Letter to a Friend – who’s thinking about quitting

So I get up this morning feeling o.k. It’s the first day back at work after dental surgery. A week ago, I’d gone to the hospital’s Same Day Surgery unit to have a couple of cyst removed along with an impacted wisdom tooth. One of the cyst was logged along the jaw bone – the mandible on the lower right side – making it a bit more complicated to take out. They really did a number on my inner jaw – lot of cutting and a lot of stitches. Luckily for me, the nerve that runs through the mandible bone was not severed. So the dental surgeon explained that the numbness I’m feeling in my lower lip, stretching down through my front bottom teeth, will eventually go away.

Lucky too, that my jaw didn’t have to be broken to remove the adjacent cyst. They did scrape the bone, however. And they did say that now, with the extraction, there isn’t any bone support in that area of the jaw, and until I totally heal – about 3 or 4 months – I have to be real careful not to get hit on that side of my mouth – or I’ll likely break the bone. Dodged another one, I suppose – so far.

Nevertheless, about mid day on this first day back at work, I’m starting to feel bad. I have a Stomach-ache, of all things. I don’t have the flu. Maybe a bit of a coughing cold, but nothing more, they say, probably from coming down off all the meds associated with the surgery. Something, they say, about a reduced resistance….But, the pain in my gut, actually seemed to emanate from my lower back. I had a heck of a time sitting in the car on the drive home from work. I’m wondering: “What’s this about? What now! Feels like old age. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.” Anyway the pain was discomforting enough to send me home to bed at 4:00 p.m.

By 5:30 I felt like shit! Gut wrenching pain made sleep a hopeless wish! Couldn’t even lay down. There was now way to get away from the pain. There’s no position I could get into. Basically there was no relief from the pain. I resorted to waiting it out in the bathroom – hoping upon hope to just explode – out of one end or the other – or both – for no other reason than to get this whole ordeal over with. But nothing!! Just Pain.

Time crawls. The pink stuff we take for stomach disorders doesn’t help. Alkalines make me burp. But the pain persists on. I’m looking at my belly like it’s a gut about to burst. But nothing. So, I start thinking, flash back like, about my dental surgery. I’m remembering how much I really didn’t like looking up at that big light they position over you when you laying on the table in the OR – operating room. It was déjà vu. I could clearly remember the OR from the stroke. I remembered thinking about the fragility of life. Unpleasant reminders. Too many – and here I was again – feeling fragile. And on my first day back to my life again – I’m feeling about as miserable as possible – once again.

I even tried to do a few sit ups on the Ab Roller I keep next to my bed. The action of doing sit ups tends to move along my “regularity,” so to speak. I figured that it was worth a try. I normally do about 400 sit ups in the morning before I go to the bathroom. This night I couldn’t do 20 without stopping. “Whoa!,” I’m thinking: “How Bad Is That!?”

There’s nothing like extraordinary times to bring out extra ordinary expressions in us. Good or bad, ready or not, life happens. So, anyway, in this quagmire of my own misery, trudging from the bathroom to the bedroom, and getting no relief in either place, my mind wanders off to recall an email conversation with my friend, and his dilemma. He’s my age, and has his own tales to tell of the ravages of time playing on his once athletic and determined self. I felt compassion for his circumstances, even though just hours ago I’d admonished him for thinking that way.

He is, after all an accomplished person in his own right, and a senior Black Belt, who in addition is a former karate champion under my tutelage. But he’s thinking about packing it in. Considering his run of ill fortune in the physicality area – over the past year…regardless of the fact that it isn’t attributable to his martial arts training, I can understand.

Hard to argue with this logic: "I severed an Achilles tendon and a tore my right arm lower bicep muscle from the bone," he wrote. "I had major surgery to remove a deteriorated joint in my foot and need to consider doing the other foot. I am not listing these physical problems as “poor me” but to be reflective that I want a year with no major physical breakdowns."

Anyway, that is where my mind wandered off to, while “hanging on” in the bathroom. That in turn reminded me of an early morning news report recently on the number of baby boomer generation - athletes who’re showing up in medical offices with “issues” related to the aging of the athletes. The M.D. in the news report called it: “Boomeritus,” as essentially a condition of athletes still trying to “get it done,” when they are perhaps just a bit past their prime. Parts do wear out.

