I Think, Therefore I Get Hit
He was only sorting pears. Pitching the rotting ones into a can across the fruit aisle.
But when he went to throw, I ducked.
Or, rather, bobbed--to use the boxing term, because it's boxing that caused this reaction. Specifically, the punches to the ribcage I had endured the evening before.
Trainers train by punching where you're exposed, because you won't leave those elbows up for long. Whether a punch or pear is coming at you, there's no time to think; only the motions practiced thousands of times will save you.
Not thinking: not my specialty.
A barrage of punches were thrown before I determined that nothing creative was required of me, that I simply needed to freakin' get outta the way. I had been paired with the teacher to shadowbox, to theoretically take turns jabbing or weaving in air, but Emily would have none of that. I'd weave and she'd punch me in the gut. I'd jab and she'd slap my arm. No, I wasn't to move my feet. I was to stay six inches from her nose, and face what was coming.
It worked. Not thinking--reacting--kicked in. Removing my glasses helped some (knucklehead had me paranoid), my mind blurring with my vision. But mostly it was the hits that knocked the thinking out of me.
I have to say, It was kinda nice.
But when he went to throw, I ducked.
Or, rather, bobbed--to use the boxing term, because it's boxing that caused this reaction. Specifically, the punches to the ribcage I had endured the evening before.
Trainers train by punching where you're exposed, because you won't leave those elbows up for long. Whether a punch or pear is coming at you, there's no time to think; only the motions practiced thousands of times will save you.
Not thinking: not my specialty.
A barrage of punches were thrown before I determined that nothing creative was required of me, that I simply needed to freakin' get outta the way. I had been paired with the teacher to shadowbox, to theoretically take turns jabbing or weaving in air, but Emily would have none of that. I'd weave and she'd punch me in the gut. I'd jab and she'd slap my arm. No, I wasn't to move my feet. I was to stay six inches from her nose, and face what was coming.
It worked. Not thinking--reacting--kicked in. Removing my glasses helped some (knucklehead had me paranoid), my mind blurring with my vision. But mostly it was the hits that knocked the thinking out of me.
I have to say, It was kinda nice.
I can just see it - you're in the grocery store, right? and you knocked out the fruit sorter?
ReplyDeleteHey, what are you doing tonight? 7:30-8:30 =- I think the boys would even enjoy Amanda Amour's Poetic Justice: A Play on Words. in the Calvin Chapel. I'm hoping to get some the men who are working on "hope" articles to come. and I'll go again it's so good.
I bet Knucklehead won't hit you again!!!! You'll be too quick! Have a great Birthday! :))))
ReplyDelete~Mindy~
I think the same not-thinking approach works for video games and playing an instrument. I can be playing perfectly and the moment I start thinking "man, I don't great" -- that's when it all falls apart.
ReplyDeleteDecidedly not-thinking on occasion (activities undertaken in their correct speed) is part of the Slow living philosophy I'm writing about: refusing to constantly zoom about in desperation, mindlessly existing while speedily checking items off a list. I never compared dodging produce to letting my mind lope about while listening to Freddie Mercury or waiting for a downtown bus, but you've convinced me!
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday versatile, gorgeous, amazing Amy!!
Most fondly, Jennah
this isn't anonymous, but I can't figure out how else to post it yet.
PS Starting this afternoon I have a computer again (they kept breaking, but I'm hoping the poltergeist my keyboard apparently unleashes won't destroy this one) and hope to follow your inspirational example and also write a patchwork blog.
Thanks, Carol--and Mindy, coiner of the term "knucklehead"!
ReplyDeleteGlenn, I think thinking will forever be our great occupational hazard. But you've got a good head on your shoulders, so use it, and avoid letting it get hit...
Jennah: I was just thinking how we were the last of the great letter writers. I miss that. Glad to see you here!