#jiu jitsu saved my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pistatsia · 4 months

Text

Marc Snuffy: the one who's in control

my Snuffy & Lorenzo fic using this characterization

Snuffy is the epitome of the word 'control'. From his motto to the use of his body with its perfect, calibrated balance on the field in the form of jiu jitsu (elements of which were also utilised by logic genius Sherlock Holmes in Conan Doyle's fictional style).

Snuffy controls everything from the individual strengths of his players to their place in his strategies, while also building all of his logic on a solid, confident base: for example, when constructing his team at Ubers he goes by the club's tradition and builds it on defence rather than attack. Even Lorenzo was raised by him to be flexible and adaptable (and most importantly, with the understanding that the most important thing is not to win, but to live), which can be seen in his attitude to the game - both serious and entertaining at the same time. And capable of accepting both losing and winning with dignity.

He controls even personal relationships, clearly defining the conditions for both sides, their benefits and losses - where it would seem that there should be no room for formalities. And if about Barou this could be hardly regarded to the football, then with the starving Lorenzo everything is a bit more complicated.

And I think it's obvious to everyone that this not entirely healthy level of control, going far beyond the boundaries of dedication, grew out of his trauma from Mick's death and their failure.

It's evident even in his relationship with the characters closest to him, Lorenzo and Barou. Through them both - two people so similar to Mick Moon (Lorenzo in appearance in his homeless era, Barou in both appearance and personality) - Snuffy recreates his trauma in an attempt to rewrite it with a happier ending. The kind of thing that Barou gets a glimpse of and is rightly angry about.

Of course this is hardly fully realised, only partly - in life, for example, kids who were bullied in their childhood sometimes become teachers. And then they stop the bullying near them as working adults, giving the new kids the happy ending they once deserved. And that's exactly Snuffy's case: he saves his players from a fate he himself couldn't avoid. He's willing to keep them as safe as he can control, growing them in almost hothouse conditions, which is exactly what Barou hates. So much so that he's easily willing to take the blame if they fail.

But at the same time, which makes perfect sense for such a person, Snuffy hates it when things get out of control, especially when there is deliberate sabotage - which is actually what Noa is teasing him about. I'd even go so far as to say that Snuffy is the kind of person who can only focus on a far-reaching goal by completely ignoring the unimportant things along the way - for example, he saved Lorenzo's life, but it seems they never talked about the fact that he didn't have to play football for Snuffy to love him, and that "worth" of his isn't that important.

Remember how Snuffy reacts to Barou's attempts to get out of his control and break his patterns: he's full of cold fury. That look is far scarier than shouting and punishment.

Because through Barou's prism Snuffy sees both his and Mick's paths. And most of all Snuffy is terrified of falling back into that helplessness - when he wasn't prepared for the event that broke his life in two. An event over which he had no control.

But it would seem impossible to be prepared for such an event. It's like a natural disaster and a terrorist attack - it's something that tears the usual fabric of life apart.

But when has that ever stopped anyone, right?

So Snuffy, in the moment of tragedy that destroyed his past, felt that he had a duty to anticipate everything. He had to know how and where to act, find the right words for Mick, save the careers of both of them, and basically hold the world on his shoulders so that it wouldn't break them apart.

It's terribly cruel and certainly unfair upon himself - but that's the way trauma works.

And that's why the journey he takes with Barou's help is so satisfying and liberating. Blue Lock does show overcoming one's traumas and chains visually and vividly very well - and how, with Barou's help, Snuffy was able to transcend his limitations, rising like a phoenix from the ashes, is perceived both visually and consciously, because it's relatable.

Because a person who is able to prepare for everything, to expect both loss and failure in advance, who knows exactly all his skills and advantages....

...also clearly sees the limitations of his body and mind. He simply cannot go beyond them - because he controls himself so much that he unwittingly limits himself, almost self-sabotaging - just to stay on predictable, familiar ground.

Logic is incapable of improvisation.

And this is what Barou is talking about - and what he teaches Snuffy anew, re-igniting his desire to live and play.

He shows Snuffy again that both life and football are made up of unpredictable moments - those where you are happy that something unexpected has happened that you weren't waiting for, those where you amaze yourself by going beyond your limits, those where you are happy and at the peak. Those where you need logic, but where you can't build your victory and happiness on it alone. Because happiness is in illogicality and unpredictability.

These moments are the things a person's destiny consists of.

The moments that Mick Moon lived for.

And the moments for which Marc Snuffy survived and rose again.

#marc snuffy #don lorenzo #blue lock analysis #bllk analysis #bllk #blue lock

55 notes · View notes

tomhardyitalia · 2 years

Text

Ig @tomhardy

Addiction is difficult and complex stuff to navigate; as is mental health. Subjects which are both deeply personal for me and extremely close to my heart.

It is an honour to be able to represent the charity and my team REORG and the great work they do supporting the mental health and well-being of veterans of service, military and first responders through the therapeutic benefits of Jiu Jitsu and fitness training.

Simple training, for me (as a hobby and a private love ) has been fundamentally key to further develop a deeper sense of inner resilience, calm and well being. I can’t stress the importance it has had and the impact on my life and my fellow team mates.

REORG is a global non-profit organization and community that encourages and enables veterans, active military, and first responders to use Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Physical Fitness Training as a form of therapy to overcome physical and mental challenges, strengthen social connection, and improve overall health and well-being.

Their work has changed and saved lives around the world by not only providing an effective, positive means for navigating and managing the challenging psychological aspects of military and first responder careers, but also has allowed many to find a renewed sense of purpose, identity, and community thats often lost when transitioning to civilian life.

#tomhardy # jiujitsu #havoc #taboo #VENOM

19 notes · View notes

eowyntheavenger · 1 year

Text

15 Questions 15 Mutuals

I was tagged by @valasania-the-pale, thanks so much for tagging me! :)

Rules: answer the questions and tag fifteen mutuals

1. Are you named after anyone?

Not my first name, but my middle name belongs to one of my mom's best friends, who I love :)

2. When was the last time you cried?

Hmm... I recently teared up while rereading The Silmarilion, does that count?