Hey, life happens. I am sustained by the good advice of my Pop – who’ll be 80 in a few years – who as a senior athlete told me to do what ever I need to do to keep my stuff together --- (which ain’t exactly what he said, but it’s close enough.) This was his response when I lamented about the series of dental and eye, and urologic, issues I was having within a few years of my bout with a major stroke.

It does seem like I’m going to more doctors than ever before. And, I am still amazed at how long it is on the journey back from stroke. It’s just getting to where I can go upstairs – fast – without holding on! Amazing as it is - how long it is on the road back. yet I will admit to being grateful for having had such a great run, as a top class athlete, that reached into my 5th decade of life…. But, life happens, inevitably, and so does getting older.

So, in the midst of this day dream, the thought comes to me to take a couple of the penicillin pills the doc’s gave me to fend off infection, following the surgery. What do you know – by 7:30 -- I am in slumber-land.

I awoke in the middle of the night – and whipped out the lap top to capture this moment. Curious it is, how being “pain free” can be so peaceful. It’s a blessing. It also makes one appreciate the simple joy of being alive.

So, why am I sitting up with the rising sun to write this. The best I can think is to say to my friend: Hey friend – I understand.

SENSEI AL GETS A HOLE IN ONE


The account of my most exciting moment in golf, is as much a testimony to the perserverance of rehabilitation, as it is a Golfing Success story. For me, an accomplished 30-plus-year veteran instructor, and martial arts adept, (Sensei), who for the past five years has been in the struggle of the long road back from a debilitating stroke --- this golfing triumph speaks volumes about the road to recovery.

Golf has been for me, a sure fire way to measure the progress of rehabilitation. You can easily tell how far you've come, by how well you are able to play the game. To those that don't play, that may seem like a curious statement at first. Certainly, in my case, considering my formidable martial arts background - pre stroke. For, today I still teach a full compliment of martial arts classes in my school. And, there are many, many opportunities for me to test my "return to form" within the context of what I can and still have difficulty doing in Karate, Aikido, and Jiujitsu.

However, I suffered a stroke at age 52. It was a hemoragic stroke in the area of my brain that controls motor skill function - my cerebellum. Mentally I was not affected, however, I did lose muscle control. On an athletic level, before the stroke, I could perform in martial arts as effectively as I could at age 22 --- which was frankly - impressive. Now, I'm at age 56. The stroke has, in addition to compromising my more athletic skills, has made me act -- a bit more my age -- so to speak.

Nevertheless, this game of golf doesn't require running, jumping, and athleticism of the kind that depends on youthful speed and dexterity. On the other hand, it certainly requires a blending of refined focus, balance, felxibility, and mental and muscular control. Most athletes will agree that it is likely the toughest game they've ever tried to master. And I was getting along pretty good at it, before I became ill. While I'm no pro - the golfers will appreciate that prior to my stroke in October of 2002, I was shooting scores in the low 90's, which is beyond beginner and enough to make you feel good about your chances for improving. I could drive the ball about 230 to 250 yards, was better than that around the greens, and kept the 3 putts to perhaps once or twice a round.

In year one following the stroke I had trouble standing still over putts. I'd lose my balance to the point of getting dizzy in the golf swing. I still have trouble seeing the ball after I hit it - as the ability to "track" the flight of the ball is a visual motor skill that my eyes don't have fully back yet. By year two following the stroke I could swing without getting too dizzy, but I still lost four or five shots out of 10 when the ball was struck, and I was pretty shaky still. Frankly, it wasn't until four years later that I finally began to feel better about being able to control my swing mechanics. And then:

Dateline: Tuesday, May 15th at about 3:15 p.m. Sensei Alan was standing on the 5th Tee at the Scotch Hills Country Club. It was a par 4 - measuring approximately 230 yards from the yardage marker, with the green situated atop a steep incline. The tee box is also elevated making the challenge of the hole to hit from hill top to hill top. However, on this day the Tees were located at the top-right most area of the tee box, making the actual distance about 200 yards.

