Fencing Bear at Prayer

6:07 CST, 4:07 PST Sleepless in San Jose, waiting for it to be morning so that I can fence my first event in the Summer Nationals. Define competition. A test. An ordeal. A proof. Of what? My coach promises me that this year will be different from last, when I fenced so badly I did not even make the cut for the D-Es in either of my events. This was less surprising in Div IA, against many of the strongest fencers in the country, most at least a decade, even two younger than I and, therefore, simply stronger and faster; but it was devastating in Veteran 40 because every other time I had fenced the same women that year, I had done significantly better. Will it be different this year? Does it matter? I did not go to the qualifiers for Div IA this year, so I did not even give myself the chance to be able to fence in that event, but I did go to the qualifiers for Div II/III and did not make the cut for the national event. Does this mean that my coach has lied to me or, more charita...

A friend of mine who has been following my posts of late has been anxious to remind me that fencing is not something that you can learn by reading a book . In his words: "Fencing is so 3-D and reactive it is impossible to articulate into book learning." Rather, it is something one learns only by doing, more particularly, through the physical lessons that we have with our coach: "Everything you will need to learn about fencing he will teach you. There is no need to look elsewhere." Fencing, of course, is not the only activity to suffer this limitation. Tennis, knitting, singing, playing a musical instrument, walking, speaking a language, prayer: none of these activities is accessible to us in any way other than through practice itself. Far from being able to teach us "how to", books of themselves cannot even teach us how to read, as any one who has gone to a library and picked up a book without knowing the relevant conventions of translating phonemes...

It may be hard to believe from what I said yesterday , but I am actually feeling quite hopeful again today. This, I am hoping, is one of the benefits of sharing these reflections with you on a blog. When I am writing for academic purposes, too much of the day-to-day experience of learning about prayer is subsumed into an overarching, polished argument. Under such circumstances, it is easy to forget the days on which hope seemed impossible, just as on those hopeless days, it is difficult to remember reasons for joy. What is it that gives me hope today that I could not remember yesterday? Well, it isn't just that I am rested after yesterday's practice because I actually woke up feeling just as angry with myself as I had been when I went to sleep last night. Nor is it that I started to recall the strong actions I made in yesterday's bouts, despite the final scores. I could remember those at the time, but they did not offset the sense of frustration and lack of control ov...

One of the things that I hoped would happen if I started keeping this blog was that I would somehow avoid feeling the way that I am feeling right now, after practice, having lost a bout to one of my clubmates that, in my pride*, I feel that I "ought" to have won. Well, there goes that theory! What is vexing me now is that my friend told me afterwards that she had been reading my blog and found what I said about being fully on the strip, not worrying about anything other than the action of the moment, really helpful** and that she had been thinking about this while we were bouting. And, indeed, she fenced very well and quite appropriately won. Throughout the bout, she stayed relaxed but focused, such that even when the score reached 10-14 against her, she was able to play each touch, one at a time, and come back and win the final touch with the score tied. On the one hand, I am encouraged (not to mention, flattered) that she found what I wrote made sense and was able to ap...