Cringing

Some of you likely know what it is like to be hit often as a child.  I got hit, but I don’t think that was the principle problem.  The principle problem was that I got a stick with no carrot.  It was never clear to me who I was supposed to be to not get hit.  I suppose these 1,000 plus posts may be attempts to answer that question, although of course the actual situation is much more complex.

Thinking back, all these years later, I feel this sense of cringing, that moment before you get hit, or, to the point I want to make here, before you THINK you’re going to get hit, but don’t.

When you get hit, you feel pain.  When you cringe, you tense your body up, in anticipation of pain, but the pain need never come.  You can cringe your whole life and never get hit again.  As Springsteen put it: “You end up like a dog that’s been beat too much/and spend half your life just covering up.”

I think the brave life is to learn how to “uncringe”, how to let your pains be actual. 

I did martial arts for six years or so, where I would leave with bruises more often than not several times a week.  The trick in my style–and I would suggest all effective styles that don’t incorporate outright cringing/flinching in to them–was to take a hit in a relaxed way, to always stay lose and relaxed, no matter what.  That is good training, and physically I’m largely able to do it.  I just need to figure out how to do it emotionally.

I don’t like sharing, but feel this may be useful for someone.