Sensei actually took a mighty swing - (trying to knock the cover off the ball) - and ended up hitting air! That's right - he whiffed it on the first try. That drew an immediate ranking from his playing partner --- (that's right - I had a witness!!!).

Undaunted, the Sensei steped away from the tee - had a little talk with himself about slowing down the swing - and stepped back up to take another cut. His easy swing on the next attempt was rewarded with a crisp ping and a pop on the golf ball -- which launched off in the direction of the green.

The ball landed a short distance off the green, took a forward hop and rolled up on top. Sensei was elated to find that he'd drove the green on the tee shot. But, when he arrived there to see the lie, he found the ball was no where in sight. Figuring that he'd rolled off the back of the green, into the waiting trap, he set himself to getting up and down for a Birdie - 3.

"Look in the cup" - said his playing partner --- who just happened to be a guy named "Moses!"

He did and there was the ball Sensei had struck just minutes earlier!!! WOW - simply doesn't describe the sound the ole Sensei made upon seeing that ball!!!!

The Lesson: Rehabilitation is important mostly as a way of reclaiming self control, self determination, and a sharpening of the will to be more than what fate has wrought. Giving up is acquiesces to what is --- but if you want more for you -- than you must be willing to do more for you. There are no guarantees. Would that there were. But, I don't believe that's what it's all about. The "true" guarantee is that; in the doing is the declaration to "BE" more than what is --- if you simply choose to not give up! Never give up! Your resovle is the reward.

Everything else is a bonus!

Signed:

Grand Master Alan Simms
9th Degree Black Belt Goshi Shun Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Aikijutsu
Golden Life Achievement Award - World Christian Martial Arts Hall of Fame
Save The Children- Black Belt Hall of Fame
International Association of Martial Artist - Black Belt Hall of Fame
World Black Belt – Hall of Fame

The hooded sweats I was wearing made a sound with each stride. It sounded like I was being followed. I’d look back while running to see who was behind me. But, no one was there. I imagined that the sound heard, was the sound of my old companion, death, stalking me. That sobering and yet scary thought, helped to keep me moving.

But, still in all, I remember wondering, "where is the familiar pain in my hip that was screaming at me just two days before?" Absent? Curious? I wondered: Had a barrier been surpassed - in so short a time? Gone too was the aching numbness in my legs and feet. However it was replaced with pain in the lower back. This was yet another sobering reality. For there is nothing like lower back pain, when you're running, to make you want to quit. That pain had brought me to a virtual halt, on a morning run, about two weeks earlier. Back pain makes me want to stop running and walk it out.

Today, however, I felt there was enough energy left in the tank, so to speak, to lift up my torso, rotate those hips, and adjust my running form – to do a bit more. and when I did, the lower back pain did subside – enough anyway, so that I was able to push on. However, I was still running with the feeling of that "swish, swish" sound in pursuit.

This sound following me, the constant pain, the desire to give up, these were not unfamiliar feelings, but they were as always a curious experience, these very personal battles with pain, in the struggle to rehabilitate. The experience is all at once a combination of trials and tribulations; moments of a character defining challenge, that constantly tests and offering intermittent blasts of self awareness.

Who was it that said: "Pain helps you know that you're alive."

I actually like the challenge of being able to define for yourself, exactly who you are, by what you do. I like the realness of it all. There is no way to B.S. yourself. Although we try. But we know all the buttons to push. We know where all our secret "quit place" is hiding. And it seems that when we push it, especially by decision, that where ever the chain is most weak, the strain will show through. And yet, that's where we have the greatest opportunity to redefine-exactly who we are. By Doing! By facing what will be and what can be. Getting it done - in the zone of the living!

One Mo, One Mo - tomorrow is coming - but not before I hit the gym - tonight!

I was released from the hospital where the surgery took place and arrived in the rehab hospital on a stretcher one day in November - about a month after the stroke. I started off my stay in the rehab facility having stormy relationships with nearly all of my therapists - a story I'll get to later.

