The Fu

I love martial arts. LOVE. So much that if given the choice between internet porn and kung fu movie clips, I will chose kung fu. Yes, you freaks, I do know that there are videos that include both, but I will leave that blog to other, more twisted folks.

And I love martial arts in all its forms. I love the real, urban-military styles being used by soldiers around the world. I love the mystic KungFu! of fiction, complete with glowing fists and Sinanju masters. I even love the little precious-moment-like children at tae kwon do tournaments with their giant headgear tagging each other for points. I love the slow, grounding, and potentially healing properties of Qigong and Tai Chi.

So why am I not a martial artist? The truth: I'm lazy. It would require me to cut out time and money in my life that I don't want to part with. And I'm afraid of my back. Loading the dishes wrong can leave me limping for months. I'm afraid of what trying to kick above my own waist would do at this point. I'm not afraid of the pain of being punched or kicked or thrown. But living with the deep senseless pain of bad discs is something else.

I miss it. I miss the quiet minded feeling of bunkai fighting drills... The immediate reward of a well executed move as an opponent is stopped... The immediate lesson of a dropped guard or a raised elbow...

It is a transformation of a person. A growth from fat, lazy, anxious people to confident, strong, alert warriors. A balance of quick and calm that I don't feel in other places of life. It is not that I imagine myself ever being Jet Li or Bruce Lee. But it would be nice to feel... more solid?