Snowflake

Something I've been stewing on,  yet another thing on my mind since fighting monkey intensive in January.  Normal versus special.

Feeling special is a partitioning.
Gives a different value to experiences,  can make one feel more vulnerable easily offended and angered. The "don't you know who i am" effect. Ego is in sway.

Moments where i have felt special or wanted to be special,  are moments where I've felt fragile,  vulnerable and disconnected.

In Systema books they talk about doing the work,  being professional.

Jozef and Linda described it as being normal.

----------

Snowflake
You're not special;
Some kind of normal
most likely. Saving the damsel, Saving
the people, being patient, Doesn't
make you special;
Doesn't make your pains, nor your
suffering special. Nothing
new under the sun;
Some kind of normal
most likely.  Love
it.

Walls

Walls

What kind of home is earthquake proof,
Unbreakable?

Go ask the builders their ways;
Lay bricks,
Join wood.

Ward off the elements,
Isolate.

Attend!
A way crooked followed will sunder walls.

Still...
Walls and roofs fail.
Just wait.

Ways lain down in stone,
Absolute,
Stagnant.

What kind of home is earthquake proof?
One of horizon and heaven.

A wall unbuilt is never breached,
Wood unjoined never split

Hardcore kindness

Returned to working on my deep stance the last few weeks. Last year I built up to 7 minutes. Coming back at it again I'm between 3-4 minutes, fresh.

This evening I sat three times: 3:30, 3:00, 2:50 (probably 3-5 minutes between the sits). I'm proud of myself because each time I stayed there for a more intense sensation in the legs. The last one I got to the legs trembling and tingling phase.

In college I treated it as a flagellating thing, chastising myself for my weakness whenever I whimpered to myself about stopping and standing, and the usual perfectionism jazz.

In the last 5 years, I've become more interested in grace under fire;  Be it a  deep stance, an impending deadline, or an argument: the psyche has similar responses to stress; cultivating kindness as things get tough is meaningful because it's easy to be a grouchy fuck when your back is against the wall.

Things that are helping me the most in being kind while I feel the burn and get those gainz:
A tip from Paul Linden's (he's amazing, and hosting a bodywork and embodiment seminar around 7th July - go go go!) centring method, which is mighty powerful, is to have a "smiling heart".  Something I got from Tom Weksler (a self-described traveling teacher, he's got an astonishingly deep practice in many things; acrobatics, stillness, martial arts, dance, also go learn from him :) ) was imagine the tension flowing out to the extremities; it's like spreading lumps of butter evenly on bread.¹ And finally: even full breaths with a complete exhales, because I've noticed if my chest and stomach is tight, I don't reflexively exhale fully, and it peters out with some gas still in the tank, so to speak. So when I'm not freaking out too much, I try to gently, but clearly exhale fully. I got the mindfulness on breathing from Systema.²

Tough training, particularly approaching physical or psychological limits is a way to experience the acute stress response, and get a " taste of trauma." Using the opportunity to cultivate gentleness and compassion, instead of irritation and frustration is invaluable, because it'll become easier and more reflexive to be that way when the shit hits the fan for realz.

In summary, kindness practice offers a wonderful layer to tough training sessions.

+++++
¹Bilbo shout out!
²yes, yes, I'm doing a lot of namedropping. Because it makes me look good. But also, it's marvelous how different and the same ideas can come from different people and influences... I'm a strong believer in redundancy hearing the same thing from different sources is a wonderful indicator of an underlying principle or a hypothesis being correct (it's never a certainty, but independent corroboration is sweeeet).

Listen to yourself

Interesting blog, one line in particular caught my attention.

"I train based on instinct. For example, no one tells me when I am hungry or thirsty. I just know. My body tells me."

This is golden advice, but practically tricky to follow: What he's suggesting is something that is a life's work; and why is it a life's work?

Because we are awfully good at deceiving ourselves; That's why we have trouble with things we feel are good for us versus seemingly attractive alternatives; e.g. ice-cream vs no ice-cream; in bed early versus looking at Facebook¹

Basically, relying on the body is potentially disastrous, particularly for someone going with no experience. And a program/method is arguably a quickstart that gives you ground to stand on.

It is a clear target,  a meter stick,² and a drill sergeant for when you want to stop, because part of you feels like you've done enough; and there will always be a part of you saying "that's enough". Sometimes it's worth listening to, other times it isn't. And knowing that difference is the hard work.

We're responsible for our own well-being and health, I don't think any method should overshadow that because eventually we outgrow them.

This stuff had been on my mind because of experiences with and reading on Systema and attending the Fighting Monkey intensive in Athens in January. Both of then eschew blindly following dogma in favour of listening and being receptive to inside and out.

Like the man said, eventually it should be like hunger or thirst. Just another instinct.

=======
¹Just a couple of examples I got... From a friend. Named... Ummm.. Blairtin.
²In a fit of elitist snobbishness I ended up describing a program or method as a "fitness Nuremberg defence", which absolves us of responsibility for our physical well-being and health.

Growing on the pole

First night back at circus training.
This is where I've been experiencing most frustration, disappointment and anxiety, ie "an ideal setting for working on shit" as Buddha says.

Screwing up and failing at stuff is something I criticise myself for to varying degrees depending a number of factors (well rested, fatigue, hydrated, what my expectation is; my ability relative to others, and how i feel about that). Some days it's an infinitesimal mote that I easily huff away with chortle. Other days it cloys, clots and clings like honey in my hair (... I imagine honey is like that in hair).
At the circus training there are a couple of different disciplines I see around me, floor acrobats, handbalancers, aerialists and jugglers.
I marvel at jugglers when they're training; if they drop a ball they are as cool as cucumber, they'll keep juggling. Flow and continuity is they're bag. They take dropping balls in their stride. It genuinely amazes me everyone every time I see it;  usually freeze or collapse when things go awry.
Today I was in the "Dude zone" (hatch tag big Lebowski). I was working on pirouettes transitioning to knee switches. Since the beginning knee switches have been a sticking point for me. I took these recordings:

Casual pirouette

I love how casually I'm moving. I think starting away from the poke helped that a great deal, it built up psychological momentum because walking is easy and the pole was an small in my field of vision. I slip the pirouette a couple of times, but I stay reasonably unperturbed. And I managed to make headway in knee switches, despite frustration and tunnel vision in previous sessions, largely because I had a different set up/context with a taste of ease or flow.
As it happens I was sharing the room with jugglers this evening, I feel like some of their attitude rubbed off on me, like lipstick on a shirt, which naturally makes any person cooler and more capable because it implies they are getting some action.

So, some summarising:
- all I need is a bathrobe and milk in my beard, and I could do a big Lebowski themed piece
- it's useful to change the context of something, particularly of it feels like something is stuck
- this video would be much prettier of I pointed my toes and looked at the "public"
- look at how other people do stuff