The Joy of Moving in a Sequence Well ; Edward Bergham

The Joy of Moving in a Sequence Well

Edward Bergham

I didn't realize that leaving kung-fu behind would haunt me. I assumed that other, bigger things would take the place of it in my life. Sitting alone doing homework late at night I am reminded that my body is honed weapon. So I go to the bathroom, and I move in a sequence, and I do it well. I have forgotten how many of the techniques that I practiced tirelessly go. I no longer remember how to preform my katas, or even my style specific bow for my hun-gar sai form. I sink deep into my horse stance and throw powerful kicks with muffled kiai's, trying hard not to wake up other people in the dorm. Two ninjas leap from behind the stalls throwing palm strikes at my head. I avoid and crescent kick both of them. Sometimes when I go back to my room, I will turn to something I own, and punch it hard, sinking my weight to deliver the full force of the blow. I often move around the bathroom of the dorm alternating between stances that are so close to me that I merely think what it feels like, and it happens. I imagine myself in the tournament hall, the eyes of the judges fixated on my every move, and my terrible, incorrect movement sequence, gives me joy.