Some Showers Take Longer Than Others

You know those weekends that just make you love life? Yeah. Those are great, ain't they?

You know those Mondays after the weekends that you love so much? Yeah... I hate those...

I am not, nor have I ever been, by any stretch of the imagination, a morning person. So you can imagine how hard MONDAY mornings hit me. Admittedly, it could be a lot worse. I mean, relatively speaking, my life has been well-nigh idyllic. My family loves me dearly, I have an AMAZING girlfriend, my friends rock the world, I have a great home, and I have an incredible imagination which has fueled most of the passions, skills and talents in my life.

One of the things I love most about my house is the shower. I know, kinda mundane, most homes have them, so what? I don't care that the majority of the world, much less America, has also experienced the glorious-ness that is my morning ritual, without which I can barely function. It's a lovely way to wake up when the day is cold and the bed is warm, providing enough movement to get the body awake without administering a system-wide SHOCK.

My morning shower is often a time for my own quiet reflection. I think about lots of things. God, life, love, music, friends and school top the list. Many times, since I am not a morning person, I am depressed. The shower provides a lovely little escape pod that I can enjoy while I muster up whatever courage and fortitude it will take to face the day. Sometimes it involves taking whatever worries I've held onto from yesterday and letting them wash away in blissful liquid warmth. Other times, my shower becomes a place of repentance, thinking about things I should not have done or thought, and how to go about making up for whatever ground I may have lost in my own conscience, and how to avoid making the same mistakes over again. Occasionally, the shower is a source of enormous vitality, springing me to life with the first touch of water. These are regrettably the rarest types of showers, but I suppose that makes them all the more valuable.

Depending on what kind of day I had previously, or whatever craziness happens to be running through my mind, it may take a longer time for me to get up the motivation to shut off the faucet and step out into the world. This morning's shower took a long time. Mondays are always the worst. "Weekend's over, school today. Oh yeah, remember that book review due on Friday you haven't started yet? Yeah, might wanna get on that. Laundry might be a good idea, too. You don't want to run out of underwear again. Oh, and DON'T put off cleaning your room. That's gonna take a century to get through without all the other stuff you'll have to juggle. But she's worth it, ain't she? Yeah, of course she is, that and a heck of a lot more. How much more? Worth- WHOA now, don't go there yet. Preparation, man, preparation! And besides, there's still a lot of things to iron out between you. You know, those annoying little differences that aren't really important, but they keep needling at you and won't go away...

"You're gonna be late for class..."

Sigh................

My Night With God!

Last Sunday night, I was down in the dumps, and was talking to a friend of mine. Mostly about relationships and my lack of one, and how I longed for one, and my friend kept going on about me trusting God, and feeling secure in Him... because I don't. There was a lot more said, and most of it was very convicting. Towards the end of it, I simply felt like crying... but that was a good thing. So I told my friend I wanted to cry about this, and they said alright, but they prayed for me first.

At first, all I did was cry... I'm not entirely sure why. I think I just wanted to feel loved, so I begged for it. I just sobbed my heart out like I rarely have before, and let the tears flow.

BUT I WAS ANSWERED! I have NEVER felt such a feeling before! I have been a Christian most of my life, but I have rarely, if ever, felt such a presence! I was held, and I was comforted by what I felt was nothing less than the Creator! I'm also fairly certain there was at least one angel there, but I was in a state of shocked awe at the time, so I can barely account for any of my feelings or thought processes going on. I simply cried and cried and kept on crying, sitting on the floor, curled up into a ball, incoherently talking to God. Mostly, I was simply thanking Him for what I was experiencing, and didn't want to stop. Eventually, though, things got messy, so I stood to go to the bathroom, but it was dark, and I got scared. So I told God my fear as I went into the bathroom and turned on the light and the sink, and I loved the feel of clear, cold water in my hands and on my face. Briefly, it flashed into my head that water was a powerful symbol, depicting the purity of the soul after its sins are washed away.

And it was there, I began to fight. I began verbally rebuking whoever, whatever I was afraid of, invoking the name of Christ over and over again, and then I knew its name! It was Despair, and I ordered him to leave me, in the name of Christ, leave me and my family and never come back. It took a while, but I kept fighting, and eventually I won.

I don't know how I knew that he had gone, but I am certain that he left, and I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror, wondering if my eyes were ever really that blue, or only after I cried. It sounds so vain to say it now, but I will say that my heart was pounding, but not in fear, and I was able to hold my back straighter than I have in a very long time.

