The encouraging thing about the yin yang symbol is that at the center of the strongest portion of one aspect you have the tiny seed potential of the other. This is comforting too, especially when, as you navigate the very long rhythms of life, you find yourself adrift from your source of vitality and strength. And even though I haven't trained in almost two years, I know that the tiny seed of keiko is pulsing along beside me, waiting to grow again as the rhythm shifts.
Health issues were the catalyst of my disappearance from the mat, and though I'm back to nearly full health (knees not so much), I have only trained bukiwaza in fits and starts.
This really doesn't bother me; the long rhythms take care of themselves, and I will be back on the mat at some point. For now my training is in grocery lines and ball parks, and it is good training.
Meanwhile, I have been spending my workout time training my knees to be stronger on the bike, and have logged more miles this past year than any of the previous five. And I've become very intimate with the ocean, scuba diving on the Sonoma coast, Monterey/Carmel, Hawaii, Mexico.
Being in the water is very therapeutic for me. The experience of weightlessness in the bright water column, with kelp, rockfish, invertibrates, and marine mammals all around, taking four breaths per minute, is a blend with an entire ecosystem (though I did have once to ward off a territorial sea lion with an attempt at something like kokyunage.)
With the news that Sensei is returning to California for a few weeks in April I feel a growing sense of anticipation and with that the recognition that my haphazard weapons practice is going to become more organized.
I appreciate all of you who have stuck with me while I have mostly not been writing. I think that there may still be more stories to tell.
Meanwhile, may all of you have a wonderful, healthy, happy New Year!