Wake up and Laugh

On youtube there is a video for the Rage Against the Machine sog 'Wake up', which begins with a picture of Malcolm X, the legendary and radical Muslim American who preached the words 'Anger is a Gift'. The video proceeds to show images mocking American totalitarianism, which are much less relevant.

Malcolm may have had a point. Some fencers run on liquid anger and, in the face of such sheer faith in darkness, even the most level headed and technically adept can be overcome by the power vested in their red-eyed opponent (I direct all to the legendary duel betweeen Masters Yoda and Palpatine- an unresolved and much speculated draw).

So, when faced with others' anger, it is important to force errors in their approach. Make them try too hard or stamp their feet failing to. There is nothing more amusing than watching someone embarass themselves by throwing equipment across rooms and screaming. Crying comes in a close second, with storming out of the room a mediocre third.

I have been angry at things- when a hit just can't quite land, or fail to register when they do, there is always the chance of drifting into the spiral that prevents you from getting close. I wipe my feet and imagine some of the finer points of the vast array of comedies that I watch when I am resting. Laughter is the ultimate cure for almost anything. It is especially good against anger, whose potency is inherrrently weak against the power of a good joke. But it has to be really funny- not the kind of funny you smile wryly at, but the kind that makes you laugh until you have to rush to the toilet to prevent an accident. That kind of funny.

Chris and Dave have spoken about letting the anger subside, just avoiding things that frustrate. But I have proposed a theory of dissipating the anger so fast you forget what you were angry about. It can be so vital in a game of split-seconds that you remain in the perfect (or close enough) mindset. Then you win points again, restoring the psychologically upwards cycle.

As Ringo Starr said this week: "I'M NOT SIGNING ANY MORE BEATLES STUFF... Peace and love, Peace and Love"

Returning to the Start

I intend to return to Norfolk for the weekend. Whilst I am there, I may feel a need to transfer a titbit of wisdom to the youngest of the new fencers. I hope that this will be a ladder week, as these are where the competetive spirit truly shines out of the younger ones. They show just exactly how they fence, rather than routinely putting on a good show for their coach in the in-between weeks.

And the true colours of a fencer are always brought out by a touch of competition. Even the most mild-mannered people throw away hint of timidity. Which is exactly what I hope to return to. A group of little ones putting all their effort into besting each other on piste.

Younglings are the best fencers, in many respects, because they are doing exactly what they have been told to do (in general). Their en guarde position blinds them to their feet, and their arm straightens every time they make for the attack. Of course, these are rough observations, but they hold true. An experienced younger fencer will have a difficult time fencing a beginner because they have slipped into their own routine, which inevitably differs from the starting points given to them by the coaches. Even after seven years I can remember shuffling vaguely in seemingly odd positions that now come so naturally to me (if slightly personalised to accommodate my laziness and Epée styles), and I want to observe this curve through the eyes of an onlooker, to see if this crop of younglings make similar mistakes...

Why am I saying this? Partly to warn NAF of my unexpected arrrival this weekend. Sorry people, but I wouldn't miss it for blood nor money. Also, it is partly to express what maturity I suddenly feel thinking about how much I have changed, and about what it will feel like going back to watch beginners start their journey on the path of the fencer.

I hope to be pleasantly surprised, and may (Andy-willing) try to fence a handful of them. Don't worry, I intend not to hurt them- simply to teach them a thing or two...

Maybe in influencing them at such an early stage in their fencing I would curse them into my own habits... That would be entirely unfair given that they should develop their own styles, not feed off a mixture of their coaches' respective stances and mannerisms.

Perhaps watching will suffice after all.

Questioning Faith

I am writing in response to a question posed by Chris, a swordsman (foilist) of keen renown in NAF and NFC. He asked of himself why he fences and, whilst I cannot answer that at a personal level for him, I can attempt to do so for myself.