I had WON! This feeling, this triumph, was something I have always dreamed of, but never imagined would feel so powerful! This absolute feeling of unadulterated victory made me positively dizzy, and it took me quite a while to come down off the high, during which I called my friend back and told them everything, and then went inside to wake my mother and tell her, too.

So now I know! Having been a martial artist for so long, I understand what it feels like to win. I remember and revel in the feel of goosebumps and chills on my skin, when the adrenalin is rushing like a river, and my heart is pounding, the beat of my blood loud in my ears. But this is all physical. What I experienced tonight was entirely spiritual and emotional, and as I have said before, it was so much HIGHER than anything I could have ever dreamed!

I now have a night that I can look back at and say "I have fought, and I have won. THIS is freedom. THIS is the power and victory that God grants us through the sacrifice of his Son!" I now consider myself a warrior in a way I never thought of before, and it is my fervent prayer that everyone in my life someday experiences this feeling, too! I swear to you, it will blow your mind!

Oh, Don't I Wish

This is just a rant that feels good to write. I'm feeling nostalgic. I realized the date this morning, and remembered why I realized it.

A year ago today, I flew home from my last trip to Colorado. One year ago was the last time I saw the woman I loved; the last time I kissed her, held her, held her hand, held her head, stroked her hair, brushed her face.

She moved on almost immediately. I was stunned at how fast she fell in love again, but I don't begrudge her that. Having talked with the guy, I know he's nice enough, and I like him, which doesn't surprise me.

I've made some progress. I don't miss her anymore, per se. We've talked a few times since then, and I like to think we're still friends. She's not trying to grind anything in my face, and I'm not trying to be bitter or jealous. What I really miss, what I truly do long for, is being in love.

I'm too much of a romantic for my own good. I begin to think that being a romantic has brought me nothing but heartache. I begin to think my hopes for life are impossibly high, and that I should just give in and come back down to Earth; stop all this crazy daydreaming. I'm not going to become some swashbuckling hero. I'll probably never get to use the skills I know for anything useful. No rescuing fair damsels in distress with martial arts or European weapons. It just doesn't happen. Hollywood is fiction, and it's interesting because reality is boring.

It's all so durn metaphorical! My dragon is school, my sword is knowledge, and supposedly, there's some maiden somewhere out there that's waiting for me to come meet her, or is looking for me, too... yeah, right. Whatever.

And what really stinks about this whole thing is that as much as I complain about the way things are, I KNOW that all this complaining isn't going to do any good at all... but it does feel good to write.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to comment, if you like.

Thoughts on a life

It’s one-thirty in the morning, and I have rarely been affected by the Friday evening before an event as I have this one. Crown List shall be held tomorrow inside the fort, and most of the pavilions of the contestants have already been set up.
I had thought that since I will most likely never fight in Crown List, I would step onto the field alone, and see if I could touch the power inherent in the field. There, under the stars, surrounded by pennons and emblems, I was able to sense an incredible aura. It spoke to me, of the courage and strength of warriors who were trained for battle, and longed for honor as they longed for nothing else with every beat of their hearts. I breathed deep the feeling of majesty, and reveled in it. Turning, I found I was not alone.
It was James. He also had come to contemplate the coming contest, and we talked briefly of it, about the sense of honor and duty that should be inherent in every armed encounter. Crown List is somewhat special, but it was his goal to meet each and every opponent with the same respect and reverence as he did on this field, and thus turn every fight into more than just an exchange of blows, but also a show of respect, and challenge. I will never forget what he told me. “Word fame is the coinage we trade, and it’s up to you to fill your pocket.”
He left shortly thereafter, but I lingered, climbing to the top of the fort so that I could enjoy the view of the coppery moon, very low in the horizon, which was eventually obscured by clouds. I thought deeply about this game we play, this dream we serve, this life we choose to lead. Most of us, myself included, are looking for something. What?
Escape from dull routine, the rut that becomes daily life; the rigors and toils of thankless jobs; a world without an understanding of our deepest desires (or even a want to understand them)… or more?

