Fencing Bear at Prayer

Yes, I'm still disappointed with myself . Last year, the week after I did so poorly at Nationals, I decided to get my navel pierced, in part because I'd just spent ten days in Miami Beach and had seen how many women (and men!) have had their tummies done and so was thinking, "Why not? My tummy is surely as good as theirs"; in part because I wanted something that I could change about who I was. And, of course, because I think it looks cool. This year, now that the piercing is fully healed,[1] I'm shopping for navel jewelry, but everything I like comes in diamonds and I'm not sure I can persuade my husband that we can afford (sigh) more bling right at this moment. I'm not really interested in getting a tattoo and I don't have any more body parts I'm eager to pierce [2], so I'm thrust back upon my blog and trying to think my way out of the paper bag that is my ego-self. But, oh, how I wish there was something else I wanted to have pierced...

Zen has nothing on fencing for mind-bending paradoxes. Sometimes I think my coaches are doing it deliberately, but then, I'm really not sure. Maybe that's part of the practice, to present students with apparently irreconcilable nuggets of wisdom, like koans with which the students are expected to struggle until enlightenment dawns. Or maybe they're just trying to drive me crazy. For example: "You have to want to win" (suggesting that your desire should be unflinching). But, on the other hand: "Don't be afraid to lose" (suggesting that you should not be fixed on winning because that will distract you from the action at hand). Or: "Set it up" (meaning, entice your opponent into making the action that you want her to so that you can take advantage of her). But, on the other hand: "Don't think so much, just go." Or: "Patience" (meaning, don't just push; give yourself time to gauge your opponent's actions; wa...