Winter Training

I found myself many hours before sunrise holding a bokken, shuddering. My muscles could not still from the strangeness of 5  am rhythmic slicing by the light of a single candle flame. Ich! Ni! San! Shi! Go!…each member of the dojo counting to ten ad infinitum. Slicing, disarmament, and breath work all, to put it simply, strange and challenging to someone who is unfamiliar with the way it all works.

After exiting that space, I drive to the place I can never quite find. As I walk from my car, a man huddled up under an open air shelter shouts something out at me-possibly asking if it’s 5 am yet-but I cant tell. He is rocking back and forth to restore blood to circulation, and it’s obvious my car has woken him up. Those twitchy motions…I’m surprised there aren’t others sleeping here, but it’s possibly a mile from down town, where many of the transients have taken to sleeping in front of city hall. When I noticed this a few weeks back, I had wondered if it was a get out of the rain matter or another political movement. For some, being transient is political others it is not…

Onward. The pique of morning comes in a reverse rainbow of color. First, the blue bandwidth rules the land, then purple, yellow tones and red become vibrant. Down on a watershed trail exploring the land until it bursts to light. As if if there is a question of what to do with time, the only answer, really is to be out in it. At 7:23 the first other starts singing.

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