Tuesday, April 30, 2013

The Eye

There have been times in my life when I've felt a real mastery of something.  This isn't one of them.

Consider sports.   When I played soccer as an undergraduate in college, I played sweeper.   I had the respect of all my opponents.  I played both ends of the field, yet never got out of position.  I was never a great offensive player individually, but racked up many "assists."  I was incomplete command of the defense, and formed the solid foundation to give our offense the freedom it needed to be creative. I played the game with a confidence that bordered on arrogance.   Were it not for an ill-timed injury, I would almost certainly have gone "pro" for at least a year or two.

Later, as a graduate student, I was heavily into Taekwon-do, spending 3-4 hours a day in the "combat room" at the gym.  I was quite good, progressed rapidly to a high rank, and won several tournaments in my short time during those two years.   When I entered a match, I felt invincible, and often was.

In my early twenties, I discovered ultimate frisbee.  I quickly developed exceptional skill as a "handler" (someone known to throw the disc extremely well).   I remember the day one of our veteran players told me that I had developed what he called "The Eye."   

The Eye is when you can see everything.  The whole field, every detail of your opponent, every opportunity. Time slows down.  You not only can make the play, but you have time to choose between several options at any given time.  You have time to do extra stuff like taunt your opponent, or add a little flair to the game.  You make miraculous plays look easy.

After 13 years at Aikido, I still don't have "The Eye."   My personal nemesis (well, there are many, actually) is Jiyu-Waza (or Randori).  No matter what I tell myself before we start, it always seems to leave me about 5-10 seconds later.   I figure I need to be able to maintain it for at least 15-30 seconds to be really in command.

I think my test date is 20 weeks away.  That's about 60 training sessions if I make them all, or about 120 hours.    I haven't got a chance.

2 comments:

  1. Saying, "I haven't got a chance" is the same as closing "your eye." Do not close. Focus harder. See that which is not seen........yet. :-)

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    1. Ha! You've been watching too many Kung Fu movies, Grasshopper. :-) Don't worry. The "no chance" comment was expressing a sentiment, not a game plan. I have a lot of help. I have a chance.

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