Some years ago, I was having a fantastic evening at a karate class. The stone floor of our dojo was pounding with 12 karatekas practicing their kicks.
Jump. Turn. Kick. Land. Repeat.
The magic of a black belt class is that there need be no instructor to get people to practice their asses off with face-breaking concentration.
We all thought we were very cool. We'd all mastered a kick that had taken us years to come to grips with. The punching bag in the middle of the room didn't stand a chance. In a silent line, turn by turn, we faced it and bowed. And then, jumpturnkicklandrepeat. For good measure, we'd throw a couple of dead-straight punches at the thing as soon as our toes touched the floor.
I did it once.
I fell. Great.
I did it again. The sweet thud of foot slamming onto the side of the bag, and then the tremor on the floor as I fell back to Earth. Success! And again. Harder. Harder! And for good measure, punchpunchslam! My whole body was on fire and my mind was a crystal clear sea, cool as ice.
I thought: 'I didn't know I could think, two feet off the ground - but I can! I can see exactly what to do! If that bag were a person, he'd have a shattered face and he wouldn't have a chance.'

The dojo is not just a room - it is a sensient being. And it detests boasting about face-breaking prowess. It hates pride. It sensed mine rising up from my insides into my smile, and stepped in.
The sensei behind me tapped my shoulder and said, 'Good!! Excellent. You got it. Now do it with your eyes closed from now till the end of the class.' One and half hours.
Fuck.
I was too far gone with my euphoria to watch my tongue and said, 'That's impossible. Even you can't do that.'
Mistake.
He did - Eyes closed, two kicks before landing, one turn. Punchpunchslam! Eyes open. For a second I thought I imagined it. But the bag was swinging wildly from the ceiling and everyone's jaws had hit the floor.

I tried it and of course, my forehead connected with the bag. Hard.
I tried it again. No luck.
Everyone who'd mastered the kick tried it. We all fell.
It's a pretty naked feeling, to wear a black belt and fall with your eyes closed onto a cold stone floor, panting, in front of people you respect and who've broken your bones as you fought your exam. We all felt about 6 inches tall.

The second you think you know - you don't: I've never forgotten that.

The perfect excuse for bad blogging:
The more eloquently I can describe my life, the more distanced I am from the chaotic ambiguity that I love most about it.

But on a different note, here's the thing:
I've always thought that I love the ambiguity.
I'm discovering that I don't love it unconditionally, by any means.

Perhaps I'm not as immune to conditioning as I'd hoped. Isn't the whole point of the human enterprise to remove ambiguity? From the scale of the couple to the scale of the civilisation, 'success' means that we've locked things down and then systematically removed each and every question mark.
Put up a wall between the civilised and the Wild everything-else.
Definition. Understanding. Prediction. Control.
Engineered Perfection with low probability for disaster or despair.
Isn't that what we try to do, from the lone soul to the species?

And so it is that all of a sudden I find myself asking the Man: Seriously, what is going to become of us. Until I know for sure, I can't be Sure. And if I'm not sure, I can't be here.

To take what at first was the only limitless thing in my life, and then try to wrestle it to the ground with deadlines and contracts: Whose fault will it be when I can no longer fly? And will I mind when I wake up and realise what I've done?

Denial 101

Sometimes the best way to do something that you think is impossible is to pretend that you're already doing it, and doing it well.

Voila.

Conversations with God.

Will it happen?

Yes.

"How do you know?"
(I always need to be sure.)

"I know, trust Me."

"How will it happen? There are all these PROBLEMS in the way!"

"That, child, I do not know, only you can know that."

General Observation

People you love will disappoint you.
You will feel bruised and alone.
Someone will come along who makes you think you can tell them everything. They'll appear to have a halo and will be everything you've ever wanted and you can't do without them and you tell them your deepest hopes and wishes.
This is the person who will disappoint you terribly.
You will be bruised and alone.
The people you love will come running as soon as you call.

Lesson learnt:
The people you love will come back.
Don't talk to the overly-sparkly ones who appear when they turn their back. They're the universe's way of turning the pack against the weak and wounded.

Things are changing:

When a person leaves, I now say goodbye, without bitterness.
I used to take it very personally. Of course, this does not apply to all people. But the exceptions I can count on the fingers of one hand.
When I want to leave, I now say goodbye, without sadness. (And the number of people who'd try to stop me I can count on the fingers of one hand.)

Comes with practice - years and years of practice. But this is a good place to be.

You know you want something quite desperately when you wake up in the middle of the night to find yourself arguing for it out loud.