The opportunities for learning are literally limitless! The number of crafts alone are mind boggling, with nearly every material that can be thought of being made into almost anything that can be imagined:
Brewing various drinks like mead, ale or wine
Leatherwork into things like bottles, armor, bags and pouches, belts, boots and shoes, quivers and armguards, and even seats for stools!
Woodworking and carpentry for all types of furniture, such as beds, tables and chairs, cups and plates, tool and weapon handles, or musical instruments
Blacksmithing, or forging metals into weapons, armor, utensils, other tools, buckles and jewelry
Weaving things like flax into linen, to be used to make clothes, or knitting wool into things like scarves, sock, gloves, hats or bags, or making rope from hemp

And there are so many others, like working with glass, or beads, and many, many other crafts… but what about those of us who don’t so much make as do?
The various forms of combat with weapons such as the sword, spear or glaive, and what I refer to as the Timeless Arts, learning to throw knives, axes and spears, and the sport of archery
In music, one can learn to play, sing or dance to period tunes
Or, if one desires to learn more about what life was like way back when, there is an infinite and inexhaustible amount or resources for whatever research one feels like, from certain people in specific areas in a particular time frame (what was life like for the typical Cheshire peasant in 1130? What did he do for work? For fun? What did he wear? Believe?) to rough overviews on the long term effects of key events, or the circumstances leading up to them (What events led up to the Christian army trapping itself into the disaster of Hattin? How did the Magna Carta shape the world after 1215? Where did John Wycliffe get his inspiration, and who did he inspire, and what did they do, and who did they inspire, etc. ad infinitum!).

So the question remains… Why serve this dream? Why play this game? Why live this way?
For me, there is a search, yes; for learning, yes, for escape, in a way, but more for adventure! In the SCA, chivalry thrives, and one’s life is what they make of it, no matter what your background. Train for combat, learn a trade, know the camaraderie that comes from an honest-to-goodness feast, and experience romance in a dance where the only times you touch your partner are when you hold hands or link arms.
And in adventure can be found great things: skill, honor, loyalty, friendship and even love. But perhaps most of all, one finds themselves.
What am I capable of? What things will I learn, or learn to do, or make? How much honor can I win? How far will my name spread, and what will I do to make it known?
“Word fame is the coinage we trade, and it’s up to you to fill your pocket.”
No man knows the future. All he can do is live it.

A day's journal

I found that picture earlier today, and I thought it appropriate, considering I went back to a Herb Parson's shoot for the first time this year, and could hardly have asked for more! The day was bright, the sun was out, I was shooting my longbow with my father, and best of all, the forest has returned! I don't think I shot particularly well, but at least I was shooting, and I know what to work on the next time I practice.

For most of the rest of the day, I was with dear friends of mine, and at first, we talked stories. We brainstormed ideas for everything ranging from character development, works in progress, future ideas and plot twists. It was much fun, and I look forward to participating more regularly, now.

When I finally left, I came home and started spending time with family, something we as a family have not done for a while, considering Dad's in Ohio working on his plane most of the time and my brother's at college near Nashville; but they're both at home for now, and it's a great experience.

God bless, they're so durn FUNNY! It's one of the things I'm jealous of, concerning my brother. He has this incredible wit and an insanely innate sense of timing. Sparring him is a nightmare. Im reasonably sure I'm faster than him, but he sits back and defends himself, waiting for me to present him with an opening that I'm certain he knows is coming before I do. It's infuriating!

But I love him anyway, and dad too. He's where my brother and I got so many habits and mannerisms I love to watch. One only wonders what they're going to be like in the future! Here's to hoping my children inherit all the good things too.

Come With Me...

This past weekend saw the return of my beloved pastime, that glorious sport that consists of wandering into the woods with a quiver on my back and a longbow in my hand.

I was in Arkansas again. I know, the second time in two weeks, but hey, three hours isn’t really that far. This time, I was there specifically for an archery shoot. There were many people there, and the weather could hardly have been more perfect. There was a slight breeze, but I never saw it really affect our arrows. I was shooting with an SCA friend of mine and his six year old grandson. Kolr (pronounced “Cole”) is undoubtedly the finest archer in the kingdom of Gleann Abhann, but this was a mundane shoot.

It strikes me that almost every archery shoot I have attended has been populated with some of the friendliest people I have ever met, and I cannot help but wonder if that is because the sport of archery attracts that sort of people, or the forest attracts that sort, or a combination of the two of them. In any case, no matter how badly I shot, I could tell almost instantly that I was going to have fun (which I almost always do when I shoot anyway).

