2006: Thoughts

New year's day, and I'm feeling that typical urge to attempt to sum up the last year or so, and to place it into some sort of perspective. But I've been trying to get the words together for about half and hour, and it just ain't happening. Odd, that. So, I'll just go with some observations and see where they take me.

For me, this past year has been ... significant. That's the only word that really sums up my experiences in 2006. This was a year with weight, heft, and substance. 2006 really mattered.

There was some pain and loss. Losing Princess and Tom in the space of a single week was unspeakably horrid. And we had many challenges here at home, particularly in regard to my kids and their ADD/ADHD issues. This wasn't an easy year. But on the whole, it was a good one. Our family came through it in one piece, and we're a solid and strong and loving unit. I love my wife and my children so much it makes my heart ache, and I am so very, very blessed to have them.

The most obvious thing that defined 2006 for me is that it was the first year of my Tang Soo Do training, and I find I can't quite express just how much training has affected my life, inwardly and outwardly. Simply put, I feel more alive than I have in years. And it's not that I was unhappy or miserable before I started training. Instead I think that, somewhere in the course of getting a career and becoming a father, I forgot that my own life can be a work in progress. That who and what I am now, at 39, is not necessarily all that I can ever be. Tang Soo Do has reminded me of this, and it's difficult to explain how big a deal that is. It sounds like a simple thing, and I suppose from the outside looking in it is. But for me, this was something of a profound realization. Or perhaps a reawakening.

The results of this have been permeating all sorts of aspects of my life in unexpected ways. The most immediate and obvious effects are social: I feel more sure of myself socially than I have in years. I've found myself opening up and building friendships in a manner that I haven't been able to since college. I've made great strides in ignoring the self-doubt that used to run rampant over me on a regular basis. Prior to beginning training, I doubt I could have made the trek to Chicago for Adrianne's memorial celebration, and I certainly wouldn't have done it alone. I would have made excuses and come up with very good and sturdy reasons to not go, thereby avoiding any discomfort whatsoever. Instead I made my stressed-out ass go, and as a result enjoyed a weekend with some of the most fascinating, unique and enjoyable people I've ever met.

Without training, this would never have occured. I'm certain of that.

And while some folks still say I really need to relax, I know that I've already come a long way on that front. While I may be a bit twitchy and tense on the mat, I'm way more relaxed and confident and open to just enjoying myself while training than I was in the first few months. Shin chook remains my biggest obstacle, and I often wonder whether I will ever be able to really and truly just relax, on or off the mat. I simply don't understand how to do it. I know I'm tense, I know how it feels to be relaxed, but the idea of relaxing while actively engaged in something (even something I enjoy) eludes me. In my head, I equate relaxation with passivity and rest, not with activity. So shin chook is an ongoing lesson, but I'm making progress.

Training has also helped me to adjust my perspective on my career. My career is just fine. It's not terribly meaningful or "fulfilling" these days, but I don't really expect it to be those things anymore. It provides a good living and keeps me busy, but doesn't really define me in any way. I think that's a healthy attitude to have toward a job. And I suppose that's a development, a change. I used to live and breathe my job, and it was eating me up. This is no longer the case, and that's a really good thing.

So, yes. 2006 was a year that really mattered for me. The usual superlatives don't really apply. It wasn't a "great" year or an "awful" year, although it had great parts and awful parts. But one thing is certain: For the first time I can remember, I feel like I really used Every Little Bit of the time I had in this year, and used it well. I spent 12 months consuming my time here on Earth with great big gluttonous bites. It was hard, sometimes exhausting, often painful. But looking back over the year I know I didn't waste a second of it. This is the first year in a while where I know, without question, that I lived each and every moment as fully as I could. And if that's not the definition of a good year, then I don't really know what is.

So, in closing, a quotation. At Adrianne's memorial celebration, Alan noted that one of Adrianne's favorite phrases, and the one by which she built so much of her world view and approach to life, was this bit from Auntie Mame:

"Live! Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death."

I think that sums up 2006 for me. And that ain't too shabby. God willing, 2007 will hold more of the same for me, and I hope that it holds the same promise for you as well.

Mood: Sleepy, but happy
Now Playing: Nothing

A Tale of Two Medals

Attended a tournament today with the entire family. Trevor and Christine's first tourney ever. Stories there, but not right now. Briefly, everyone returned home with a bit of sparkly stuff, and some tears were shed nonetheless.

I came home with two medals. Here's a brief synopsis of the events leading to each.

1. Forms.

Advance to 5th gup two or so weeks ago. Immediately learn Pyang Ahn Sa Dan. Practice it like mad, in the morning at the gym and, at night at the dojang during regular class, and then during post-holiday/pre-tournament prep sessions. Obsess about each and every detail of the form, stressing out about the many small ways in which you could mess this thing up. Think about the form night and day. Worry and fret, but get the form solid and looking good. Attend the tournament. Get about a quarter of the way through the form, wobble on a single kick, and flake out. Start freaking out about your mistake. Forget one kick shortly thereafter, without realizing it, and spend the rest of the form trying to figure out why everything feels screwed up.

Tie for third, missing first by .1 point, and grab a bronze medal.

2. Sparring.

When registering to participate in the tournament, decide that you're going to just take it easy and not bother sparring during this tournament. After all, you've been doing physical therapy for two months for an injury you incurred while sparring back in October, so why tempt fate and risk re-injuring yourself? I mean, you're not even all that crazy about sparring all-in-all, so why push it? Show up, but bring your pads along just in case you change your mind. Run into KSM Sawyer on the way in, who persuades you to spar since there are so few guys in your age and rank range competing that day anyhow. Hit the ring after blowing your form, assuming that you'll just get your ass kicked but not really all that worried about it. Wind up getting a tie, then winning first place in a sudden-death re-match.

