It is 5:51 AM and I’m up later than usual. Yesterday I had two karate sessions making four for the past two days and I’m battered and bruised. Surprisingly, it isn’t as bad as I had thought. When I first began I was afraid of getting punched, kicked and fighting in class. That fear has has decreased considerably as I’ve grown accustomed to it and my confidence has risen. I’ve also learned that a wrestling background really helps even if it was a lifetime ago. Seems like riding a bike to me as you never forget the basics. We cannot use throws or grabs – which I’ve done a couple of times when a partner gets too close to the surprise of a few black belts -but it helps maintain balance, my body moves naturally and it gives a lot of confidence.
It is 3:24 AM. It is a chilly 39 degrees outside and although there is a beautiful waning gibbous moon it remains very dark on the ground. When I step outside to look at the stars I see Orion, faithfully in the southern hemisphere confirming that it is the latter half of the year.
There is a quiet stillness to the very early morning that most will never experience. It is a time when one can be alone with themselves and their thoughts without the innumerable distractions that come when everyone and everything awakes.
It is 5:55 AM. I woke up around 4:30, drank a shot of wheatgrass, put away dry dishes and washed the dirty ones, made coffee, meditated, added to a post about my Grandpa and wished my childhood friend Ryan a happy 40th birthday. Still left to do are: write this post, study Japanese, put Sega and Nintendo emulators and roms on USB for another parent at school, take son to school, run reports, contact some corporate customers, clean the fishtanks and most likely go to the post office to mail a bunch of stuff the wife wants me to mail.
They say that old houses have memories and a distinct atmosphere created by the various inhabitants and what has occurred inside its walls over the decades. Time passes, children grow and families move away; yet each one leaves something behind which add to the character of the house. It could be something material such as a treasure hidden away in an air vent, or perhaps marks on the wall that measure a child’s height. I also believe that the actions, words spoken and feelings that took place inside the house also add a certain energy that although cannot be seen, still linger in some way even after many years have passed.
I have a reoccurring dream that comes once every year or so. In the dream I return to my childhood home on Meadow Road. It is a place I own and I have the keys in my pocket. Going inside it is I know that nobody has been inside in a very long time. In this shadowy dream world the house is dark and uninviting. The dream tells me this is my second home which I rarely frequent and am the only one in my family who does. I always end upstairs in my old bedroom which is also dark and it never occurs to me to turn on the lights.