The Bargain

That was not my touch
Sure, it was my
Arm, blade, point, light &, finally, score
I mean it was not me
No conscious self guided that clever glide
Around your wicked parry,
Picking up the blade on your riposte
And sailing home into
The sweet square inch between your
Shoulder and your bib

Me? I sat back and watched,
—it was very pretty
Opa! Bravo.
But if not me, then Who?
Perhaps some wayward numen, looking for a game
Lured by glittering lamés, beeps and pretty flashing lights

Well, if this is enchantment
Let me be possessed
I will perform an exorcism in reverse
You’re welcome, spirit, to
Take on my puppet flesh
Make it appear
Athletic, and adept

In return I will provide
What little currency I have to trade…
A body trained as well as I am able,
Strong and fed and somewhat rested
(And cookies, lots of cookies, if it pleases)
A minimum of injuries
Brave blades, and worthy opponents
Copious opportunity to
Exercise your art
Deal? Spit on your incorporeal hand and shake

Here’s an empty space inside, where you can settle
Shaped to hold my soul, or center (call it what you will)
I’ve checked many times—It’s vacant, waiting for a tenant
See what a good fit!
Could have been hand-tailored to your lines
Almost as if, as if…

Dammit, where’ve you been all these long years?! Hey, wait, come back!

Strategy Wheel

Starting simply
Straight lunge into four
Just 80 percent-a most convincing feint
Physical telepathy
A gentle probing of your
State of mind
Observe your twitch of blade
The shadow of your parry (duly noted)
Dictates my next act—a feint in four and disengage to six
Touché
1-0

And since it worked, why not? I try again
But having tweaked the dial
You select a suitable response—
Parry circle four, riposte
1:1

And so I shift in turn and add
A crafty circle disengage and end in six
and touch, again
2:1

Action follows act
Building the bout’s narrative
The story’s arc
A logical progression
Increasingly complex
Until the balance tips and I
Drop back
To the simplest of acts
And feint…

Break distance, breathe
The wheel begins again

Guru (Dispelling Shadows)

Floundering about
In search of, what?
Stability
     A feeling of the world beneath my feet
     Shifting in predictable procession, not
     Seismic leaps
Insight
     Some faint perception of
     Habitual patterns
     The consequences of my acts
Compassion
     For concentric circles of all living things
     Impinging on my world
     And (hardest of all) myself

Humph. Fifty years of going it alone and not much change

Books, and lectures, theories, books and books
At last, I’m driven to concede
Despite my dogged independence
I need a teacher

Not out in the world
But centered in my heart
Who knows my inner darkness, stratagems, evasions
Sees thru my feline pretense of “I meant it to come out that way”
Won’t let me glide past problems with my clever words
Gently merciless, relentless
Accepting no excuses
Believing that I give my best
And firmly asking more

And look,
Despite my lack of faith
The world sends me what I need

Be careful what you wish for….
Growing pains are hell

Small Good Things

Tightening a grip
Carefully re-taping every blade
Working at the target, touch by patient touch
Footwork, up and down the strip

Cleaning out the pantry
Checking every bag for sign of moth or mouse
Scouring the pans
Washing down the counters

Cultivating contacts
Earnest curiosity that may or may not “pay off”
Giving shape to thoughts and posting to the blog
Checking off my tasks

Daunted by the prospect of attaining, what?
     A rating earned
     The perfect cake
     Stability in my career
I fall back on
Minor, necessary acts
Nothing monumental

Concentrate on each small step upon the path
Not the final destination
Trusting that the end will find itself

Comforting myself with small, good things

Muscle Memory

Encoded in the grain
By dint of endless repetition

The difference between
     Theory and practice
     Thought and execution

If I could do this thirty years ago—
The actions live within me still, correct?
Hidden by disuse
Atrophied, but waiting to awake
(If my aging body can support the strain)

Clumsily I mimic my much younger self
Working from imperfect recollection
Seeking some detail--
     Sound of blade on blade
     Scent of sweat and leather
A shock that will reverse the flow of time
Evoke the nerves’ potential

If the theory’s sound
If I’m not so changed by growth, experience and time
That what worked then is ill-fitting now
If so, what then?

Time to write new memories
Scrape the palimpsest and start again…

Shunyata (Vacancy)

Desire
Fills me up like
Water, or like wine
Fingertip to bone
Omphalos to earlobe
Leaving not a
Niche, cranny, fold, corner, diverticulum
Open to receive
     Grace
     Performance
     Serendipity
Blossoming of basic skills that hide within

I am
Too much cluttered with the
Hunger for perfection
Jealousy for bling
An attic of attachments

Puncture my pretentions, please
Just the smallest prick--
Let these longings seek their lowest level
Leaking from my toe-tips
Bleeding from my nails

Leaving me washed clean
Empty
Void of preconceptions
Filled with possibility

Room for improvement

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 дышать (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 conduits 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