First of all, it is a question that I have never posed before, but having seen it written down I can barely wonder why it has taken so long to crop up. At least I feel wise enough now to postulate towards an answer instead of simply going "Er..."

I started fencing in the Winter of 2001, having spent a summer holiday not sure what to do with myself sports-wise./neither a keen footballer or a competent rugby/hockey/cricket player, I was lost for things to do. Fencing, as proposed to me by my mum as a 'fun thing to do', seemed to be something kooky and different (and I must admit the whole 'swash-buckling cavalier' thing did flash in my mind briefly...). And so I went, completely lost as these funny foot positions and oddball names flew at me. Being persistent and ever-attendant, I stuck with it. Sometimes I think it stuck with me, but that is another story.

Shortly after I was hauled up to a club on saturdays, where the standards were awe-inspiring (at the time) and I remember being put into the D pool, with a budding young Abby among others. It was Dave (although he may not remember it) who claimed that she fenced 'like a terminator'. That much was true. I, however, fenced with a degree of timidity and a lack of confidence, landing somewhere in the middle and so not moving groups that fortnight. This eye-opening day proved that there was great room for improvement, although I was of the age where improvenment does not come easily and mistakes are there to be remade, not to be learned from.

This tale, in stark contrast to the last one, is based upon the fierce spiral of the learning curve, rather than that sense of achievement from thinking you have reached the top of it (at least momentarily). And it answers the question in three ways:

1: It answers the question because it outlines the thought process of why I started fencing.

2: It outlines a deeper level of why I didn't immediately stop fencing.

3: It outlines that, when you are good (relatively speaking, of course) at something, it will find you more readily and you will discover yourself through the things you do, rather than the things you think.

So perhaps raising a question so simple and yet so powerful, and in doing so effectively reconstructing your own faith in yourself and your sport, you open up such a depth of thought that you end up losing control of your own streams of consciousness. Given that losing that puts you back to square one every time, perhaps it is never meant to be known why things happen, but to revel in the fact that they have...

The Great Dance

Having read my fellows' blogs regarding the power of the comfort zone, I have decided to pursue it from a third angle.

Bouncing during any sport (especially the high jump), can prove critical to the outcome.

Allow me to retell the legend of Rob's greatest victory to date- U18 2007 final...

The match had begun slowly, with myself and my opponent both fairly and evenly contesting. I believe that there were only a handful of points at the beginning where I lagged and found myslef playing catch up, but I had gained the first point and thus a psychological upper hand. At some point, roughly halfway through (there may have been a break and taking my mask off may have provided an influx of much-needed oxygen, thus clearing my foggy head for a blessed minute of calm). As the second time period began, I felt myself bouncing slightly, never ever staying in one place, like water down a hillside (which is reluctant to pool until it has run its course). And so, cascading through my own newfound state of mind, the bounce seemed to have sparked a higher state of being. I was not only physically nore energetic, but attuned to a sense of what was going on in a way that I have rarely even come close to replicating since. It is this galvanised sense of time and space that gave me point after point. My defence was sharper, my attacks were better timed and I had an overwhelming sense of dance throughout the second time period. Fifteen points to nine later I removed my mask and, upon the second inhalation of clean air, this wondrous extraordinary experience was over.

Was this really some higher state of mind? One can only be lucky a handful of times in one go- there was more than mere luck at work. Truly it felt incredible to be crowned the champion of the tournament, but even this sense of achievement was not quite the unstoppable dance which I had experienced only ten minutes before.

Chris's experience of this was unnnerving and unfathomable (and this time it proved unmatchable, but he will inevitably find a counter should it happen again); in Dave's sense it was merely a device designed to distract and decieve (which is, at one leve, one of the main concepts of good footwork). For me, it was something that cannot, in its purest form, be put on. It can only be accidently stumbled across when the sky is aligned and the winds are cast in the right directions. I have tried tirelessly to regain this sense of dancing, but fear that I have put too much concetration into the pursuit of it and lost points as a result.