3. Do you have kids?

No, and it's not something I see for myself.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sometimes, but I prefer to just outright criticize things rather than being sarcastic.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I notice how they treat me and others around them.

6. What's your eye colour?

Blue.

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings! Although this frames it as a choice between two things that are not really opposites, so... I also happen to love tragedies.

8. Any special talents?

Depends on whether I'm actually talented, but I think I'm a good writer, and I also have some skill with drawing/painting, although I don't do it often enough these days.

9. Where were you born?

In the Pacific Northwest.

10. What are your hobbies?

Reading, writing, drawing/painting, photography, hiking, and martial arts.

I'm currently reading two books: one about the Coastwatchers in Solomon Islands during World War II, and the other about the Guadalcanal and Bougainville campaigns... also WWII.

I'm also currently working on some writing projects, namely the one giant writing project that has consumed the past three years of my life, although I've been taking a long-ish break for the holiday period (I've been too busy).

I'm also working on my first digital artwork, which has taken a few years at this point... partly because it keeps getting bigger and bigger! Ack!

There are a lot of things I'd like to learn how to do or do more of, like scuba diving, archery, and getting a pilot's license (but I need to save up money for that).

11. Any pets?

Two cats that I love very much. One of them is a tortoiseshell named Minou (there are pictures of her in the link). She is tiny! She is only 6 pounds. She doesn't really know how to meow, so when she wants food or attention she will gently and politely tap me with her paw (it is SO cute).

The other one is an orange cat with white socks named Percy, which is short for Persimmon. She is a troublemaker, and will steal ANYTHING from the kitchen. I once saw her running out of the room with a very long udon noodle trailing from her mouth. She is very cuddly and likes to spend all of her time on my lap, purring. Otherwise she's dashing madly around the house.

I also have a Juniper bonsai, which I think counts as a pet. I have had him for about three years.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I played soccer as a child, and loved it. I played basketball for one season and it was not for me - neither was cross country. I started doing Muay Thai and boxing when I was 17 and I liked that a hell of a lot better. Then I started doing Brazilian jiu-jitsu and judo in college. Nothing makes me happier than getting to do MMA multiple times per week, and I only wish that I could train regularly right now! I don't live close enough to the school I want to go to - but once I find a new apartment I'll be able to. I also enjoy weightlifting.

13. How tall are you?

5′4″... I would like to be taller, but this IS average height for a woman in the United States (where I live), which is what I remind people who tell me I'm short!

14. Favorite subject in school?

History, to be sure, which was my major. I also enjoyed Philosophy, Russian Literature and my language classes - over the years I took Latin, Japanese, German and Russian. Unfortunately my language skills are a bit rusty now, but I don't regret the time I spent studying them. :) I would like to learn some of the languages of the Pacific Islands - there are certainly a lot to choose from.

15. Dream job?

The one I have now, basically! Although I would like to live in the South Pacific one day. I work for a research institute and my field of study is the Pacific Islands. I love what I do, I get to travel, my coworkers respect me - I'm literally so happy! It's a big relief, because I was not happy at my previous job, and it's hard to find jobs in my field, at least where I live now.

Tagging friends: @softlypause, @wishiwould, @jtulipe, @lonelysocksclub, @orestes-hungry-and-pylades-sober, @frodo-baggins, @princeofnerds, @carinatae, @cosmologicalhedgehogephemera, @igotofetchthesun, @tuulikki, @belljarsandrabbitholes, @warrioreowynofrohan, @daegred-winsterhand, @katbatmagat, @softpyrate, @lie-where-i-land, @speckled-jim, @orangechickenpillow, @potatoobsessed999, @armenelols, @actuallyfingolfin, @backgroundelf, @stillcantgetoverthesilmarillion, @rhymes-with-sky, @kookyburrowing, @novemberblueskyink, @legolasbadass, @playingjax, @calliopechild, @randomphases Okay sorry I tagged a lot of people. No pressure to do it though! And anyone else can join in :)

#personal #tag game

10 notes · View notes

jinkx-monswoon · 1 year

Note

completely.

taekwondo or jiu jitsu works sm better and after fights Marcia patches her up and can’t help but love being able to touch Anetra 24/7 🤭🤭 … Anetra won’t say it out loud but she loves Maricas hands on her just as much 🫣

okay this is a HUGE jump in mood—bear with me here—but imagine this. what if anetra gets knocked really hard in the chest or something during a big televised fight and she stops breathing

and marcia, freaking the absolute fuck out, desperately performs CPR (aka mouth to mouth 😏) (also let's assume marcia is one of those medics who treats the fighter between rounds) until anetra is revived, and when she finally wakes up, marcia throws her arms around her and starts sobbing from sheer relief

anetra's like "wait what the fuck happened?" and marcia's like "you got knocked out and you weren't breathing and i had to resuscitate you—"

and anetra's like: "oh my god...you...saved my life?"

marcia: "i— yeah, of course, i couldn't just let you die"

anetra: "you saved my life."

marcia (confused): "...yes, i saved your—"

and then anetra kisses her. right there in the ring. on live television

do what you will with this concept 💖

#why did i double down so hard on this lmao 😭#anarcia

6 notes · View notes

thinkingthroughjiu-jitsu · 1 year

Text

Thoughts After Competing

"Are you going to change your Jiu-Jitsu game in light of your first competition?"

