I've been challenged to a fight. Not a mean-spirited, let's take this outside brawl, but an organized clash of two art forms. It all started with an innocent conversation. Doesn't it always?
I was at work, chatting with one of the fitness instructors, a bulky kick boxer. He told me stories from his childhood about being beaten up and then turning the tables on the bullies. He recently got picked on by four Colombians at a night club and creamed all of them. The way he described the fight, bouncing around, weaving and ducking was hilarious, until he showed me his busted knuckle and blood-stained hoodie.
We struck a deal. For the next four months, my friend is going to teach one of his friends how to kickbox. I'm going to learn Aikido and then we face off each other.
Protection: A head guard and groin guard.
Weapon of choice: Fists.
Why? It's relational. Fear restricts us from engaging in life. This is no different to me learning to surf on a beach with sharks, teaching a class a Bollywood move or even going out swing dancing. The fear of trying something we haven't done before is compounded by the stress of not knowing the outcome. I refuse to let fear selectively choose what I do in life. Does that mean I'm never afraid? No - there are some things that still freak me out. Ocean depths. Snakes (more disgusted than fear). Riding rickety cable cars over a gorge. Telling a girl I like her.
So, you see, in comparison, beating up a stranger and getting beat up... it's perfectly natural.