I was in the rehab hospital for a few months. It was there that I began that long journey to recovery, and consequently first realized how the stroke had impaired my vision. In fact, I believe that I was still experiencing a loss of motor skill function, even after the surgery was successful! It felt like certain brain cells were still on their way "off line,"although no one ever told me that. It just felt that way. It is true thought that my overall level of activity increased with the change in hospitals, and therefore impairments probably became more obvious.

As I said: following the stroke I knew that I couldn't walk. Heck, I couldn't eat without missing my mouth with the fork. I had trouble manipulating my eyes to move in sync, so reading was a major problem. The old eyeballs didn't work together. While one eye would track horizontally across, like what occurs when we read, the other eye, would move out of sync. For instance: I could read across a column of words in my bible, but couldn't get my eyes to go to the first word of the next line down. Frustrating as heck!

Changing views with our sight is something we take forgranted. The act of simply turning my head to look in another direction was down right disorientating. It's a trip when that simple behavior causes dizzieness and disorientation. Equalibrium is affected. You can't focus right away. And, the dizzy affect can last for seconds longer. The passing of time - seconds even, seem much longer.

One of my therapist - with whom I developed a good rapor, had this exercise where she used a string about 10 feet in length, strung with three different color wooden beads. The beads were shaped like tiny footballs, with holes through the center, that allowed the beads to slide along the length of the string. The task for the patient was to focus on each bead in turn.

I'd be instructed to hold the string to my nose and look down the line of string at each of the first of the wooden beads. Focusing both eyes on the same bead meant forcing my eyes to look inward - the therapist called it "conversion" - which is to make the many tiny muscles in the both eyes focus inward on the bead - sort of like making your eyes cross.

Here's the problem: When I first looked at the any of the beads on the string - I saw double. My job was to cross my eyes to blend the two images into one. I would see two beads - double vision - because in my state each eye would focus on the same bead - but separately. We can all create this effect if we hold up a finger in front and close to your nose, you'll see double too. Until you "cross your eyes" to make the double image blend into one.

I'd see double anytime I tried to focus on an object. The beads could be one, two or ten feet away. I'd still see double. For therapy, I'd have to look alternately from the first bead to the second, and then to the third, each spaced about to two feet apart along the length of string, and make my eyes "converge" - or blend the double image into one.

I found this to be a great exercise - if a frustraing as heck one. It took me straight to my dizzy place too! Three years later, I still get dizzy.

Eventually, I got so I could focus on the first two beads though. With much effort I could blend the double image into one. Then, with more effort, I could focus on the second bead and blend the double image into one. But, no manner of facial contortion, squinting, or whatever seemed to make it possible to blend the double vision of the third bead - which was located down the string about six or seven feet away.

Then this little voice in my head says: "Throw the dart!" Like throwing darts!!! I think, o.k. I like to throw darts, I'll give it a shot. It seemed like as soon as I said that, the third, most distant bead litterally "slammed" into focus! No kiddin! I didn't believe it. I closed my eyes, shook my head, and tried again.

Same thing. I'm looking down the string at the double vision of the third bead....(note; this is after successfully focusing alternately on the first and second beads). Then there's the third bead - or rather two of them - looking back at me...double!!!

Then the little voice says: "Throw the darts!" Wham - the double vision of beads Slams back together again. "WoW!" I am thinking this is fantastic!

Right there, I learned a lesson about the way people - or at least I - recall information. I couldn't figure out how to manipulate my vision....but I did have perfect recall on the way inwhich I "throw darts." And in throwing darts, or rather in actualizing the behavior that was stored in my memory that was associated with dart throwing - I was able to move my eyes! The eyes moved! In sync! And all by the simple recall of a behavior - throwing darts - that I couldn't seem to conjure up by rote!

That was an epiphany! I couldn't command my eyes to focus in convergence, but just by saying: "Throw the Dart," the memory of the behavior, saved in another part of my mind, saved as a Feeling!!! Amazing!

I learned by that exercize that we store details as a "feeling" We can have a whole bunch of details that we've learned about doing a thing...but we store it as one thing. We recall that feeling as a series of movements...but we store as one feeling...! Simply amazing!

For example: If I ask you what vanilla ice cream tastes like - you will remember it as a feeling...but you'd have to find words, and details, i.e., data - to accurately decribe the taste that you felt.