Yes, but not in the way you may expect. Some people I've heard answer this talk about developing a better game plan and drilling specific weaknesses, holes, or gaps in their game. As there are some benefits to this, I don't agree with this in some aspects. From experience in security and law enforcement, chasing the last trend typically does not produce favorable results. If you lose to an arm bar in a competition, and for the next six months you work on armbar defense only, you'll probably get choked out next time around. Some other responses will focus on the intensity of their game. Me? In the months of training leading up to a tournament, I realized a seed was planted, and it started to take root. It was a want that I needed to weed out. I began to care too much and try too hard. So how is my game going to change? I'm going to remove the game altogether. I'm going to focus on learning, flowing, and having fun. I forgot why I got into Jiu-Jitsu in the first place. I didn't start to chase medals, stripes, or belts. I didn't get into it to work up a podium or ranking bracket. I didn't begin to try to best people or prove myself to anyone. And if I had started doing any of that, I would stop. I want to return to the roots of my Jiu-Jitsu journey in the garage. Why just train for 5 minutes? I miss the 30 minutes or more. The 5-7 hours we'd manage to put in during a holiday. [You can insert sprint vs. marathon metaphor here, you won't catch me running either] If my perspective change hinders my promotions or disappoints my teammates, mentors, or coaches, so be it. Guess what? I don't practice Jiu-Jitsu for them, and the color of my belt doesn't define me.

Before I competed, a friend told me a bit about his experience. His takeaway was about handling the adrenaline dump you get when you step out on those mats to face an unknown adversary in front of strangers. And this is true; there is some anxiety and adrenaline response. But it is nothing I haven't encountered before. I grew up doing martial arts competitions, and I distinctly remember one where I was the only kid in my division, so I was moved up to spar and compete against older and higher-ranked kids. Then in my late teens and early adulthood, I had been in combat- shot at, near explosions, etc., and in various life-and-death situations, whether it be my life or someone else's. I've been in situations requiring me to do CPR and take further actions to save someone's life—the adrenaline I can handle.

The other argument for competing is it boosts your Jiu-Jitsu, going out and testing yourself against some random. Again, I get that. But I know different methods return similar results. And the other ways can be more fun. Seminars, for example, are one. Now, don't hear what I'm not saying. I love my coaches, and there isn't a class that goes by that I don't soak up something new. But having a guest instructor or a few hours with someone out of your school just hits differently. I often find myself in awe, not necessarily by the technique taught, but by seeing another human perform Jiu-Jitsu at that level, with a different upbringing. I'd like to think if my head coach went to their school, there'd be some bright-eyed white belt in awe by them too. The other way is to drop in other schools. Now, admittedly, I haven't gotten to do this as much as I'd like, but I have dropped in another school or two, and it's rewarding. The first time, I was still pretty fresh. Still mostly training out of a garage, I popped into a school where a friend of mine was teaching. The next time I had some wear and tear on my belt, which was almost more nerve-racking than my first competition. I was the highest-ranked white belt in the class, and imposter syndrome set in hard. Was I good enough to stand in front of all these dudes in their gym? Long story short, I held my own, and the imposter syndrome faded.

With all that being said. Will I celebrate the promotions of my teammates or even my own? Of course, I will. Promotions are still an accomplishment regardless of your motivation. Will I roll with those who prefer competition Jiu-Jitsu? Why wouldn't I? There are plenty of folks I enjoy rolling with despite their love for the competition scene. And as far as the competition scene, I'm all for the community. The overall vibe of a Jiu-Jitsu competition was way better than the traditional martial art competitions I grew up around.

Anyways.

If you train and haven't competed, don't let this deter you- you may love it, as many do. And I'm not saying I'll never compete again, but I just want to chill for now.

Thanks for reading.

#bjj #grappling #brazilian jiu jitsu #bjjtraining #competition #competing #jiu jitsu

3 notes · View notes

funkkpunk · 6 months

Text

For the first time my dad looks old to me. I hope I don’t let too much of my life pass me by. I thought about my ex today as I was trying not to fall asleep on the drive home from work. A friend I used to train with got a new cat after her other cat had died earlier this year. He was like 20 years old so it must’ve been really hard. I thought about what it might be like to have a second chance with a dog. Then I felt like an asshole because even though Carl was alive I felt that way about my ex’s dog when we moved in together. Then I thought about how nice it would feel to come back to my room and fall asleep with the both of them. I don’t miss them but I do miss that type of comfort lately. Then I saw my dad and he looks old today. I realize it’s been a couple years since she hit me with that ultimatum. I thought I was going to become a web developer hahaha. I thought maybe there is more to life than being good at jiu jitsu? It’s funny because now two years later… there kind of isn’t hahaha. Everything else feels trivial. Now that I make the money to save and move out soon I feel like I don’t want to leave my family lol. But at the same time I have to save myself. I can’t be thinking about coming home to someone I won’t see here again. Or about the way things don’t change in this house. I gotta get myself a healthy little environment where I can grow. Hopefully then I can help everyone? If they even want it. I feel like I’m stuck in limbo right now. The past month has flown by and it’s only going to continue. I’ve had times like this before so I know it will pass… and I know I’ll have more times like this in the future. There’s a weird calmness to finally being able to be relatively comfortable alone. It’s not happy but it’s not sad either. I’m not necessarily comfortable or at peace but I’m not so stressed anymore. It’s like I’m lost at sea but I know I have enough food and water to get to where I need to go… although there is stability I occasionally think about what it was like when I was on land. When I didn’t feel the sway of the ocean and the ground felt firm. Anyways… I have to finish my food and do some laundry… gna make a beat before bed as well.

0 notes

vanilla-cigarillos · 7 months

Text

Having a chronic illness flare up on the first day of my period, so I want to write about the good things in life at the moment for a reminder that things will be ok and finding joy in the little things really does make a difference

My cat is very sweet and cuddly, she knows when her mama feels bad and does her best to help!

My partner is very kind, helpful and understanding with my health struggles and has been a blessing with making today so much easier

I have made a new friend (@knotyourdeer) who is VERY delightful and makes me feel cared for :)

My orchid is blooming!!! I thought it was dying for a few weeks there (I bought it from Lowes with the intention to save it) but it looks like it's making a good recovery!

The weather feels like it's starting to get colder, which means less heat-induced flare ups and more cozy sweaters <3

I created an AMAZING new recipe after a night of jiu jitsu that was absolutely BANGIN (and as a bonus I got to share it with a friend!)

