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

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…

Relativity

The piste becomes a scale
At center, poised between “en guarde” and “fence”
A balance point
My opponent and I
Frozen in the moment when
All possibilities exist—offense, defense, feint and preparation
A place of ease and grace
Only pure awareness of what is
And what might be
A certain knowledge of what must be done

Of course we can’t leave well enough alone,
Passive in the prospect of an act,
Instead we slide the action forth or back
Time slurs
The moment shatters
Tumbles into instability

I push you to your line—
Perversely, I feel threatened
A wicked knot of fear expands
Stays my hand, delays my act
I know what should be done but cannot do
Paralyzed by seeing future states
Potential outcomes
Game, set, match

Pressed the other way—
I retreat, receding into history
Retracing histories of loss
Reliving how this has played out before
All too often ending with defeat

And so I battle towards the balance point
Where neither past nor future looms
Where possibilities expand
Where the bout is won, and lost
Both states being equally true
Until we look to see the outcome

Watch our foils—
Needles on a gauge of time and space and tension
Measuring potential in a span
Of 14 meters

Mirroring the world

In(ter)dependence

A solitary human—so such thing
We exist as nodes where interactions intersect
Friends, teachers, lovers, rivals, foes
By their proximity attract, repel
Change our valence
Sometimes intermesh
Become a fluid part of who we are

Independence is a myth
A fear of perturbation
Of interplay with forces that
Can shift our orbit
Disrupt our steady state
Collide and scatter particles illuminating
Our true identity

Trust your inner nature
Its gravity and mass
Are stable attributes
Encoding all the best of the real “I”
Trade the false strength of autonomy for
Adamantine weave of I and thou, he and she
You hazard what? The loss of fictive self, but gain the world…

A Quantum Theory of Fencing

First Theorem
I exist
In two conflicting states
Belief and unbelief
I see
Countless possibilities
And hard, unyielding truth
I hear
Everything you say
But know

Nothing of who you are

On some level, are we truly one?

Second Theorem
My opponent is entangled in my truth
Our patterned touches spangled on lames
I see his actions prior to his acts
My mind shapes exactly his attacks
(Spooky action at a fencing distance)
He marches, blade occupying everywhere at once
But in the end
All his possible attacks collapse to one
Exactly where my blade waits
Anticipating future states

I am here now; both beginning and the end

Third Theorem
Aware of all, focused on none
Balanced on the narrow edge
Forward and back
Future and past
Action and reaction
Curious and open to any end
Detached observer of the bout