MonkEE See, MonkEE Say (December)

By Brandee Laird

I remind them, "Control, not speed! Slow it down, take time," but the race is ever present in their minds--'Must run fast go obstacles now!' But such rushing ultimately hinders their lines. Thinking too much, moving too fast; with such anxious speed, control cannot last--laughing "I know," when really, too focused on "Go," and only will the trials prove this to be true.
    (--And I totally do it too.)
    I tell them, "Really, there is no hurry; parkour is always here--it just exists, is an option--everywhere inside us--and we prepare ourselves to meet it with our bodies."
    Maybe it's too much to say, and for others, incorrect, but it's how I make sense to myself, when I misstep because of rushing, of pushing in a scrambled way. Like today is the only day I have--which, technically, it is--but might not be true, as I'll probably wake up again and do what I'll do. Can I convince myself that I have as much time as I need, enough to slow my pace? That it is not haste to use, but patience.
    --Who else grew up wanting to be a ninja? Running courses in the yard, in forest, or in park--swinging from trees and calling out in animal voices--translated loosely to, "I am alive! I move this body!" And how much were we told to stop and didn't care? Were we worried about sprinting ourselves toward some idea of success, or were we just were, animals being. Driven to move in some way, did we force ourselves faster at play? Where I was younger, we did train thoughtfully--obstacle courses in the woods quiet-ninja-style, running down our beloved creek for miles--but I didn't feel afraid that I was progressing too slowly, that I had somewhere to catch up to. We found challenges, created courses, ran, called it training, and improved.
    When did I forget that I'm on my time? Knowing that I'll do it should be enough, but some days I feel explosive panic, and rush. Like I have somewhere to go that I'm not already headed towards, as if I could be late in never arriving there...There is no 'there' at which to stop, right? Goals, yes, an end of the game/race/stage goal? Not.
    And as the air gets colder and leaves transform sidewalks to mush, ride-walk-running, I imagine myself in no rush. I'm in a concrete forest where there are no deadlines, no clocks. Lessons come and go slowly, if I'm open to making them. I train, and rest, and worry not.
    I spend my time conscious of it; I have so much, and it's all I've got.

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Written by Janine   
Monday, 30 November 2009 02:50
Last Updated on Monday, 13 December 2010 21:48