship
     A brief glimpse of perfection

Радость проста
     Момент не оссозноного изящества
     Вспышка юмора
     Тихие товарищеские отношения
     Краткий проблеск совершенствования

Variable Speed

One beat of fencing time
A maddeningly inconsistent measure
Determined by my pace
My pattern (and, perhaps, the pulsing of my heart)

Time shifts, dilates and drags
Compared to outer worlds
Here, within the lines of battle
Speed is relative

In large part we are warring for
Control of meter
Your vivacious marches flustering my blade
Raising my pulse, threatening to wear me out

I struggle to regain control
Regulate the terms of the engagement
Deploy my leisured actions to
Lull your response, entrain your speed

My coiled spring of energy unwinds
Marking the seconds, pressure building up inside
My hairspring trigger quivers on the brink
Explodes, collapsing distance, stops the clock

In the eddy formed by my disruption of
Time’s stream
I pause and focus, breath, relax
Reset my inner metronome

And we resume the tempo of our dance

Черная карта

I love to watch my coach in competition
(well, love and dread
Sometimes it’s both in equal measure)
After I bomb out
I find his pod and settle in to watch the
Opera, drama, Grand Guignol
Braiding my damp hair while
Waiting for the curtain’s rise

The first DEs are prelude
Overture, a preface to the show
Simple touches,
Economy of effort
Humor, joy, exhilaration
Shining through his actions
Very little hint of what’s to come

Climbing up the ladder
Always, there’s a point where
Things get tight
Storm clouds rumble in the wings
Foreshadowing the tumult that’s to come
Disturbing echoes of the past

Cue the tactically timed delays
To wipe the face
Adjust the mask
Straighten the blade…repeatedly
The ref would never let me get away with this
Somehow, he pulls it off, if only just

At last, the crunch
The score is close, the calls perhaps a little warped
And (hold on tight) the tempest breaks
The air is ionized with his intensity
Every atom vibrates, close to nuclear implosion
--Stomping back and forth
--Jamming his weapon’s tip into the floor
--“Requests” for explanation (with thinly veiled contempt
And indignation)

He’s awesome in his lack of inhibition
Truly a force of nature
(A fecund nature that brings hail, earthquake, wildfire, flood
And similar disasters
Oblivious to human cost)

Spectators shift and murmur
Distressed by this uncouth deviation from the script
Of civilized convention
His opponent’s contingent (teammates, relatives)
Cluck and disapprove
Try to parse his Slavic exclamations
Comment loudly for the ref to overhear
A harpy chorus chanting from the sides

He takes it to the edge
And frequently beyond
The bout becomes a 3-way contest
Coach, opponent, referee
A triangle of politics, emotion and (oh, right) athletic skill

It’s then, when tension ratchets to the max
I fix my gaze on the ref’s hand
Watch its every twitch and drift
In the direction of her
Blazer pocket
I hold my breath
Alert anticipation
Will the cards stay safely tucked
Inside, if not, which color will emerge?

But ready to skedaddle, fast
If things go wrong--
Not losing, necessarily
A clean touch
A clever act
All good enough, and worthy of respect
But if the timing’s off, a call that deviates from his conviction of
The proper application of the rules then
Watch out
Rage formerly contained within the strip
Bursts its bounds
Becomes a solar flare
That singes anything within its orbit

Now is a golden time to be elsewhere
Preferably innocent of how the bout played out
Who me? I was changing in the locker. What did I miss?

Obsession

It’s an addiction
I admit
To what…well, that’s a harder question

As Skinner boxes go, it would seem
Immensely inefficient
Random reinforcement
Few and far between
Occasional touches, sporadic runs of competence
A transitory flush of pride

Clearly I need only minor treats to fuel
This stubborn dedication
This (more than) slight imbalance
   - adrenaline
   - ambition
   - a little bit of pain
Enough frustration to make me hunger for another chance

This sport, this hobby, pastime, entertainment (!)
Pushes all my buttons
Taps my fundamental traits
Conviction that perfection can be reached, the only cost
Relentless dedication
A minor loosening of sanity
Nothing too extreme

Deep down, I’m wired to believe
That me, this I
Is able to succeed at anything I try
Despite the massive evidence that contradicts
And so I come back time and time again
Impelled by evolutionary forces to return
And face my limitations

Deep down, I secretly suspect that if
A miracle occurred and
Grace and speed, precision, clever strategy
Descended on my blade, settled in my limbs, that if
I suddenly swept all before me
Small, fierce, clever, brave
Unstoppable
This laser focus on my goal would blur, diffuse
And I would be released
Cage sprung, trial ended
Experiment complete

Failing that, about all I can hope for is
A balance of more treats than shocks in this research
On training of the soul
Excuse me while I push this lever one more time…

Vidya and Avidya

I see and do not see
     Your actions
Name them, sure, place neatly in taxonomies but
     Incapable of parsing what they mean

I know and do not know
     How to respond
Theory springs quite readily to mind…
     Half a beat too late

I think and do not think
     Not thinking is the best—
Actions flow unburdened by the mind
     More commonly, my bossy thoughts intrude

I am swept up in flow then pulled up short
     Caught upon my ego, snagged by doubts
Thoughts of self, second-guessing
     Searching for a way to dive back

I flip between these alternative states
     Cycling through unstable combinations
Seeking balance, settled orbit
     Vision, wisdom, spontaneity
Immersion in the now

But that is an illusion, yes?
     Stability’s stagnation by another name
These oscillations generate the power driving me through life
     And if they cease, then what? Disintegration, I suspect

Not that I’m likely to find out…