It was not Sun Tzu, but a contemporary Chinese man of that time that said “When an archer is shooting for enjoyment, he has all his skill. When he shoots for a brass buckle, he becomes nervous, and when he shoots for a prize of gold, he begins to see two targets.” That lesson has been ingrained in my head for years, and I credit it more than anything else with being able to shoot as well as I do. When you have fun, you do your best, and when you have fun, it encourages you to practice, which means more skill, which means more fun, which encourages practice, which means more skill, etc. ad infinitum!

I was having fun, which meant I was shooting very well. Better than I had hoped or thought I would do! There were thirty targets, and if our first shot missed, we were allowed to shoot a second arrow. I only had to do so once. A perfect score was 300, and my goal was to break 200, though I would have been perfectly happy with 150. When we finished, and my score was finally tallied, my jaw dropped. I had shot a 236.

After that first time around the course, Kolr drove his grandson home, and I was left at the shoot for a while. A man named Rocky had already been around once and was looking for people to go around again with him, so I volunteered. This time, I did not bring a scorecard, knowing I would do much better.

And I did. Rocky and I had a good time, shooting and talking politics, education and archery. He was shooting a recurve, and also hoped to break 200, but had shot a 186 with his longbow. I did not tell him my score right off.

By the time we hit target number 28, I felt I could snuff a candle from 30 feet. I shot my arrow, it scored well, and Rocky said “You should have brought a scorecard.” I told him that I had not because I knew I would be doing better this time, and I did not want to beat myself up, thinking “Now WHY couldn’t I have shot this well the first time around?!”

To which he finally asked me my score. Sheepishly, I admitted it, and he teased me for having held out on him. “Shooting a 236 with a traditional longbow and wooden arrows!”

When we got back to the clubhouse, Kolr handed me a second-place medal. Of the five other shooters in my division (men’s traditional longbow) only one had scored higher than me, a 255, and my closest competition was 202.

There were 53 shooters in the competition that shot targets from the same distance I did. Only fourteen of them scored better than me, one of them being Kolr (247). The high score of the day was 270, but I hasten to point out that of those fourteen, only one was in my division (255) and another used a more primitive version of my bow (242). All the rest were using either modern take-down longbows (where you had the option of shooting wooden, aluminum or carbon arrows) or recurves (which, in my opinion, are easier to shoot anyway).

I am proud of how well I did, but more than that, I am happy to have spent so much time shooting and wandering the woods again with such good company. Part of the magic of archery is its resilience. The art is so widespread, having been practiced by nearly every culture in the world. The art is so old, dating back to Biblical times, and yet we have it still! From the fields of France and the forests of Wales to a little walking trail just north of Conway, Arkansas, the men of the bow have survived despite the decline of their use in combat.

(Incidentally, I learned that the last instance of a longbow being used in a combative sense was as late as 1940! An English officer, Captain Jack Churchill, who had competed in Oslo at the World Championships, happened to have his bow with him and killed a German soldier with it at something like 30 yards. Before that, in 1791, two men stood apart from each other for a duel and each fired three arrows. No blood was drawn.)

I shoot well because I enjoy shooting so much. I enjoy shooting for many reasons, and one of them is because it’s so simple, and yet it’s results, when compounded, can be absolutely devastating!

I have noted before that I enjoy the feeling of knowing that on this day, somewhere on Earth, exactly a thousand years before me, someone exactly like me was doing the exact same thing, whether it be sitting around a campfire with my friends telling jokes and stories or singing songs, or throwing axes, knives or spears, or making a new bowstring, or yes, shooting my longbow. I revel in this feeling, this connection with a past that is mine because I share a tradition with it. It is my time travel into History, and I am always eager to introduce someone else to this magnificent experience that is traditional archery.

Why not you?

Walk with me.

Journey by my side, and I will show you a world a classroom can never show you. Instead of looking at History, step into History, and I promise you, it will come alive as you would never have believed.

Weekends SO rock.

Well, the other foot finally fell. I was afraid it would, and I'd been waiting for it, so it wasn't quite as bad as it might have been, but it still happened.

Not surprisingly, it happened on a Sunday night and continues now into Monday morning. I'm not a morning person. I hate Mondays outright. Ergo, you can imagine how much I loathe the idea of Monday mornings.

But I'm starting out wrong. In order for one foot to fall, the other has to have fallen already. That was the good part.

