It's inevitable, when you skate, that at some point you will fall and hit yourself, your body on the pavement.

I am grateful for my father who taught me to fall.  

I've been stalled in skating... a few days ago on Twitter I said, "Why not rennovate the house during a press tour?" and that's really been quite the issue. Inches thick dust, a confrontation with possessions that usually reside, possibly retired, in closets, all in the open and questioning their own extistential existance. 

Yesterday was long, in good and bad ways.  I took my son to judo, and as he was done, I slipped into the adult class, to my shock making it simply through the warm ups and into the grips and holds.  My son studies judo, my father teaches it.  I myself am a brown belt, but I have not practiced regularily in years.  Sill muscle memory and sheer animal intelligence prevail.  

That night, as I was driving back, my sitter texted me.  Like a drug dealer knowing when her client needs another hit.  "Hey, need any help tonight?"

And just like that, it was on.  It didn't matter that I'd worked ten hours, that I'd just done a two hour workout and was drenched with sweat, that that was my second work out for the day, I was ready to go.  I managed to get home, hastily eat an apple, and dig out my skates.  I did not have my indoor wheels on my Lolly skates, so I pulled out my Hello Kitty Skates, a limited edition skate by Moxi that I'd found by sheer chance on ebay.

I met with my skate buddy and we drove off towards northern lights, swapping stories of our days (we could not be more different professionally) and swearing at the traffic.  The whole communte north is a festering of frustration, raw nerve ends that irritate.  We made it with just an hour to skate, but better than nothing and as I glided out on the floor I promptly stuck one skate pretty  much inside the other and flew forward.  My skate partner is quite a bit bigger than me and well seasoned in derby so I didn't actually manage to knock us both down, he served as a sort of solid human wall.  But I found that I was still warm and alive from judo and quite unafraid of falling.

Even though the skates were stiff, and new, and the wheels aren't my favourite type, by a few laps I felt an ease skating that I haven't ever felt.  Dance moves I'd stumbled over weeks before were fluid.  I wasn't avoiding the floor, or the inevitable crash, I was prepared for it.  The saying in judo is, "Maximium efficiency for mutual benefit," and that applies to how you fall as well.  It was the best hour of my day, my week, it was unsurpassed, actually, and it was, quite simply, what I needed.  

Freedom comes in many forms and many tenors.  For me it's less about the pressures from the outside than the darkness on the inside, of self regard, of a a relentless drive for professional success that can be quite pensive and difficult to carry at times.  I find freedom in a shifting perspectives.  There's not a part of my life I don't carry with me and know the shape of, and regard as part of the mosaic.  Skating is no different.

And it's a simple answer to the next morning's process, when writing comes as it does so often lately, with little difficulty.  The organizational social geometric structures I compose for work, my own pages of words for pleasure and my own projects. I am certainly tired, and a bit sore, but there's nothing in me that scares away from that kind of difficult.

It's fairly easy to carry the falling metaphor to a conclusion and so I'll allow you to walk it there, as docile as it is.  It doesn't make it any less true.  I feel often I can do the most difficult things because I have the knowledge of how to fail, break, fall down hard, repair, solve and rebuild.  I think of this too, in the shockwaves that follow Manchester.  I think of it because yes, it is all connected.  All of it, everything.

From the ground upwards,

QRC