Nevertheless, the feeling is recalled as "one-thing." The explanation of that one-thing involves multiple details...texture, temperature, type of taste by comparison, etc.

I stored the multiple data bits associated with dart throwing as "one thing" that recalled a set of physical behaviors - among which necessitated that my eyes move together....And they did so without my conscious command to make it happen. The details of coordinated eye movement occurred "subconsciously" by way of the indirect suggestion of throwing darts!...that's amazing!

I now believe that we store the millions of data bits in our memories, as a finite and rather small number of "feelings." I don't know how many different feelings we have...but I don't think that there are that many, and I believe we use those feelings to recall countless amounts of "data bits" that would clutter the mind if we didn't file them away so neatly.

Speaking as Sensei Alan, I teach: "People don't do that many things....People do a few things in many different ways."

Like the way just eight notes of the musical scale comprise every song we've ever heard. Like the 3 primary colors have been used to create every painting or picture that we've ever seen. All these things are remembered - as feelings! The bottom line: while we feel one thing, or taste, or experience - we recall it in many, many details. And the function of recalling occurs in a different mental place, than conscious commands recall.

The day my eyes responded to the recall of "darts" - was the day I re-learned that lesson, like never before.

Ain't Dead - and Ain't Acting Like it:

I can understand why some would not try! or The Road Back is all Up Hill!

It's the little things that we take for granted that get to you the most....
Like stepping off a curb without looking down....
Like carrying a cup of coffee, back to your seat, without spilling it...
Like recognizing that you are spending more time with the "mechanics" of reading.....
Then actually reading....
Like speaking what's on your mind, and upon hearing yourself, remembering just how you sound, and suddenly knowing why the one you're speaking to, curls up their face upon listening.
Like turning around instinctually and dealing with the dizzy feeling that follows.
Like remembering, as you clumsily step fast across the street to beat the changing light's traffic, that you don't really know how to run that well...and then trying mostly not to fall.

And in the gym

Like noticing how your strength isn't the same....nor is your flexibility....nor is your acute ability to spin on a dime....but recognizing at the same time that there are some aspects that have improved.

Bottom line: It's amazing how far it is on the road back!

And, while it's equally incredible is how far I've come....(so say others), but that there is still so very, very, very far to go!!! Whoa! With nothing other than faith - that you'll ever get there - where ever there is....

I can thoroughly understand why some would give up.
but, I'd rather die trying, than give up...

The pull to give up - feels like just wanting to go lay down...but it also feels like dying.

I don't know if I can pull all the way up!!!...cause, with this, you don't know, until you do....and then curiously enough, you end up knowing more about what you still "can't do" - as well as feeling grateful for what "new" thing just returned!!!

But, I'll walk on by faith.

Cause staying like this....is just unacceptible!

On Dave Letterman's late night television talk show the other night, there was a guy showing how to save yourself from falling through a thin spot in the ice. He said one idea is to hang on the side of the broken ice, and maybe get stuck to it. He spoke about a guy who got his beard stuck, and how it saved his life....

Getting stuck is so that if you go unconscious you don't slip back into the water and drown.

I can dig it. The desire to let go - in this ordeal - is similar to slipping back - into the darkness. It feels like letting go. Going to sleep! Saying, "The Hell With It!"
But there ain't no ice to get stuck to!

It is your own "Will" which is the ice! Jeez! If you get stuck - it's like being stuck to a belief, it's like being stuck on a concept! Ultimately it's a function of your Will. Which means essentially, that you need to get "stuck on Life."

However, to appreciate Life - i.e., having a life; living a life; experiencing the wonders and marvelousness of a life; you may often need to be reminded - frequently - of a reason...Why! Cause "Self Pity" tends to weaken the wonderment of life... And in this ordeal, the drudgery of rehab is like waiting for a rescue - a rescue from life's down side. And you're all alone....noticing the little normally unnoticable things. And, You don't know if rescue is gonna happen! You don't know - But, unless you do stick it out and try - you do know - exactly what is going to happen!

Nothin Good!

And then if, and when, something good does happen - It feels like a blessing. Cause, truth be told, you're not altogether sure you did it, anyway! You know that when healing occurs - You know that it didn't have to happen...You understand that it just did! Life wasn't promised! But nevertheless, it just occurred!

