EVERY NEW BEGINNING COMES FROM SOME OTHER BEGINNING’S END

Let's get real, nobody truly likes change—endings can be as frightening as beginnings. Transformation is tiring, messy, uncomfortable and often complicated. Change forces us to confront the skeletons clattering about in the closet and causes the things we bury to reanimate and make their way through the sludge until they breach the surface. I've played house… Continue reading EVERY NEW BEGINNING COMES FROM SOME OTHER BEGINNING’S END

BUILDING BRIDGES (ON BOXING AND YOGA)

peek a boo

I've always been my harshest critic, taking things on like a zealot and sometimes getting frustrated when I stall mid-process. The self-flagellation stems from a lifetime of working harder, faster, more than asked or required. Boxing has been no exception, though one big difference is that it can be a rather isolated and lonely sport. There… Continue reading BUILDING BRIDGES (ON BOXING AND YOGA)

ROLL LIKE THUNDER

women who fight

It is hard to make new connections. Life tends to get in the way. There are salaries to earn, children to care for, and a million and one expectations to manage. Weeks slam into each other. Months storm by. Days are filled with the mundane and ordinary. Now and then, we turn so far inwards we… Continue reading ROLL LIKE THUNDER

A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE

girl gang

It's been nearly a year since Coach took apart my jab and started to put it back together again. At the time, I thought boxing would be a phase because it was too intense and brutal. A discipline built on a foundation of violence. But instead, I have become more deeply entrenched in a world of… Continue reading A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE

MIRROR, MIRROR (A SALUTE TO OUR TEACHERS)

Whatever may be their use in civilized societies, mirrors are essential to all violent and heroic action. ― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own Life is full of teachers who come in all shapes and sizes. Some are older, some are younger. Some are worldly while others don't own a passport. Some mentors spoil their students… Continue reading MIRROR, MIRROR (A SALUTE TO OUR TEACHERS)

NINE MINUTES IN THE FIFTH SPHERE (LIFE ON MARS)

nine minutes paradiso

You shall leave everything you love most dearly: this is the arrow that the bow of exile shoots first. You are to know the bitter taste of others' bread, how salt it is, and know how hard a path it is for one who goes descending and ascending others' stairs. —Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy:… Continue reading NINE MINUTES IN THE FIFTH SPHERE (LIFE ON MARS)

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY CORNER

corner gifts

Prior to stepping in the ring yesterday to face a woman of wonder who kept me on my toes (more on that in a forthcoming post), I wrote an email to several members of my girl gang. This particular group is comprised of four fantastic women who, rightfully, have lifetime memberships in the tribe I'm… Continue reading AN OPEN LETTER TO MY CORNER

IN THE ZONE (A LESSON IN GOING WITH THE FLOW)

Manhattan bridge run

It's all right. No, it's not. What the hell? Move your feet! I feel every dimple and ridge. Softened canvas yields as I shuffle. The lights flicker bile yellow and slush grey, with a few shards of off-white (star-bursting) raining down if my head snaps back too quickly. There is only chaos until I settle in… Continue reading IN THE ZONE (A LESSON IN GOING WITH THE FLOW)

WE ARE NOT MADE OF GLASS

we are not made of glass

Aside from the dick-pic debacle, I took on boxing to compliment my running game and yoga practice. But another reason involved a riotous 2016 where I fractured into a thousand little pieces. After a year of existing as a glistening storm of jagged and brittle fragments, I longed to put myself back together. I am made… Continue reading WE ARE NOT MADE OF GLASS

REALITY CHECK AT SEVEN WEEKS

Final countdown

Reality sets in when you hit week seven. The number is an uncomfortable reminder of how rapidly the days meld into one another. By this point, you liken yourself to a feckless deer at the edge of a clearing—minding your business, looking for cover. But if you are a deer then time is a huntsman.… Continue reading REALITY CHECK AT SEVEN WEEKS