Mister Misser

All night I had violent muscle spasms, an amplified form of the day's evil pains. These spams hit so hard and fast that if I could replicate them I might get a new kata. My body wrenches so hard that I flail, so heaven help you if I happen to be nearby with hot tea in an uncovered tumbler. I got a dislocation that it took me hours to reduce, a bruise from flailing into the wall, a nasty headache and soreness all over.

I missed karate this morning.

Today I had a lot of plans. I won't be able to do them independently. I might not be able at all, we'll see. So far I've had breakfast and brushed my teeth. This is an enormous accomplishment every single day and I give thanks for that.

There is nothing in my dojokun about perseverance, and I prefer it that way. Sensei often speaks about Higaonna-Sensei's unforgiving and relentless hours of repetitive drills. He says of 2007 punches while crouched in shiko dachi, "but you know what? I got through it by only thinking about the one I'm doing: now this punch... now this punch...now this punch...."

My point is that it makes sense that mindfulness has a cumulative impact on overall success. That is, just focus on the next task. It's very hard to do that with EDS because I will wear myself out for several days by doing certain things for five minutes, and this is not hyperbole.

I hate missing karate. That place is the only thing I strive to do, the only thing I always enjoy. It's where I get to be with myself and my body in a positive way. When I can't make it I feel so sorry, so very sad. I miss my Sensei, I miss working in groups, I miss just being somewhere and knowing that I don't have to plan out the next hour. I can just hang out and have fun, and know that I will be able to handle anything that happens there. 

Being in the dojo reduces the anxiety I have about EDS. We never do a drill for very long, and if we do I just take a rest when I need to. Sensei has instructed me to bow out and rest when I need to, so that means being a tough guy is not acceptable. I have to follow the rules and be honest about what I can and cannot do. In that sense I interact with my body's limits, and it doesn't seem unmanageable like it does outside of the dojo.

My second instruction is to get back in there as soon as I can. I live for that feeling I get when I open the door and bow back in.