Note to self on new stands:
Pick one you really like and practice.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
How stands can stick
Is it making kamea or do you take kamea.....I don’t know....I don’t think it matters.
So what is kamea?
It’s a stands, a posture, a moment of preparation. A gunslinger taking his stands in the middle of a dusty road, ready to draw. A cop, flat against the wall, just before busting open the door. A runner crouched down in starting position, waiting for the gun to go off. We all know what happens at the word go, but what happens in the moment of kamea? When all goes well, this is the moment you let the dust settle. You’ve been training for this moment all your live, all the preparations, all the success and all the fears, all the blood, sweat, tears and laughter fall into place. You might not feel it, you might not know it, but you are ready. For better or worse, here you are, waiting for the word go. The gunslinger knows, the cop knows and so does the runner, at the word go they might get killed or win the gold medal. Now they need to relax, let the dust settle and focus.
So how do you deal with the big and small moments that count?
I can tell you how I tend deal with them and why.
Here in this country filled with water, we grow up with the knowledge that we are way below sea level. Every child has to learn to swim, and so did I. I saw kids around me protest when they had to stick there head under the water, I didn’t mind, I learned to love the way the world looks and sounds beneath the water. I saw kids around me happily put on the belt of corks and cling on to a board and go into the water. I hated the corks and feared the board, so in the middle of practice I would pretend the belt came of and let the board float away, and I swam, not nicely flat on the water, but upright like a buoy, head up, feet down, but I swam. Now imagine the desperate teachers that tried to teach me how to float and swim the proper way. I can tell you, they didn’t have a giggle.
Than the day came where we had to swim for our diploma A, mums and dads gathered around the pool, kids, ready in there swimsuits, all nervous, shivering even though it’s august. We had to make a neat line and jump in, one at a time. I was in that line too, having second thoughts, and thirds and fourths. I could out swim them all, made friends with the water and didn’t mind sinking. But being scolded time and time again for not swimming properly made doubt creep in. When it was my turn I had made my mind up, I was not going in and be the laughing stock. So I stood there on the edge pool, arms folded, probably looking more scared than determined saying: “No”. The teacher pleaded with me to go in, but I said: ”No”, turned away from the pool and stormed out. Can’t remember the short walk home, did I stomp home or did I ran, I do remember the overwhelming feeling of failure and being failed. When I got home I rummaged through the shed and found an old folding chair and a bright yellow plastic tub. I placed the tub in the middle of our back yard, filled it with water and sat in it. I covered my head and tub with the folding chair, crossed my arms and brooded. When my mum came back home she asked what I was doing there, I told her that I would swim for my diploma right here. I think she giggled, but I know she left me, which was probably the best thing to do. Next year I swam for my A and B diploma back to back, no one ever knew. I did practice for my C but never saw the point in getting it and standing with my arms folded thinking No became my favorite kamea.
I still do this, I know I’m ready and well prepared, but I let doubt creep in and shy away. I recently had my evaluation at work, after last years high praise she was rather disappointed this time around. She couldn’t figure out why I didn’t put my foot down when I should or make my opinions heard. She wondered if her expectations of me were to high. That hit a nerve. I told her that I didn’t feel that my way of looking at things had any value, that in having only my A and B I didn’t have the right to talk. She looked at me kindly and handed me a Kleenex and said:” Why do you think I hired you?”
So what is kamea?
It’s a stands, a posture, a moment of preparation. A gunslinger taking his stands in the middle of a dusty road, ready to draw. A cop, flat against the wall, just before busting open the door. A runner crouched down in starting position, waiting for the gun to go off. We all know what happens at the word go, but what happens in the moment of kamea? When all goes well, this is the moment you let the dust settle. You’ve been training for this moment all your live, all the preparations, all the success and all the fears, all the blood, sweat, tears and laughter fall into place. You might not feel it, you might not know it, but you are ready. For better or worse, here you are, waiting for the word go. The gunslinger knows, the cop knows and so does the runner, at the word go they might get killed or win the gold medal. Now they need to relax, let the dust settle and focus.
So how do you deal with the big and small moments that count?
I can tell you how I tend deal with them and why.
Here in this country filled with water, we grow up with the knowledge that we are way below sea level. Every child has to learn to swim, and so did I. I saw kids around me protest when they had to stick there head under the water, I didn’t mind, I learned to love the way the world looks and sounds beneath the water. I saw kids around me happily put on the belt of corks and cling on to a board and go into the water. I hated the corks and feared the board, so in the middle of practice I would pretend the belt came of and let the board float away, and I swam, not nicely flat on the water, but upright like a buoy, head up, feet down, but I swam. Now imagine the desperate teachers that tried to teach me how to float and swim the proper way. I can tell you, they didn’t have a giggle.