My mental health was managed much better this time around (in regards to my cycle) and I feel like I'm improving with managing those hormone-related mood dips

#disabled #chronic illness #disabled girl shit #positivity

1 note · View note

declaredmissing · 1 year

Text

teeen superhero dynamics

Been thinking about a favorite photograph that I’ve fallen in love with lately. She is a woman, draped in all black, her hair and entire body covered except for her face and hands. She is beautiful, and the expression on her face is defiant, confident, and confrontational, but also holding a shade of vulnerability and melancholy. I wonder how she got there, standing in the crash of the waves with her back fearlessly to the sea. Rather than fall from the force of the water, she stands strong and unaffected. She is alone in the image, like a mythic figure. I wonder what she survived; it is as if she was walking out of the ocean, born again somehow. An array of experiences inform our own gaze. I wonder how my own life/readings have led me to perceive this photograph in the way that I did. The fuller context of this photograph is a socio-political-economic tragedy. The photograph is part of a photo series named *[Listen: Giving Voice to Iranian Women](<http://magnumphotos.com/arts-culture/newsha-tavakolian-listen/>)*, by Newsha Tavakolian. Photographed in Mahmudabad, Iran in 2011, and envisioned as an imaginary CD cover for Sahar in the Caspian Sea. In the series, Tavakolian photographed six professional Iranian women singers and created fictional album covers. In postrevolutionary Iran, many talented artists are rendered voiceless as women are banned from solo performances in public. But somehow, I connected to it, and related to the figures; the feeling of being rendered ineffective and voiceless, reduced to the margins. There is no political restriction–my timidity and self-doubt is an internal struggle. But the photographs make me feel more empowered in my own life, to imagine myself standing in the same spot as these women. I see myself reflected in the woman; I see myself standing there in the water, looking back at the camera with that same sharp and defiant expression. When I think of what it means for us to look at ourselves, to photograph and image ourselves, I recall Ayesha saying it was narcissicistic. But I see it as visual agency, a question of authorship and who gets to determine how we represent ourselves. There is another image, a young woman standing in the middle of an empty road with bright-red boxing gloves. I think of the power I feel when I put on my handwraps, gloves, shin guards, muay thai shorts. I remember Coach Reese telling me, Sam and Ayesha how boxing saved her life when she was in a dark place. Tania telling me, on the first day I met her, that MMA/jiu-jitsu saved her life when she was struggling through depression and anxiety, and that coach had been through it too–to ask him. What is it about combat sports, that saves our lives?

“There is something so special about teen superhero team dynamics, from Power Rangers to magical girls and everything in between. / I help you fight evil. I let you sleep on my lap when we get back home. I know everything about you, things your parents never will. We've almost died together. We study for tests together. We are discovering ourselves. I hope I still know you in ten years. You turned evil once. I still got you a birthday present.”

“The truth is that the heroism of your childhood entertainments was not true valor. It was theater. The grand gesture, the moment of choice, the mortal danger, the external foe, the climactic battle whose outcome resolves all – all designed to appear heroic, to excite and gratify and audience. Gentlemen, welcome to the world of reality – there is no audience. No one to applaud, to admire. No one to see you. Do you understand? Here is the truth – actual heroism receives no ovation, entertains no one. No one queues up to see it. No one is interested.” — David Foster Wallace, The Pale King

Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against the gods. In crisis, their souls are visible. – Anne Carson, “Tragedy: A Curious Art Form”

between rescue and recovery / 04.09.22

On earning to struggle with my own fear that paralyzed me. Fear has been the pattern driving my instincts in life.

Hands in my lap, between my 18 and 23 year old self, having to ask permission to leave the house late at night. Growing up means reconciling the child in my adult self, and the adult in my childhood self. The part of me that pleads to be protected, to be made to feel safe, that wants to be worthy of empathy, kindness and protection. To reconcile that with the part of me that believes I can only depend on myself for protection and safety, that others are not to be trusted, that the way to survive in this world is to be self-reliant.

A long time ago, when I first started combat sports, I confess I had this image of myself in my head that this would be the way I could be invulnerable. It was a metaphor for being superhuman; able to protect others, and myself, with the ego of a hero instinct. Much of this idea led to my starry eyed idealization with a police officer I met. For years, I wasn’t able to stop thinking of him. His ability to self-mythologize was magnetic; his story overcoming the odds to become a superhero in the police force, a hero able to rescue others. It collided, I suppose, with my own self-mythos. Which is why I was so enamored with the idea of him.

When I was a little girl, and even a teenage girl, I wanted to save the world. I crafted a destiny for myself. I wanted to be a scientist that studied snow leopards, because I read in a National Geographic magazine that they were vanishing. I tore out the article and pinned it to my wall and told myself, I wouldn’t let them disappear. I think this moment captures the energy and direction of my ambition; the good intent, but also the misdirection. Wanting to save the world, but from an attraction to a glamorized image of what I thought was worthy of saving.

I wanted the yes energy of my heroines, their will and energy and appetite, their ability to not be sunk by disappointments. But it collided with the parts of me that were ruthless and ambitious, and afraid and insecure, all at the same time. One of the biggest changes from my past self is the egoistic hero instinct in myself. I can’t say I’m selfless, or that I’m convinced I’ve changed, but I’m aware of it and I’m wanting to change. Throughout the years, I wrestled with my relationship to ambition. Now, I just want to live from joy and wonder; to run towards, not from.

There was a night I fell asleep crying and heard my sister’s voice in my head, “it’ll be okay, little moon.” I realized how much I missed the best friend I used to have in my sister. That relationship is lost, and I don’t know how to recover it or where to go from there. When I find myself missing ‘my sister’, I wonder if I’m really longing for an older figure to reassure me that everything would be alright. I don’t know how to be that person for myself. There’s a person I’m afraid of becoming, and I don’t know why.

I dreamed last summer of a human rights lawyer walking into the house with the broken refugee family, taking the little girl away and saving her when the girl was about to jump. How explicitly my subconscious was telling me I long for a mother, for a hero, for some magic person to provide me unconditional love and protection and kindness. A dream showing me how I wanted to rescue others before myself. I wanted someone else to rescue me, because I didn’t trust myself to be there for me.