So there we have it- a dance of great potency is out there, if you get the bounce right.

Pastures New

It has been some time since my former entry.

This is because I have spent the last two weeks bedding in at University. In two weeks so much can occur- friendships are able to be torn down and rebuilt, only to crumble as best they might. Also, a man is able to wander into a fencing club and wander out on their A team, having proven very little about his ability. My self-confidence as a fencer is sufficient that I accepted such an offer, and welcome the challenges posed by any adverse university.

Also, having had a fortnight to myself, I have contemplated the similarities between being in your first year of university and being a hobbit in Lord of the Rings. The two coincide much more than would at first seem obvious, since I know very little about the wider goings on of the uni, and spend a good thirty percent of my time lost and/or confused. Everyone, it seems, knows a handful of facts that, when put together with other people's facts, can make up maps and timetables enough that if you are in a group of five or more, getting around becomes much easier.

So, in conclusion, there is safety in numbers, and I am mentally preparing to fight for Nottingham, Ancy (my hall of residence), and all else that I hold dear.

En guarde...

Shiny New Artefacts for Shiny New Places

I have recently replaced my old and cheap green lightsabre with a more extensive and remarkable version.

Advertised as the 'Ultimate Lightsabre' it is fully adjustable, blade colour and all. As a result I have had a world of fun playing about with colours and styles which suit me. After much and constant deliberation, I have settled (at least for now) on a comparatively lightweight style of hilt (perhaps a subconscious homage to fencing) and either a white or green colour blade.

But there are more metaphors hidden under my choices than meets the eye. If i look at it from the correct perspective, it is a case of me aspiring to be something resembling a figure of good intentions and somewhat of a force of light. I do try to be a good person (but am still wondering quite what that means) and make every effort to lay aside emotions and clouded judgments, but they will inevitably find me eventually, like the white colour of my blade is only so because one third of it is red, the commonly Sith (and evil) colour. Is one third of me thus a darker part of my personality, countered by the other two?

Now I've asked more questions than I've answered, and so shall endeavour to come up with suitable responses.

Lerriano- One name for Strength

My computer annoyingly broke the first time I wrote this article, which is why this is late.

I write creatively, often of a fantastic or adventurous nature, and Lerriano is an important and recurring name.

Commonly, the Lerriano is a powerful sorcerer who rules (in a scarily powerful autocracy) over a race of giant lizards known as the Volsis. This great spellcaster represents a feral and old world which is constantly under threat from modern technologies.

A more relevant use is that of a different world, set in a mountain fortress (inspired largely by Salamandastron, the Redwall badger castle), called the Northern Rock. Lerriano the Hunter is the eighteenth Lord of the Throne (although he expands the rank to that of King), who overthrows the tyranny of piety and reforms religious orders into factories of science. He and his dynasty are largely attributed with recreating the Citadel of Faith (from whom he had retrieved power) to be a grand palace to Technology (a culture called "Machinism").

The second use of this name within the same world is that of the 37th Lord, Lerriano Galebringer. This Lerriano was also attributed to a huge shift in public attitudes, but for the wrong reasons. He is the last of his dynasty, and so brought about a regime change by defeat in a duel at the hands of a foreign nobleman. His own contributions to Machinism were huge windmills which create gales that made battlefields impassable. It is also a reference to his ability to aggravate negotiations without losing his own cool.

The humans called Lerriano are metaphors for aspects of my own personality: the Hunter is a metaphor for my distrust of conventional concepts of Faith, and reinterpreting such concepts in my own way. It also represents ambition, but only on a minor technicality, as Lerriano the Hunter was never a crowned king, but paved the way for others to become so.

The second Lerriano represents the fundamental weakness of my faith in technology, and how it is possible to be defeated on a minor point even after staving off all the odds in other circumstances.

Ponder at will, and consider the nobility of Lerriano.