Globe opens, spills light into
shatters, fine splinters blow in the horn,
rumbling.
deep resonance felt in
every membrane.
Today I decided to take myself to go ice skating. Well, actually, when I was flipping through the TV, I happened upon ice skating and got lured in. Memories, I suppose, of when I used to skate and compete as a young one. The irony is that I sometimes dreaded it: Getting up early morning, tired, and my coaches. One in particular; a man, somewhat grouchy, pushed me—pushed and pushed the fun right out of it, and I didn’t get a thrill out of performing in front of so many strangers and my mother. The irony is that now this deep part of me wants to do it again, wants to compete, wants the coach to push me hard, and wants to perform in front of strangers—as for my mom, she will be there in her own way. The irony is I don’t think I really liked ice skating then, but now I have this odd desire to return. I must say, the desire has been there on and off, but now it seems to be tugging stronger. But in reality, it could only be for fun, for I am way past prime in the world of ice skating.
This is only the second time I’ve taken myself ice skating since I first did so about two years ago. The funny thing is it’s not exactly like learning to ride a bicycle. With so much time having lapsed in between, at least 27 years, the body memory is there, but it’s awkward, wobbly, not immediate. There’s also a certain fear of falling or looking foolish. This time I was less wobbly, but I couldn’t just glide right out there or I’d lose my balance.
I feel a giddiness as I tie up my laces and walk with the heavy skates on my feet. I hold the rail as I walk onto the ice. Then I push off slowly, get the feel for my skates on the ice. I begin to pick up speed, but then I have to slow down because there are so many people on the rink, but at least my body can remember how to stop without falling. As I circle the rink several times, I get more confidence and turn to skate backward ever so briefly, and then I try one simple jump—I can’t even remember the name. It feels good and, I wish I had the rink all to myself, so I could push myself and try all that I remember, and just skate and skate and skate.
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8 comments:
Rebb,
So you're a skater. That must be a great sport. I did a few times, but I was scared. I held onto the bar the whole time.
I went roller skating in junior high, but ice-skating was different. I needed the floor I can count on, so I went to modern dancing. Skating must be exhausting, I can imagine with much sweating.
I feel a profound empathy for what you are saying here. I find parallels within my own life - not in sport, as it happens, but other things which I rebelled against as a child and teenager, which now I appreciate, even though I understand the reasons for rebelling before. I hope you get back and go forward beyond what you ever achieved 27 years ago. Why not?
Oh, Rebb, like the unsaids, the undones or quittings can really haunt us. I´m so happy you wore your skates again!
Keiko,
Yes, I used to skate when I was a young girl. I took lessons when I was about four and progressed into competitive skating, and I believe it stopped when I was about ten or eleven. The memory of when it ended is a little fuzzy. If It was my very first time now, I would hang onto the bar too :)
I was never good on roller skates. One would think that ice skating could easily translate to wheels, but it didn't work for me. Yes, if you skate long and hard, it can be exhausting.
It must have been a very enriching experience to study modern dance.
Vincent,
Thanks for your words. It is a oddity when we seek out that which we rebelled against. Appreciation for many experiences often take time to mature and often we don't know until we know. Yes, why not? Thanks!
Lu, yes, these things do end up haunting us, don’t they…Thank you very much for your cheer. :)
Rebb,
About haunting, I have a similar experience. It's about ocha (tea ceremony). That's why I started to write about my mother about twelve years ago, and keep writing because of it. And I appreciate her because I found what I really like which is writing.
Keiko,
Isn’t it wonderful when we receive these gifts, that may not begin as such, but then over time, we have these moments of appreciation? In a way, I feel similar to my mother and writing in trying to find peace with her and to also understand myself.
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