There’s a little girl, standing at the edge of a window, about to jump in the pool, and she wants someone older and wiser and kind to sweep in and save her. She’s my daughter, and she’s me, and she’s the little girl inside my mother too, inside probably every woman I’ve ever known.

Self-destruction used to be the only language I knew when I needed help. In times I felt the most rage, I felt driven to prove I was more willing to destroy myself and go further than anyone else would. Dumping my journals and writing in the trash can, letter opener to my skin, to my paintings. Ending friendships, cutting my ties to the world. Erasing myself was the only way I felt I could exert control in a life where I otherwise felt helpless. It was my attempt to speak, to beg people to see that I wasn’t okay, to ask them to care, but in a manifested in a cry for help that didn’t speak at all. I wanted someone to stop me. To tell me I was too valuable to be lost. But there’s no wiser or older figure who’s going to sweep in and reassure me of my value. Realizing that left me with a deep and aching loneliness, but instead of turning others, I decided to contain the pain, and this reduced me to being isolated and weaker. I searched for security by deciding to enter a ‘men’s world’; safety in self control and self restraint.

In response to my own fear, I decided to develop a tough skin to protect myself. I found myself looking up to fictional figures with traditional masculine traits – self control, determination, cool, emotional discipline, and mastery. Self-sufficient, independent women, who are fucked over in many ways but refused to be helpless. Alienated with no support system, but plenty of rage to fuel them. Aimee, Lisbeth Salander, Aomame, Lara Croft. They had a voice, and they had power, even if it was in a sense dressing over deeper wounds, to protect the softer parts of their underbelly. I thought rescuing myself meant being untouchable. Being able to defend myself. To not be scared anymore. I wanted to be both weapon and armor itself. The kind of girl who could walk home alone at night and have nothing to be afraid of.

Emma Berquist in her article True Crime Is Rotting Our Brains observed, “So many true crime shows advise women to trust their instincts, but how can we trust instincts that have been hijacked by induced anxiety?” She worried that being primed to read danger in innocent situations “are not sensible reactions, they are the thoughts of someone who has been deeply traumatized.” I wonder how much of my instincts for survival are led by misreading the world. Defaulting to believing this world is a dangerous place, and in my body, I am not safe here. I often think of the police officer I dated, who was alert and guarded and could sense in every gesture or open space, the potential for danger. I related to him. I understood him. I wanted to become what he did in his response to fear.

Much of the criticism against women’s self-defense are objecting to how women must prime themselves to signals of danger. How we must be the ones to train and protect ourselves, instead of questioning society and demanding that society as a whole must become a safer place. It skews our perception of danger.

We are primed with our hands holding our keys in the the way that alert, vulnerable women do walking alone at night.

Many of my heroines are driven by anger, of experiencing women in their lives being abducted or murdered. Who they become is from the effect of these stories on their psyche.

Our very culture skews crime and violence to embed fear within us. I’ve been thinking of other insiduous ways it does this, encouraging us to mistrust each other, read danger into each other, in the name of encouraging safety, being alert. As a smokescreen to distract us from the deeper causes of violence. Heightened fear became the underlying landscape driving me to muay thai, combat sports, self defense. When I walk alone at night, every stranger could potentially whip out a knife. They warn of this in kali, demonstrating how casually one could stab you, as if it were a normal thing to expect. If, according to Berquist, “crime stories are a fundamentally conservative way of looking at the world,” what would a radical way of looking be? What would be the opposite of ‘fear-stoking propaganda’? What would it mean to practice self-defense as a way of truly finding power in oneself, rather than it being a reactive way of seeking power, like a man buying a gun?

I’ve been thinking about it what it means to take agency for my own life. There are days I feel like I’m just barely threading myself together; that I’m only just holding on to the strands that bind me. I think of how I’ve grown, since I first commuted to Brooklyn to learn Muay Thai, wrapping my hands on the train. Looking for courage. Looking for armor. Combat sports has become my lifeline when I don’t know what else to do with myself. It’s hard earned confidence. Focusing on the bag is a way of channeling my anxiety to a certain outcome–I know how to practice. I know that this isn’t wasted effort. The concentration and energy feel productive. There’s no confusion. Each strike is its own reward.

I found some kind of fulfillment and reward through the repetition of kicking a bag. Driven to perfect my roundhouse kick, fueled by the thrill of a perfectly executed kick. I learned to build habits and structure through long term persistence and self-forgiveness. It was the best thing I did for myself at that time in my life where I was going through a personal crisis.

I found survival in the drive to keep working, with a laser-like intensity, on something even after I’ve lost immediate interest. Learning what rules I do want to form for myself. Reward in my tenacity in itself; not to be recognized or to feel safer, but in the sheer joy of seeing myself improve. Survival in discovering my ability to stick with something even when it was hard.

Turning to martial arts and starting to fully grasp just how powerful I can be – how overwhelming it is to lean into something new, to be bad, to persist–and then to be truly whole-heartedly empowered by the results. Training myself to not be disappointed so easily by my failure or clumsiness, at how my body simply did not know yet. To not feel frustrated that I was getting it wrong, or that it wasn’t coming together or feeling easy yet. Enduring hardships and learning the grace to bear them well.

Finding agency through martial arts hasn’t solved my life problems, and it doesn’t make the world objectively less dangerous.

focus on the evolution in my perception of/relationship to martial arts.

The moment I decided to box was when I watched Tomb Raider, and Vikander, the underdog, was hurling herself at her opponent and refusing to give up. And I thought, maybe I could have it in me too. Croft, or the way Vikander played her – was vulnerable but also tough. She was someone who chose the hard path. Scrappy and resourceful and uncertain. And I identified with her. There is something triumphant and hopeful to be found in a character who, at the end, discovers just how truly powerful she is after emerging through crisis.

on psychological domination: I wonder what the difference is between rescue, and recovery. It seems obvious that self-preservation, the instinct to survive, means to walk away from situations that felt unbearable. But it’s not so obvious when you don’t know how to recognize what a cruel situation is. When it doesn’t occur to you that it’s possible to ask for more – and that you are deserving of more.

