Blades

Sword practice on a street corner

There's a twenty minute wait between bus rides on my way to college. Each morning I casually walk around the building, pull a wooden practice blade from the bushes where I've hidden it, and move out onto a little open space on the sidewalk to practice my strokes.  

An asian woman walks past. As always I am dancing with my shadow and my sword. Each image becomes a movement in my blade.
"What is you doing that?" She asks.
"say again?" I query in return.
"What is you doing that?" She repeats. I try to answer both possible interpretations at once. 
"I'm practicing swordfighting."
"Oh" She walks off.

A smiling couple drives by, then stops, and pulls up to the sidewalk where I'm standing, doing dainty parries with my blade. I move back - slowly spinning my sword, waiting for them to get out and walk off. They keep smiling at me. I watch them out of the corner of my eye. Finally the woman rolls down her window."Do you accept donations?" she asks. I have to think about it for a moment."---sure?"She presses three quarters into my palm

The usual pattern is to stare. People drive past oblivious, or gaze, slightly awed at my movements as they pass. A few people are special, they'll pause a moment to admire, ask a question, arch a brow. These people are the ones I'm interested in - the innovators - not afraid to ask questions, not afraid of standing out from the crowd. 

I spent several summers with these people in years long past. I've spent entire days from morning till dusk haunting dark passages in the bunkers near where I lived. I did it for the delight of frightening, the swell of delight, the gratification of seeing smiles and laughter that I'd caused - but most of all I did it because I was looking for the special ones. I found a few. How do you react to a ghost? How do you respond to a master of blades? Most people pretend they don't see - pretend I'm not there. Most people laugh nervously and try not to see. These people are weak. I seek the strong.

The strong extend their hand and seek to know the horror that would frighten them. Disgust doesn't twitch at their lips for a creature that's other than any they've ever seen before, rather interest at the insight this creature may bring. They befriend, they ask, they imitate, and through interaction they bring strength. That's why they're strong. Yet I wonder often, could the weak be strong, or must they build a lesser strength before they achieve the greater? I sought the greatest strength of all - I tried to befriend the gods - and they destroyed me. Perhaps those who don't pause, can't pause. Perhaps to pause would mean utter annihilation. it would mean dancing with the unknown and perhaps the unknown really would destroy them.

My dance, my dance with a blade, is a dance with the unknown, a dance with utter annihilation. As I practice swordfighting I am practicing forms to serve me when the unexpected strikes. when an opponent slashes at my side I cannot afford to think - I must act, and act on instincts made a hundred times. The weak lack forms - they ignore or stare. the strong act on instincts only discipline can build.

A man drives by in a truck - he looks over for a moment and sees me there, spinning my blade. His hands leave the steering wheel for an instant to strike a kung-fu pose. he passes. I am left incredulous for a moment, then burst out laughing. Perfect response, split second form. He made my day.

Two boys who live in the house next door walk bye.  "Cool stuff man - mind if we watch?" I would love it if you watched, yet watch too long and you'll see I'm just repeating the same basic forms. "I'm not doing anything interesting - but sure."  I flash a grin. Later I hand them the blade and teach them the simplest twirl.

A group of teenagers walk bye. They pause. "Can I try?" I flip the sword so the handle points towards him. They swing it around and laugh as each drops it in turn. What if they hadn't laughed but scorned instead? What if that fear had kept the boy from from asking? Could it be that fear can only stand aside when scorn can be taken with grace? Yet is this an excuse to fear? To acknowledge fear, but constantly test it and see if it can be pushed aside. I batter my fear with my blade. One day each will fall aside. Even my fear of the gods.

Two girls walk my way. I watch them out of the corner of my eye, moving into more complicated twirls. They turn at the block. I return to the simple parries I'm trying to pound into my arms. I turn to see the girls turn onto the street. They went around the block to avoid me? Why?!

A young man strides past. "Cool - can you do it with your other hand?" I spin the blade behind my back and transfer it out with my left. "Nice" He walks on. I smile. Questions. The strong ask questions. They confront their fears. They build instincts that serve them and make others laugh, but most of all they're never afraid to ask questions.