Spin kicks after sunrise

Concentrate, concentrate... you're going to jump, spin, kick, land and front kick forward. But first punch...maybe punch again.


Reality: The jump worked, the spin worked, and the kick worked. But landing back on the ground I faced the reality of not being centered and did a lopsided kick forward.

Then I felt the silent judgement of the kids on the open futbol field.
Though I doubt their judging is on my technique, I pretended it was.
Until next time.

Yesterday, while I took a break from class, I stared into nothing and opened my heart. In each beat I remembered the sense of power from my breath. I felt the energy rush from my chest into the palms of my hands.

And I punched the air with joy.

I have a strange enjoyment in fighting, because, though it might not be the same emptying feeling I get after praying, it's a reaffirming feeling I get when my breath falls in line with my body and I lay naked between the self and the physical realm. It makes me feel real.

There at the field today, when I decided to continue this desire into the early morning before class, I remembered how scary it was to be confident enough to tell myself I'm going to practice expressing myself out in the open. And watching those eyes on me from passerbys, probably shaking their head at that crazy brown possible mzungo, I told myself that it was time to not care and just focus on what I can do. And man, I felt real.

I'm not as homesick as I might've been, if I let myself feel it, but more importantly, I realize the importance of being on my own and enjoying what I do. I don't have to spend sleepless nights preparing for events (not yet at least), but I can just retire early, wake up early in the morning, study, say hello to family, and express myself in the most bare way possible and just be okay being me and being one with my heart.

To end the day, I carved "life is beautiful" on the wooden table at the bar we all hang out. I'm not sure if that was my actual sentiment at the time, or just an act in defiance to any inactive gloom I face. But it's done and the words and actions in making them exist, just like the punches I threw in the foggy first light.

And I encourage you to do the same.

Within the first hour of meeting Louis, I got to witness his passion of swimming, and after leaving Maungu I met a friend of his who told me how Louis would often disappear into the Indian Ocean for hours at a time, swimming, and swimming. This was a man who devoted his two years to women groups, school children, and farmers, yet there in the water, it was his time and his focus.

I respect that a lot, because I'm pretty sure I've been guilty of having no focus, and embarrassed of letting my passion of martial arts get in the way of what I'm supposed to do.
But honestly, at 7 am, is just waiting for class really what I'm supposed to do? I have time because I can make time, and so can you all.


Do you remember your passions? It's not too late, it's never too late. What makes you focused? What makes you laugh. Believe me, even in a situation where you're constantly bombarded with the new and the uncertain, it helps you help others to just remember yourself a bit.