In that moment I left him, walking away was the rescue. Not just rescue from a relationship where I was exhausting myself, but also from a version of myself I knew deep down was just a shadow of who I could be. But it left me at point zero, alone and lost and not knowing what I’m made of or what I want to be. So now I begin the process of recovery–to fully allow myself to grieve and repair my wounds, when before I would just hide them and limp on. Like an animal who gnaws her paw off in a fox trap and goes on, determined but blinded with pain. Recovery is what comes after the escape. It’s the drawn out limping with no promises, searching for rest and hoping that along the way with time–against mortal limits–the limbs grow back. The fox molding the missing paw with clay and earth, learning to create and not just sever.

With tenderness and infinite patience. I’ve learned, along the way, that no one else is going to do it for me. It’s a hard lesson to accept. I grew armor as a kid, learning to rely on myself, but at heart, hoping someday someone would care for me. I held on to that fantasy, and my anger came from the injustice of feeling that was withheld from me. I struggle to accept that no one else is going to tell me the words that I want to hear, but it’s hard for me to feel like it’s okay to say those things to myself. But I hope to let go, to accept with grace that my belief in myself should not be dependent on others believing in me. There will be people who love me, who treat me kindly, generously, but if I’m able to unfailingly protect myself–be sacred to myself, treat myself like I would be my own daughter–then I’ll never be breakable.

0 notes

yundk · 6 years

Photo

Breathing room is a luxury here. My senses and my body are in a constant, tight embrace with sound and space, delivering both the coziness of a heated home during a blistering winter as well as the heaviness that bears down upon the soul when freedom of movement and flight is restricted. I’m playing a continuous game of tug-of-war to revel in the conviviality and nearness of community on one end, and need for stillness and legroom on the other. That’s why I love being home in Los Angeles with my family but also feel a biting need to venture out, push boundaries, and cross borders. Which leads me to El Progreso, Honduras. A city where I’ve been welcome into the family of a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu gym run by an outstanding man by the name of Raul who also provides a home for boys to learn the values of discipline and integrity and to set their life path on an upright course. A city where Israel, the elderly born-and-raised Progreseño who is always lounging at the next-door pulpería, presented me with freshly boiled elote as he shared with me a detailed narration of the city’s history. A city where Javier, a training engineering student I met once weeks back in a national park, extends a helping hand and companionship as we roam the city for almost two hours looking for bus options to take me to Comayagua. A city where faces, smiles, and waves become more familiar with each passing day, even with those with whom I have yet to exchange words. A city where I will call home for the next year of my life.

Yet, like home, it is where I often feel cramped in its nine city blocks, itching to drift outside. The hardest part about living here is this feeling of want for more diversity in the activities that are accessible. Discotecas are fun, but every weekend spent at a club blasting music and teeming with people only compounds the noise and cramming that I’m looking to escape from by the end of the week. My school days are filled with racket and laughter, fist bumps and hugs, and smooth moves across the classroom room in the best possible way, with the most lovable group of kids I have the privilege to teach, and they fill my heart with joy. At the same time, I need to decompress, to clear out my reserves so that I can wholeheartedly embrace their natural abundance of energy the following week. Which is not ideal when almost everything, save for the discotecas, closes by nightfall and the liveliness of the streets follows the retreat of the sun. I’ve no doubt been spoiled by my years in LA and DC, where arcade and board game themed bars, karaoke, stand-up comedy shows, and eventful public parks liven up the night. A city boy, I will always be. And fortunately, as a city boy, I am accustomed to a certain level of noise pervading my waking hours. Not the discoteca volume of noise, but the daily drone of buses and trucks, the barking of dogs, and the intermittent shouts of a passerby. In our house in El Progreso, added to this mix is the blaring music of the pool bar next door and the banter of the middle-aged Honduran men who frequent the establishment. It reminds me of growing up in LA and especially of visiting my grandparents, whose neighbors seemed to have their boombox powered on perpetually playing mariachi music. Because of this, I am unbothered by this intrusion of noise into our home; rather, they blend into the buzz of everyday human activity and even bring me comfort. Such paradox of life does not escape me – for me, the intimacy of home has never represented a solace from the stir of the outside world, but an impulsion to throw myself into the bustle of life. To live and breathe in the world, appreciating with the utmost gratitude that at the end of the day I have a home, with its familiarities and people and memories, that will always be there to take me in with a warm embrace.

Home always feels most sheltering during a rainy day. And here, we have a lot of those. It’s during these days when the drumbeat of the rain tapers into the background and blurs into the scenery of city noise that I experience the intermingling of human and nature most acutely. I find my sense of peace in these moments, and comfort with the intimacy of home as a refuge from the world outside. Yet in Honduras, I have found another sense of serenity, in the streets and trails away from the roof of home. There are days when I take off my shoes and socks, roll my jeans up to my knees, and just about wade across the inches-deep stream that is flowing through the streets of El Progreso. Or, when it beings to start pouring and I’m caught outside in nature – in a muddy field, next to a basin of water that acts as a makeshift pool, or within reach of a waterfall – I throw off all my clothes expect my briefs and jump in the water. I feel the water rushing over me, my bare feet nimbly kissing the ground or gripping and imprinting the mud. And while the torrential forces of nature crashes down my body, my soul is lifted, untangled from all those messy burdens that cling to us in our daily lives. They are washed away, and I soak in my surroundings with a sense of grounded harmony with the present moment. Anywhere and anytime else, I ducked out of the rain under an awning and waited it out. But here, I’ve let my spirit free to play and delight in the soothing power of water, with all its messiness. I’m a little kid again, but I’m growing in how I relate to the world.