Win gold. Shake head in amusement.

So, lesson learned. Let's see if I can actually apply it in the upcoming year.

On another note altogether, one of the judges told me I looked way too young for my group. Specifically, while taking a rest break after tying on our first match, she told me I was lucky that I was allowed 30 seconds rest between matches since that was usually only allowed for seniors (that being anyone over 35). I told her, with a huge smile that a) I was 39 (to which she did the "Are you kidding me?" face...) and b) she was my favorite person in the entire world. I swear, someone could have taken the top of my head off with a side kick and I would still have felt it was a good day.

Mood: Happy, proud, tired, buzzed
Now Playing: Nothin'

Loose Ends

I'm in a bit of a dark mood today. Trying to pull myself out of it, but so far I'm still kinda glum. Partly it's the now-familiar post-testing comedown. I was so edgy and amped up for this last test that I knew I was going to have a bit of a gray fog for a day or two after, but this one is a bit different.

I had this really vivid dream this morning. In it, I was initially at a Tang Soo Do tournament of some sort. It was odd, as there didn't seem to be any actual competing going on -- it was more of a social function. I remember sitting and eating with Master's Nunan and Riley, speaking briefly with Kwan Jhang Nim and meeting several fellow martial artists who I've never actually met face-to-face. This is hardly an unusual dream, really -- over the past few months my Tang Soo Do friends and family have been taking a more prominent place in my dream-life.

But then it got kind of weird. In the dream, my son Trevor was misbehaving and I told him to stop. Just as I did this, some guy at the table (who looked like a guy who recently started training at our dojang, but who wasn't "him" in the dream, you know?) told me that I should slap him in the head if he acts up. And I distinctly recall how angry this made me feel, and in the dream I came up out of my seat and got three inches from his face and stared him the eye and said "If you ever try to tell me how to raise my kids again, I swear to God I will kick your ass from here to the street and back again." The guy backed down, and then I got up and walked away from the table and suddenly, in the way dreams do, the location changed.

I was now on a sort of patio that was perched atop the stump of an enormous tree, at least 30 feet wide. And my old friend Mike McCrea was there, sitting at a table and he we sat down to have a drink. Now, I haven't seen or talked to Mike is almost 20 years. We were very close in high school, and he was probably the first "best friend" I ever had who was a guy, the first guy who I was close enough to hug and say "I love you" to without worrying whether that looked and sounded "gay" or not. At 17 that was a big deal -- the whole "what if someone thinks I'm gay?" idiocy that teenage boys go through, and so many of them never really outgrow as men. Now it seems so damn stupid.

Anyway, somewhere along the way -- either due to distance (he was in WA, I was in NY) or simply to the divergent paths our lives took -- we lost touch. I remember the last time I spoke to him -- it was just a week or so prior to the beginning of the Desert Storm back in Bush I's reign, and about 6-8 months after the last time I'd seen him, at his wedding in Tacoma (I was one of his groom's men). He called kind of out of nowhere and, after we chatted for a while, he intimated that he would probably be out of touch for a while, and that he couldn't really say why. He was a West Point graduate and an officer with the Army, so I have no doubt that he wound up going over there.

After that, we never spoke again. I doubt anything "bad" happened to him -- I think I would have heard had he been wounded or killed. Instead, I figure he just got busy with his life, and being on opposite sides of the country made things complicated. Newlywed, probably sent overseas, and very on-track for a successful career once he returned. And I was never very good at keeping in touch in those days, way too wrapped up in my own college-aged crap to write letters or pick up telephones.

So we just ... never spoke again.

I really regret that, now. I've tried to track him down, tentatively, via the internet, but really haven't ever found anything. I'm not sure that I'd get back in touch if I found him -- it's been far too long, and it would be very, very awkward.

But I hate loose ends.

So, anyway, in the dream we just chatted, and talked about old times. The details of that part are fuzzy, but it was nice. Warm. And it seemed so real, and I remember thinking in the dream that this was a good thing, that it was nice to be back in touch with someone I'd lost touch with so long ago, to finally tie up this loose end in a positive way. And then, Mike said he was going to have to go, and we had to climb down, over the railing of the patio, as there was no staircase. And in the dream I remember very specifically that I lowered myself with one arm, and that I was proud to be strong enough to do that without a problem.

And then we were walking along, and I knew that this was going to be the part of the dream where we talked about why we had lost touch. What was it? Was it something I'd said? Were we just too different, he in the military and so focused and together while I was deep in my college slacker phase? Or had we just gone on different roads? And I was so happy that I was finally going to know this, and we were going to get to see what strange and interesting turns our lives had each taken over the past couple of decades. And we were just chatting, heading toward our cars, making a few jokes, edging up to the big questions....

And then, my alarm went off. And as I woke up, my brain started sorting the details of the dream and my conscious mind explained to me, quickly and succinctly, that none of what I'd imagined had happened and that it was just another dream. And I felt the most distinct sense of disappointment, followed by sadness, as it became clear to my waking self that none of that had really happened. And then I got angry, because I really felt like if I'd just slept a few more minutes it would have all been made clear.

So, as a result I've been walking around with something of a dark cloud over my head ever since. Went to the gym this morning to work through it a bit -- I usually skip on Tuesdays because I attend an early class at the dojang so I can train with Christine, but given how close the holidays are getting and how much vacation time I have left I figure I can shave an hour of my work day here and there if I want. Hammered my way through Pyang Ahn Sa Dan and got the movements committed to memory so that I can begin working to polish it up for a competition at the end of the month. And while I felt better after working out, I'm still walking around with this vague sense of loss, weighing on me like a small stone in my chest.

Mood: Kinda down
Now Playing: Patty Griffin, "A Kiss in Time"