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Now is the winter
Nov. 16th, 2001 01:24 pmLast night was the worst Aikido class I've had. We had slow and easy warmups, which mean no falls around the room, no knee-walking, and, perhaps most importantly, no forward rolls.
So when we got to the new technique, which was more static than Bounce could ever hope to combat, and involved the aggressor basically turning herself around and rolling out, I just didn't get it. I didn't have the roll down, I felt extremely awkward with the turning part, and it just all added up to major frustration. The blackbelt partnered with me is super-nice, but I just wasn't getting it.
It got better. We broke, and did just rolls for a while, and I found I can roll better on my left than my right (how bizarre is that), and then we moved onto the stuff that I'm still learning vocab for. (aigamaiate?) The throw/fall stuff. This I can do, which helped immensely. And I got a gi which I'll need to shrink a wee bit in the wash before Sunday.
It was bad, and it was immensely frustrating, and on the way home I was singing Bring Me A Star, which is one depressing, sappy little song. (and one of four I can sing a cappella and not sound like a complete freak.)
And yet...
I am not discontent, not at all. I'm learning, and while I'm sore and achy and would rather nap today away, there's too much good stuff around me to do more than bitch and get on with it.
Winter's an odd time for me. I'm more tired in general - I'm solar powered, and it shows. The mornings where I ignore my alarm until I can see more than a vague hint of twilight, the evenings when it's dark before I leave work, and all I want to do is sleep off the exhaustion that slowly settles on my shoulders as I exit the building.
Growing up, though, winter was the greening time, when the hills would fade slowly from their summer tans and browns, and flirt shyly with orange and yellow before settling in a springish green that would be fade before spring itself had barely started. Winter was trips to the snow, and pine scents and huddling over the hot air vents with the dog in the mornings.
Winter's changed for me here. I'm more aware of the darkness, and I miss the long, lazy days when I have to walk home through the halos of streetlights and under pines dripping onto half-flooded paths. The rains have come though, and even as greyly depressing as the days may seem, they're still the heralds of green to me, the winter greens.
Winter isn't death to me, or hibernation, it's a simple slowing of growth and life. Things slow down to a whisper, a murmur of time passing, but still moving, still living. It's a breather, a hope for spring.
So when we got to the new technique, which was more static than Bounce could ever hope to combat, and involved the aggressor basically turning herself around and rolling out, I just didn't get it. I didn't have the roll down, I felt extremely awkward with the turning part, and it just all added up to major frustration. The blackbelt partnered with me is super-nice, but I just wasn't getting it.
It got better. We broke, and did just rolls for a while, and I found I can roll better on my left than my right (how bizarre is that), and then we moved onto the stuff that I'm still learning vocab for. (aigamaiate?) The throw/fall stuff. This I can do, which helped immensely. And I got a gi which I'll need to shrink a wee bit in the wash before Sunday.
It was bad, and it was immensely frustrating, and on the way home I was singing Bring Me A Star, which is one depressing, sappy little song. (and one of four I can sing a cappella and not sound like a complete freak.)
And yet...
I am not discontent, not at all. I'm learning, and while I'm sore and achy and would rather nap today away, there's too much good stuff around me to do more than bitch and get on with it.
Winter's an odd time for me. I'm more tired in general - I'm solar powered, and it shows. The mornings where I ignore my alarm until I can see more than a vague hint of twilight, the evenings when it's dark before I leave work, and all I want to do is sleep off the exhaustion that slowly settles on my shoulders as I exit the building.
Growing up, though, winter was the greening time, when the hills would fade slowly from their summer tans and browns, and flirt shyly with orange and yellow before settling in a springish green that would be fade before spring itself had barely started. Winter was trips to the snow, and pine scents and huddling over the hot air vents with the dog in the mornings.
Winter's changed for me here. I'm more aware of the darkness, and I miss the long, lazy days when I have to walk home through the halos of streetlights and under pines dripping onto half-flooded paths. The rains have come though, and even as greyly depressing as the days may seem, they're still the heralds of green to me, the winter greens.
Winter isn't death to me, or hibernation, it's a simple slowing of growth and life. Things slow down to a whisper, a murmur of time passing, but still moving, still living. It's a breather, a hope for spring.
