Martial arts, ninja tricks, and travel trauma.....

  I don't like to fly; as a matter of fact, I hate it. However, I recently believed I was becoming more zen about the whole process. Just when I thought it was safe to go back to the airport and fly the friendly skies, travel trauma strikes again.

  It's funny how my martial arts training keeps me from embarrassing myself. I recently went to Pittsburgh for a long weekend. I was okay on the flight out, but the return to Denver really tested my patience and my perseverance. For some reason, TSA always plucks me out of the security line to go through the naked scanner. It only happens in Pittsburgh, and it happens every time I go through that airport. It' s as if little bells go off every time I enter the terminal announcing to the security team, "She's baa-aa-ack!" It irritates the heck out of me to be hand picked (so to speak) and be ordered to go through the scanner or face a pat down in front of hundreds of gawking strangers. 

    Just a nanosecond away from a major hissy fit, I faced my opponent and prepared for battle. I found my composure, slowed my breathing, stepped into the offensive machine, and assumed the position. Through my training, I developed the skill of a cold stare. Okay, who am I kidding....I have had that since I was a child. I used that stare as I looked directly ahead of me and continued the laser look at the TSA when they finally waved me through. I probably ought to be a little cautious with that, but I just couldn't help myself. Besides, I was raging inside.

    By the time we boarded, I had calmed myself down and managed to find a happy place. Of course, the glass of wine I had at the bar before boarding helped considerably. We settled into our seats for our connecting flight. My natural good spirits restored, I cheerfully started the countdown to getting to Denver, seeing my dogs, and being in the comfort of my own home. Ahhh, home. I only had three short hours to go.

    Then came the dreaded news: we were number 23rd in line for take off, but no aircraft were able to take off due to storms in the area. For two hours we waited while I sat squished in the middle seat. I again practiced my composure, my breathing, and dodged the elbow strikes that kept coming from both sides. At least it kept me moving. I got the opportunity to practice my ninja disappearing act  when the gentleman next to me tried to make eye contact and engage in conversation. Now if only I could master the disappearing act the next time I go through the naked scanner, maybe it won't bother me so much.

    We finally landed in Denver. As I was getting off the plane, one of the flight attendants apologized for the delay and for taking so long to get us to our destination. I thanked him and said, "At least you got us here in one piece....I give extra points for that." He smiled back at me and said, "What a positive way to look at things." Well, I do prefer looking at the bright side of every situation. But it's going to be awhile before I get on a plane again. At least until I get a bit more proficient at  disappearing. 

Be healthy!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

Sword cuts, patience, and a powerful teacher.

    I bought a sword last weekend. I hadn't planned on buying one, and I certainly hadn't been looking for one. We have been working a lot more with sword cuts in my martial arts class, and I have a nice white oak wooden sword. It's light weight, it's really pretty, and it serves it's purpose.

    But last weekend my husband and I took a drive up to the mountains just to get out of town, even if it was only for a few hours. I was in the mood to go exploring, so we drove up to one of the popular mountain towns just to walk around and check out the shops.

    We walked past a store front, and I said to my husband, "I have to go in here".  He looked at me like I was crazy, but he followed me in the store anyway. It was a knife shop, exactly the type of store I would never enter. But when I walked in, I saw what had drawn me inside. Behind the counter were several swords on display. After handling a few of them, I knew which one was for me. It just felt right. And it was pretty.

    I didn't even take it out of the case for three days. Cautious and careful by nature, I waited until I was at the Dojo and Sensei could help me and teach me a few things. Handling a sword was a lot different from handling a wooden one. He did tell me that the blade was a little too sharp for training purposes and I needed to file it down. I thought he was being just a wee bit melodramatic, but I said okay. I knew I'd get around to it, eventually.

    Two days later we had sword class. There were a lot of students, it was a bit chaotic, and we were moving a quickly through complicated patterns. Losing my focus for a split second, I was trying to sheath my sword in a hurry to catch up with the group and felt a sudden sharp burning pain in my wrist. Uh-oh. Sensei was right. The blade was too sharp. So much for care and caution.

    That was at the beginning of class. I stopped long enough to wash the cut and put a big band aid on it. In the process of cleaning my wound I almost got stuck in the bathroom, because my sword was still in my belt at an awkward angle so my hands could be free. Thank goodness nobody witnessed that fiasco. I did have to ask one of the guys to help me with my band aid, which was demoralizing enough. If I needed help out of the bathroom, I never would have lived that down.

    For the next hour and fifteen minutes, I practiced my sword cuts while the blood from my wrist saturated the band aid. I patiently listened to several of the guys giving me corrections all at the same time. I'm pretty good at taking directions, but only from two or three people at once. Any more than that and I go into sensory overload. But I smiled, bowed, nodded and thanked everyone for their help. Finally class was over. I put my sword away, took my notes and my throbbing wrist to my car, put my head on the steering wheel and burst out laughing.

    I just couldn't help myself. And I couldn't stop laughing. The entire situation was simply too funny. The truth is, the reason why I love sword work is because the sword is a powerful teacher. It is honest; it always tells the truth and it never lies. I believe that I did not find the sword in the mountains that Saturday afternoon. The sword found me. It will continue to teach me patience, humility, honesty, integrity, truth, and humor. But I think I'm already good to go on that last one, don't you?

Be healthy!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP