I turned out to be a lousy museum goer. I have planned yesterday to spend a day at the deYoung museum. But then it was raining heavily in the morning and I worked from a cafe looking at the rain drops slide down the window. Then I packed my stuff and went to MMA for the noon class. I have never been at the MMA at noon before.
On my way to the car I bumped into Isaac and he asked me what was my daughter’s name and I told him. And he said that he will call her “the little dancer”. And I told him how fighting is very much like dancing. Body touch and movement at certain pressure. And there is grace in both.
There were 6 of us at MMA at noon. When I was changing in the bathroom I saw my body in the mirror and I knew I love my body. I looked at my arms, hips, waist and I loved what I was seeing. Not a muscle waisted, not a muscle visible. Strength and energy compressed inside.
After the class we did some sparring on the mat. And there was a moment when after a few successful submissions I ended up in the worst possible position. On my back with my opponent’s body squared over me. The body was pressing my body and it hurt. I was still going, but I was about to give up. And then I heard Jason’s voice saying, “Move to your side, move your hips, elbow escape”. I did not even know he was there sitting and watching us. His voice made all the difference. I found the strength and I got out of it. And then it was easy and I made the opponent tap. And I am sure Jason does not even know how his words made all the difference.
My body hurt badly when I left. I sat in my car, rolled down the car windows and listened to Celentano love songs. Drops of sweat falling from my forehead. My hair was a mess. I fixed my hair and tried to breath better. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. I knew I was not going to give up.
I drove home, took a long shower and made myself a salad. Celentano songs still playing in my head and my chest and arms hurting from sparring. My right hand was lightly bruised. And I stared at the bruise as if it was a medal. And I thought that it was funny how love and pain interlace in one beautiful pattern. And I have a crash on this pattern.
I thought that I was grateful to the kids for making me score higher. If I would not have them and all the financial and time responsibilities I would probably let myself act on a whim, I would be spoiled, I would do things as an emotional reaction. With the kids I pushed myself to think better, to have better job, to love what I do, to be what I want them to become.
I drove to school to pickup the kids and I listened to the same Celentano song. I was in love with it. It made me love Italian language which I understood so well. I thought about work and how I was about to give up yesterday and how today was another day. And I was not going to give up now. I started to think about a plan. It was a blurred map of points and lines traced in my mind. But it was something that had a definite shape and it made sense. My body knew it before my mind knew it and I trust my body. The pain and passion were so close to each other these days that it changed everything.
The moon was white and it was almost full. I looked at it as we drove home. From the hill it looked big and unreal. Its light gave strength. Outside on the street the night air was cold. Change was about to happen.