Funneling fear into fire…

Tonight I was fortunate to be in the dojo parking lot when Joe discovered that the space between two cars was cramped.  He stood at the edge of the lot between the cars and said simply, “This is fire.”  We played in the space a few minutes and then a light bulb went off in my head.

My car is a box on wheels.  Standing against the doors is akin to standing against a wall.  So I leaned against it and had Joe take aim at me.  What Joe didn’t know in that fraction of a second was that I wasn’t just scared, I was absolutely, completely, thoroughly terrified.  In that fear, I finally found my fire feeling.

From past experience, I know what it feels like to be pinned against a wall believing there to be no exit.  I can tell you how hollow it feels to know that you are unable to hold your ground.  I can tell you how caged you feel when backing up is the only thing you’ve ever done and know that in the moment it can’t be done.  I can tell you how horrified you become when your only exit exists through the very person who holds you there and how you would never, in a million years believe that exit to be anything more than an impossible wall or trap.  I can tell you with absolute certainty that in a situation with no options, no alternatives, you surrender and hope to be able to endure so that you might be able to crawl away.  Unfortunate?  Maybe so, but all true, all my experience before training.

In that fraction of a second against my car, with Joe bearing down on me, I was transported into a moment without options and, once again, I gave up.  No I didn’t give up in the sense of surrendering to doom, but I did give up fighting the fear and, in fact, found myself giving over to it.  In turn, my fear funneled my focus to the exit.  You see, the exit I saw was just a small space created by his very movement, but it was space enough to travel through and beyond.  When I say that my fear funneled me to that exit, what I experienced was fear freezing my focus to that point of space and then pulling me, propelling me to that very space and the space after (Squirrel!) with fluidity.  I didn’t commit to action.  Action was committed to me through fear.  I merely let it be and, as a result, the technique just happened.

In the moment that I was free and safe after, the first thought that came to me drifted in as if on delay and confirmed that I didn’t chose to commit to action.  That thought was simply, “I’m not going to take that.”  It made me inwardly chuckle and outwardly smirk as I moved back against my car to do it all over again.  Not going to take it indeed.

Danielle DeBlois
SMAC Student