Friday night was bar-none one of the best nights of my life. It wasn't really because I went to se a movie with friends. It's because I was having fun with EIGHT of my best friends all at the same time! We went to see Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, which is a prequel to the other two Underworld movies. It's very good; could have been better, but the point is that I was with friends. Afterwards, we went out to IHOP and spent some good times talking about lots of things and being goofy like we always manage to somehow be. It really was a night of great memories I'll cherish as long as I live.

Sunday was another really good day, too! Chris, Hutch, Ashley, Nick and I went out to some land owned by Hutch's grandfather to shoot. And we shot a LOT. For just the handguns, there was my Norinco 1911, Chris's .50 Desert Eagle, Hutch's pair of Kimber 1911's, a .357 and a Taurus .44 magnum AMONG OTHERS!

There were big guns, too. The smallest was my Ruger .22 semi-automatic. Chris brought a Benelli 12-gauge pump action as well as an AK-47 and an M-4. Hutch also brought an AK-47 as well as a double barrelled break action 12-gauge with an 18 inch barrel and a bullpup, and there were others I can't quite call to mind, but my absolute favorite was his synthetic-stocked, fluted-barrelled, 5-shot bolt action .308 Kimber sniper rifle... with scope!

There were some interesting targets, too! Apples, cabbages, squash and coconuts make lovely exploding things to shoot at. We also learned that while the aluminum casing of a computer MAY repel birdshot, it's like paper for double-aught buck shot. There were also many clay pigeons for the shotgun shooters, and there were pictures taken all day long. You can see them on Facebook.

But all of that was the good foot. I knew I had to come down off the high because I had school the next day, and I had to start thinking about other responsibilities of my life. I have a myriad of projects to do for the SCA as well as testing for my fourth degree in March to think about. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be able to get it all done, and I'm scared to death that I'm not going to be able to satisfy everyone.

The really bittersweet moment came late Sunday night when I had one of those soul-searching conversations. It was a good conversation, and I'm glad it was had. I just wish it had been on some other night than SUNDAY!

Growth

I was struck this afternoon by a thought I probably should have been struck by a long time ago.

At the time, I was daydreaming. I know, big shocker, right? But hey, I'd been brainstorming about my online RPG character. He's big on martial arts, and I was wondering what kind of weaponry he would prefer/would be proficient with. What I came up with was an interesting conglomeration of modern military and ancient Japan. The .308 sniper rifle and handgun tactics would be most of the modern stuff. The more ancient arts are the blades and staff: tactical knife fighting and throwing, perhaps throwing stars, maybe blowguns, but most definitely, the exquisite art called "Battojutsu" which basically encompasses the unarmed Samurai arts of judo, aikido and jujitsu as well as kenjutsu and iaijutsu, the sword arts.

As all of this went through my head, I remembered what I had read and learned about martial arts, in particular the teachings of the sword arts: that physical lessons are important, but are not the most relevant lessons to be learned. That was when I was struck by the aforesaid thought that I should have been struck by a long time ago.

One cannot improve the body without improving the mind.

There are two reasons for this. One, it is unavoidable. When the body is exercised, the flow of blood encourages the harmony of all muscles, including the brain and its functions. Exercising also produces the pleasant side-effects that accompany a sense of accomplishment, which typically improves one's mood, which is also very healthy. So you see, all of them are tied together one way or another, and influences are very easy to manipulate. The next time you feel down in the dumps and don't have any better ideas, try some exercise!

The second reason that one cannot improve the body without improving the mind is that it is unwise. A strong body without a mature mind is a loose cannon, shifting wildly back and forth with emotional extremes. If one is an expert marksman but does not know where to aim, one is not only ineffective and of little use, but also dangerous, and a hazard to everyone, including himself.

Besides, when it comes right down to it, a warrior's greatest weapon is nothing he can lay his hands on or do with his own body, but his mind.

I go back to school on Monday. I don't look forward to it, but at this point if it would help me graduate faster, I'd clean every bathroom on campus with nothing but a toothbrush and my own spit.

That would be improving the mind. I'll be going back to taekwondo classes this semester, too. I hope to test for my fourth degree in March, and I don't quite feel ready for it yet. Thank God there's time.

That would be improving the body. Only tw things remains un-addressed, which cannot be improved by default by training the body:

The heart and the spirit. Those can only be improved on their own, and luckily, I've for just the right idea for it.