Than the day came where we had to swim for our diploma A, mums and dads gathered around the pool, kids, ready in there swimsuits, all nervous, shivering even though it’s august. We had to make a neat line and jump in, one at a time. I was in that line too, having second thoughts, and thirds and fourths. I could out swim them all, made friends with the water and didn’t mind sinking. But being scolded time and time again for not swimming properly made doubt creep in. When it was my turn I had made my mind up, I was not going in and be the laughing stock. So I stood there on the edge pool, arms folded, probably looking more scared than determined saying: “No”. The teacher pleaded with me to go in, but I said: ”No”, turned away from the pool and stormed out. Can’t remember the short walk home, did I stomp home or did I ran, I do remember the overwhelming feeling of failure and being failed. When I got home I rummaged through the shed and found an old folding chair and a bright yellow plastic tub. I placed the tub in the middle of our back yard, filled it with water and sat in it. I covered my head and tub with the folding chair, crossed my arms and brooded. When my mum came back home she asked what I was doing there, I told her that I would swim for my diploma right here. I think she giggled, but I know she left me, which was probably the best thing to do. Next year I swam for my A and B diploma back to back, no one ever knew. I did practice for my C but never saw the point in getting it and standing with my arms folded thinking No became my favorite kamea.
I still do this, I know I’m ready and well prepared, but I let doubt creep in and shy away. I recently had my evaluation at work, after last years high praise she was rather disappointed this time around. She couldn’t figure out why I didn’t put my foot down when I should or make my opinions heard. She wondered if her expectations of me were to high. That hit a nerve. I told her that I didn’t feel that my way of looking at things had any value, that in having only my A and B I didn’t have the right to talk. She looked at me kindly and handed me a Kleenex and said:” Why do you think I hired you?”
Discovered some things
After walking my dogs for a couple of hours in the woods and along the beach.
1
I should be more like Flow, always going forward, with out remorse, guilt or longing to go back. But happily seeking new adventures or things to eat.
2
Irrational fears should be dealt with like any other fear. Look it in the eye and bow, make kamea, relax and move!
Funny, it took me 20 years of practicing Aikido to realize this.....
1
I should be more like Flow, always going forward, with out remorse, guilt or longing to go back. But happily seeking new adventures or things to eat.
2
Irrational fears should be dealt with like any other fear. Look it in the eye and bow, make kamea, relax and move!
Funny, it took me 20 years of practicing Aikido to realize this.....
Mountain or molehill
Went on a long walk with the dogs. Lately I always take the bleu route, it takes you trough the woods first, than trough the dunes and down to a nice stretch of beach, back up through the dunes and into the woods again. When we have a good pace it takes us about two hours. It’s a nice route, there is one point though, near the end, that I dread just a bit. It’s a climb up, its not a big climb, next to Everest it’s not even a molehill. But it’s enough hill to have me dread it, see at that point I’m getting tired, my legs are cold and from down there, looking up it always seems to high.
Today I was a bit late, the sun was already setting. Walking along the beach I could see the gray sea and the gray sky merging into one and the world was getting smaller and smaller. I took my time, cause just before the real dark sets in you get to know things you wouldn’t know by the light of day. Little birds that skim the shore line, suddenly don’t mind you being there at all. Waves that roll on to the sand seem to change there tune and the wind makes her direction more clear.
When I finally went back up the dune, which by the way is a real climb with it’s lose sand and steep slope, I looked back at the sea, she was almost hidden by darkness, just a few white puffs of foam on the waves and her sound told me she was still there. I thanked her and went back in to the now dark woods, I don’t mind the dark, the world is snug and silent then. I finally came to the bend in the path and I knew the dreaded hill was just around the corner, spending that much time on the beach and temperatures dropping fast my legs felt like jelly frozen over. But going up the dreaded hill never felt as light, I actually enjoyed it. On the way back to my car I pondered, was it just because I couldn’t see up, or did I bow to my irrational fear, took kamea, relaxed and moved.
Today I was a bit late, the sun was already setting. Walking along the beach I could see the gray sea and the gray sky merging into one and the world was getting smaller and smaller. I took my time, cause just before the real dark sets in you get to know things you wouldn’t know by the light of day. Little birds that skim the shore line, suddenly don’t mind you being there at all. Waves that roll on to the sand seem to change there tune and the wind makes her direction more clear.
When I finally went back up the dune, which by the way is a real climb with it’s lose sand and steep slope, I looked back at the sea, she was almost hidden by darkness, just a few white puffs of foam on the waves and her sound told me she was still there. I thanked her and went back in to the now dark woods, I don’t mind the dark, the world is snug and silent then. I finally came to the bend in the path and I knew the dreaded hill was just around the corner, spending that much time on the beach and temperatures dropping fast my legs felt like jelly frozen over. But going up the dreaded hill never felt as light, I actually enjoyed it. On the way back to my car I pondered, was it just because I couldn’t see up, or did I bow to my irrational fear, took kamea, relaxed and moved.
And so it begins
27 december 2009
Taking the plunge
I finally did it....I reached out... 30 years in the waiting. I’m extremely nervous or excited or both.
All a flutter,
Softly
Taking the plunge
I finally did it....I reached out... 30 years in the waiting. I’m extremely nervous or excited or both.
All a flutter,
Softly
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