Waiting Game

My half unfocused gaze
Rests lightly on your chest
My only task to breathe, relax and wait
While wrapping your attention in my
Dance of back and forth, of glide and bounce

There is no deadline to be met
No urgency to force the meeting of our blades
This is a challenge match of patience
A race to be the last to launch an act
In which the victor revels in defense
The vanquished victim to his own attack

In a world of options without end
Success dwells in narrowing the choice
One road is to dominate and seize control
The other, softer path to wait with open mind
Gently cultivating space that shapes opponents’ acts
Catch whatever comes and bend it to your will

The lesson taught?
Do only that which must be done

Morning After

Bag of dirty clothes
A medal in my pocket
Warmth of parting hugs

Training to Failure

A simple theory
Stress the muscles ‘til they ache, twinge, quiver, shake, protest
Can do no more
And this abuse provokes a blossoming of strength
As bundled fibers swell, group, stretch, expand
Adapting to a world in which they fail

All well and good, and tested to the max

But you apply this theory to my mind
Demanding skill and speed my intuition lacks
Dangling success one step beyond what I can do
And snatch away no matter how I try
Will it work, or does it just excoriate the soul?
The pain is real, and I can only hope
The growth is, too

Meanwhile, can you provide an icepack for my pride?

Vi Saludo

These lady warriors
So brave
To face our aging bodies,
Fears and limitations

Each day a battle with
Breath, bruise, muscle, bone
Testing boundaries that seem
Daily to constrict

We with apprehension watch
The intersecting arc of our improvement
With waning balance, suppleness and speed
Time’s triumph is secure

This arm, that yesterday was strong
Today is weak and hesitant
This ankle, merely tweaked
A fortnight later still protests

In daily work we are so
Arrogant, so proud, assured
Of our superiority of mind
Our nimble words

But on the strip
Are humbled by uncompromising
Clash of truth and expectations
Yet we persist with stubbornness and will

We have a few advantages with age
Relying more on cunning and on guile
Some small wisdom guides our path
And hardens our intent

Bravery is facing what you fear
Forging on with passion and with joy
Each of us has won a battle with ourselves
Through pain, through tears and fierce frustration

As we meet our edge, we pause and ask for grace
And push on through
Finding moments of perfection
Moments are enough

We each do what we can
Vi saludo

Awakening

The master’s stick can lean unused
Against the wall
A quiet warning

Your silent laughter and your smile
Break through my false conceptions
More forcefully than any blow

***

Teaching is finding what is good,
Coaxing it forth,
Burning off the rest

I barely tolerate the heat
Like bare hand near open flame
My instinct is to pull away

Learning is an exercise in trust
I walk the fire
Trusting your intent

Begin Again

Starting with the bag
Each necessary object
Tucked in its own place

Socks, shoes, knickers, cord
Glove, cups, jacket, sleeve, lamé
Foils in their sheaths

Bombing down the road
Music blasting, joy unleashed
Anticipation

Tackling the stairs
Pulse springs at muted clash of
Coruscating blades

Who am I tonight?
Bold, clever, swift? More often
Hesitant and scared

Either one affords
A priceless chance to practice
Seeking for myself

Wandering with wise,
Strong, generous companions
Satisfied at heart

Afterwards, descent
Walking into clear dark night
Stars shine, unimpressed

This is what I have
A blank page, a lifting heart
And best, a fresh start

No Win

I fight a hopeless battle on the strip
A foe I never will defeat—my coach
Each thought, word, deed the butt of clever quip
With each earnest attempt, I earn reproach
Outcome ordained, the deck already stacked
My confidence and will adroitly cracked
Do I not see the exercise has changed?!
Be smart! If you see opening, then leap!
Your acts must be spontaneous, unplanned
But do exactly what I say, don’t sleep!
With weaker opponents I “just compete”
With stronger foes my action’s incomplete
Wrist flops, arm bends, I lag, and miss my cue
Improve! But do not try, no try—just do
If you say you come to practice, come!
Excuses just provoke an Arctic chill
Sore arm, bruised rib, pulled muscle, swollen thumb
Mere lies to hide a most unstable will
But, if I’m honest, I’m forced to admit
The blame for this fiasco lies with me
I brought it on myself, and must submit
Why did I ever say I want my “B”?!

Unbalanced Equation

I never got the hang of algebra

Strangely, later on, I took to Calculus right off, following the soaring arcs of growth. Manipulating limits--I’m all about that.

Statistics tickled me, contradicting common sense, puncturing pretense, promising a glimpse of hidden truth.

But earlier, about eighth grade, I hit a wall. At first, it seemed not bad, solving for a variable or two. Unknown quantities—that’s just life.

But bump that up to three, and I was lost. No clear route to the solution—just the equation standing like a brick wall. I couldn’t see a door, much less the key. I would leap, dodge, batter or negotiate, all to no avail. Ending, bruised and baffled, in a blizzard of paper documenting failed attacks.

My best friend—she could see the answer, obvious and ordinary, waiting at the gate. But how, I asked seeking Cliff Notes for the koan). “It just is” she demurred, “I can’t say how.” And so she shared in my poor grades, but for the opposite sin—arriving on time and in the right place without a mapping of the route.

And now, damn it all, it turns out to be a necessary skill, and not abstract at all. Fencing, work and home, facing off against the one set value, 24 uncompromising hours.

Wrestling with two, I’ll strike a precious truce—adequate practice, a home-cooked meal, and wham, the third collapses, my misleading strength undone by lack of sleep. Or sleep gains ground, and work suffers, scattered on my desk at end of day.

Most often these two vie for time: the household and the blade. Some weeks, I spend more time awake in company of coach than with my spouse. And how to place a value on this “a”, this “b”? The arduous simplicity of practice: the company of seekers, challenges to everything I know or think I know, a life’s work, a constant tempest of the soul. The comforting and mundane tasks of life: the cats fed, bread baked, garden weeded, a decade’s long duet of growth and change unfolding slowly, slowly.

The math is clear—I can’t have both, at least not all of both. And thinking back, I remember that these problems have, in fact, two answers, two stable states, each equally true. There is no balance in between, caught in an unsteady state. So even if the answer comes, if intuition strikes, and it just is, the answer’s not an answer but a choice.

I never got the hang of algebra...

An Invitation

Step across the line, into the sacred space
Encompassing our practice
Enter a timeless world
Commit to mindfulness, to curiosity

Settle inward, spiral towards the light
That shines within, pretense strips away
Unveiling our true selves
Each perfect as we are, yet striving towards perfection

Then blossom outward
Capturing each sound each scent each touch
Reeling in the world
And cast it back, with confidence and grace

Metta Meditation

May I be safe from inner and outer harm
Splinter and blade, passion and regret
May I be happy and peaceful at heart
As puddled cat, splayed in summer sun
May I be well and strong
Respite from rip, bruise, tear, and time
May I pursue joy in my life
Up to the edge of the world, and on