Food has always been a huge part of my traveling. There are a handful things in life that bring me greater joy than the anticipation of waiting to try a food I’ve never tasted before and the moment that I have the food in hand, able to sense palpably its medley of aroma. And of course, the moment I’ve been waiting for: savoring the food, and stamping a memory of its flavor, texture, and impression in my food diaries. Street food has given me this experience so many times, and I am so grateful for all the food vendors out on the grind and who offer me a glimpse and taste into their culinary and cultural world. Y’all the real MVPs. I’ve only just been starting to take up again my excursions to track down new foodstuffs, almost four months in my living here in Honduras. I had let my limited funds deter me from enjoying one of life’s most gratifying pleasures, and this was not how I wanted to live, how I wanted to spend this special year abroad. Looking at the big picture of my life, a dollar spent here and there is going to make a scant dent financially but will pay off infinitely in terms of happiness. I can’t put a price on that, no matter how much or little dough I have in my pocket. Nonetheless, the bulk of my food intake comes from meals at home, and here, I’ve found a hearty appreciation for eggs. Nature’s perfect food, and less than a dollar-fifty for a carton of 15. I love that they are such a versatile food, with its pleasantly nondescript flavor and myriad ways to cook it. A heap of eggs (scrambled, steamed, fried, hard or soft boiled, as a frittata, depending on mood and convenience), a pile of sautéed vegetables, and avocado and quesillo in chunks fashion a colorful arrangement on my dinner plate every night. Recently, as my mom sent me gochujang, doenjang, and sesame oil, the essentials of Korean gastronomy and life, I’ve begun to expand my palate to include more cultural diversity, namely with variations of bulgogi. The funny thing for me is that half the reason I cook it is for my parents; they always ask me, don’t I miss Korean food and how can you go for weeks and months without kimchi. And yes, I love Korean food, and I have a huge appetite for it, but when I’m elsewhere, away from home, I don’t necessarily miss it. I prefer to stick with local cuisine, and given my privilege of having lived in so many different places, local cuisine has never reached the point of ordinariness and tedium. Not that Korean food has ever been that for me. I just don’t find comfort in specific food – my definition of comfort food would be anything my mom makes, irrespective of any particular dish that she prepares for me. Still, it reassures my mom that I’m eating Korean food, and that gives me enough reason to cook it over here. Plus, it is nice having a fresh flavor to add to my staple of eggs.

0 notes

renatorizzuti · 1 year

Text

Good Luck & Good Fortune!

Written By Renato Rizzuti & Photo By Maria Rizzuti

I have a new companion. I call her Stella, as a way of paying homage to Marlon Brando’s famous line from “A Street Car Named Desire.” She is known as Maneki-Neko in Japanese. I keep Stella beside me in my creative work space. Stella represents for me; the centuries old luck and prosperity!

If you are a tourist in Japan, you can see the “cat” waving at you from store windows and restaurants. It is hard to resist such a cute “cat” and you are motivated to go into the place of business! This is equal to a person talking you into going inside.

They are usually made of ceramic or plastic. They depict a Japanese Bobtail cat with its paw raised in a beckoning gesture. As in Japanese culture, felines have protective powers and symbolize good fortune.

This goes back to a 17th century story. Basically, a lord samurai named Nakota had his life saved by a monk’s Bobtail cat and when the cat died a statue of Maneki-Neko was made to commemorate its life. This is why the beckoning cats became symbols of good fortune.

I have always been fascinated by Japanese culture. I studied the Japanese martial art of Jiu-Jitsu extensively. My fascination extends to all things Oriental. I have some Oriental wall hangings and an Oriental vase in my home.

I even used to have a Korean best friend. Bill taught me cooking tips and some Kung Fu moves. We used to workout in my garage. My family laughed at me when I came home with a 50 lb. bag of rice which I used for cooking Oriental rice dishes!

There you have it. Different cultures have different objects that they consider lucky. The point is to have something to focus on when you are mentally wishing for good luck and prosperity. I sincerely wish you all good luck and good fortune!

#luck #fortune #Maneki-Neko #Japanese #Korean #Kung Fu #Jiu-Jitsu

0 notes

violetmina · 1 year

Note

venus + pluto!

Venus: what's a song that always makes you dance, even if just in your head?

First one that comes to mind is The Ballroom Blitz by Sweet. Got some good memories of flailing about to this song as a young kid, and even now I have to remind myself that I can't dance to save my life when it comes on.

Pluto: name three things you're proud of yourself for doing across these last few months!

Oh lordy, 😶 ummmm... I guess maintaining my jiu jitsu practice and slowly seeing progress. Another would be consistently going to the gym, even when I want to do anything BUT workout. And...honestly, I don't have a third 🤷‍♀️

Thanks for asking! 😊

#answering ask games

0 notes

barbfleuret · 1 year

Photo

Motivational Sunday to start the week off right. Omg I’m doing it. I can’t believe it. Kinda glad I did quit 4 years ago. Feeling healthier and breathing much better too. I have to thank Jiu Jitsu for that. If I didn’t have that to keep me going (bc need to breath in that sport) I would still be smoking I think. My husband was a big part of that for my start bc he couldn’t smoke when he first started Jiu Jitsu before me. So see Jiu Jitsu has saved my life in many ways and this is a big one of them. 💪🏼💪🏼 #motivation #healthy #healthylifestyle #healthylife #healthyliving #quitsmokingonthisday #quitsmokingmotivation #quitsmokingcigarettes #quitsigarrets #bestdecision #bestdecisionever #bestdecisionievermade #bestdecisionofmylife https://www.instagram.com/p/ColR53iJ7uB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#motivation #healthy #healthylifestyle #healthylife #healthyliving #quitsmokingonthisday #quitsmokingmotivation #quitsmokingcigarettes #quitsigarrets #bestdecision #bestdecisionever #bestdecisionievermade #bestdecisionofmylife

0 notes

novoplata · 1 year

Text

Resolutions schmesolutions

I haven't written much in this online journal, so I thought the New Year would be an excellent opportunity to restart my writing journey. So, here goes my (loosely held) resolutions for 2023:

1. Don't put a limit on yourself

I was watching the Torian Pro team clean and jerk ladder event last year, and on the floor was a team with a female masters athlete in her late 40s clean and jerking 80kg. The commentator then commented on how rare it is for masters athletes in their late 40s to hit higher than 70-75kg in a clean and jerk, let alone 80kg.

I remember thinking, 'damn, I must've missed my boat', having struggled with hitting a new PR on my clean and jerk last year, after hitting a slew of PRs in my first year of CrossFit in 2021. For the record, I shall turn 40 in November this year but would still like to lift as heavy as my body would permit.

I then made it my personal mission to start following masters weightlifters and powerlifters on social media who would prove to me that age is just a number and you can still hit those heavy lifts as long as you do them safely with good techniques.

Last week, I also had a chance to share a rack with a slightly older athlete who has also been training way longer. She proves to me that being older doesn't mean that you should automatically start lifting pink plastic dumbbells. She lifts heavier than I do and I'm so inspired to have someone to look up to in my own gym!

I come from a generation where sports were just some extracurriculars you do to represent your school when you're younger, not something to be adopted as a way of life. When I picked up Jiu-Jitsu at 27 years old, people were already telling me that I was too old and should only sign up for Zumba classes. Imagine how much fitness and practical life skills I would've missed out on if I had listened to them?

Of course, that being said, being older also means that I have to learn to listen to my body more. If she says rest and I'll do just that

2. Wear that damn sports bra

I remember making this resolution in 2011 when I was a scrawny 52kg runner who couldn't do a single push up.

My resolution then was to lose another 5kg (haha!) and wear a sports bra during my next half-marathon race in 2012. I did the half-marathon alright, but I didn't lose the weight as hoped, therefore, I never wore a sports bra in public.

In hindsight, if there was a time when I should have been wearing a sports bra in public, it was back then in 2011. I was never 52kg again and my waistline was never as tiny anymore. Nonetheless, if CrossFit had taught me anything valuable, it is to honour your body for what it can do rather than what it looks like.

That being said, if it's too hot during a workout, just take your top off and wear that damn sports bra! Everyone else would be too busy dying to judge your body anyway.

3. Go on that damn vacation!

I have this weird annoying habit of moving my goalpost each time I've reached it.

I told myself I'd get a new pair of lifters when I hit a 60kg clean (I only got mine a year and +5kg later), I told myself that I'd go on a staycation for my birthday last year (I cancelled last minute; would rather save that money) and recently, I told myself that I'd start travelling again once I've hit my savings goal.

I hit that savings goal in August 2021 and already felt like I should be moving the goalpost before I should allow myself to travel.

Stop, just stop! I'm turning 40 this year and had been working so hard in the past three years to survive the pandemic. I survived with flying colours and now, it's time to treat myself to some new memories. Besides, I seriously don't know just how much longer I will be this healthy and strong. Seize that day already!

Happy New Year, everyone!!

#new year post #2023 #road to 40

0 notes

anthonysstupiddailyblog · 1 year

Text

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (253): Thu 24th Nov 2022

Tuned into last nights Dynamite. The highlight was the second trios match between Death Triangle and The Elite. The main talking point of the match was The Elite’s behaviour during the match where they frequently mocked and made reference to CM Punk and the scuffle at All Out. This included Kenny Omega biting PAC, Matt Jackson deliberately botching a Buckshot Lariat and Omega ending the match with a Go To Sleep (I’m surprised that they didn’t introduce a new move called the 2:14 in reference to the length of his first UFC fight). I’m guessing / hoping that all these blatant references to Punk and the scrum are a sign that Khan has convinced Punk to stay and they have a storyline planned for when he returns as I doubt that Tony would allow this to happen otherwise. If Punk was out the door then I imagine Tony would tell them not to mention him any more. Although I'm sure this will upset a lot of people I for one am thrilled because although Punk may have a short fuse I think that in the long term he will be good for AEW. I can only imagine how this storyline is going to play out when and if Punk returns but this will be one of those storylines that Tony needs to map out fully before they even start it. They can't just book a storyline with this level of real life heat week to week.

The surgeon who operated on me a year and a half ago gave me a call tonight to give me the results of my MRI scan. He said that there is nothing out of the ordinary in the scan so I’m taking it that there’s nothing dangerous or life threatening going on in my neck. Hopefully this means I should be able to get the stiffness and discomfort sorted out with physio. I’m still not going to the NHS physio because they fucked me over by refusing to send me for an MRI for over a year and I basically had to sort it out myself. I'll see if I can sort out a visit to a chiropractor first of all then I'll have a word with the physio that my Jiu Jitsu sensei recommended I go to. I'll also start doing yoga at home to try and strengthen my neck. The great thing about this news is that with there being no other slipped discs I should be okay to go back to Jiu Jitsu and start sparring again but I think I'll leave that until the new year now since I've got Christmas and the trip to LA to save up for first.

Looked after Luna today. I didn’t want to spend the entire day watching her shitty shows for toddlers so I stuck on The Simpsons on All4 to see if she’s like it and thankfully she did so I got to spend the day watching some shows for adults. I ended up watching about five episodes but sadly they were from season 30 so they weren't the best. Man I can remember watching an episode in 2003 watching an episode where Bart moves out and makes friends with Tony Hawk and I can remember thinking the show was running out of ideas even then and this was almost 20 god Damn years ago. I think they broke through the bottom of the barrel a long time ago and now they’re feasting on the dirt that the barrel was on top of. In the episode I watched Krusty is a guest on Marc Maron’s podcast and tells him the story of when he made a movie with Homer and Marge. Although the joke count is still high that's really the only thing that resembles the Golden Age of this show which was at one point considered the greatest television show ever made. There's no satire, no biting commentary, no character analysis, it just feels so damn lifeless and it feels like any other animated comedy show where the writers just come up with 100 gags and try to string them together in a way that seems to indicate a plot (Which come to think of it is exactly what I'm doing with the script I'm writing what now so perhaps the pot should hold off insulting the kettle).

0 notes