Good things happening - as well as bad - make you think about God!

Heck of a feeling! Not being able to Do!
Heck of a feeling, not being able to do what you can see, feel, and remember yourself doing.

Nothing to do, but to do it anyway.....If you've got the Will!

I don't know if I can...cause in this experience, you don't know you can do, until you do....

But, I'll walk on by faith.

But, damn.....I understand those who don't!

(For those who've read the above before - I see the above as the beginning of the third installment of what may become my initial book on the subject. In a future post I'll offer information as to how the manuscript can be downloaded via E-book).

Here's more:


I've lived to appreciate the training I received becoming a "Sensei." I know, indisputably, today, that the preparation I received then, is the reason why I'm able to report now, on what I'm writing about.

The doctor's said this all along. They were refering to the focused determination...the action of the "Will." Something they surmised was the positive result of years of mental, physical, and emotional control learned through my training. But, somehow it didn't quite mean the same... I felt then, as I do now, that the road back is terribly long... There's nothing easy about this! No Way! I certainly do understand, in a most personal way, why others have decided to give up.

But the thing is...the thing that I want all who're reading this to understand is that you've got to recognize at the outset: Is that there is no gurantee of success! Getting the courage up to Do doesn't in itself guarantee success -no sirr! The effort to "Do" doesn't mean that you will ultimately get things going your way. Doing doesn't gurantee success. However, not doing is a sure enough guarantee of accepting your fate. Which in the story I'm about to tell, meant death.

I simply chose to act on my fate, rather than accepting what was offered. The trick is to learn to master the Will to do what needs doing. Excellence is achieved in the "doing" - in traveling the wa - in putting it all together. Success and failure belong to the aftermath. We don't control outcomes.

We only control our next decision. Excellence is a decision.

I do wish, however, that my martial arts master was alive to share this tale with. He brought me through so much, that was then and even now being tested. Perhaps this book is in some ways an unloading of sorts. Perhaps it is a way of communicating.

I have a whole new way of appreciating the preparation I received in the last 10 years of my master's life. He passed of a massive heart attack in 1988. He too had uncontrolled hypertension. However, in his case, Death had taken the one I thought of as invincible. Now it was my turn, I thought, but not without preparation. Take for example this scenerio:

Back in my training days my master would put me in jiu jitsu holds that would cut off my wind. I'd spend what seemed like enternities without air. And then, when it seemed that I could take no more; sure that I was about to pass out, expire, or whatever; my master would loosen his grip and I could "sip" a little air. It was always about as much air as you could sip through a swizzel stick - like the kind they serve with cocktails in a bar. Not much air, that's for sure...not at first, anyway. Later, that tiny sip of air would be something to appreciate! That sip of air was enough to be "life giving."

Now, in the hospital there were many, many times when lying in the bed, air flow to my lungs would suddenly just stop! I might find myself awakened to a state of not breathing; or maybe i'd already be alert, when the air flow would just stop. Jeez!

I have one of those moments when thoughts in the mind just seem to whizz by! I'd think - "This is it! This is the time I'd been expecting. Death was at hand."

There was always, accompaning those moments, an undeniable urge to just let go...as in "go with it." I clearly remember that urge. It felt llke a draw...or a lure. The urge - seemed to say through what I felt - silent words which were almost soothing - "you can just relax and let this struggle go. It'll be an easy out!"

"Hell no," I remember thinking. (I used to cus a lot, back then. As a matter of fact, I probably didn't say the word "hell!" Truth is that back in the war in which I lived, I cussed a bit. I cussed in order to brace up - I cussed like I needed to get motivated enough, i.e. mad enough - to live).

"Hell No," I'd say to myself, thinking...."I'm gonna turn over." Somehow I knew that not turning over, i.e., staying in the same position meant - I couldn't get my breath back - not turning over meant giving in to death. So, I'd have to shift positions, move my chest to another angle in the bed...turn the heck over...if I was to live.

I'm not trying to give the impression of being a tough guy here. Scared, yes. Scared stiff - no. My master used to say that we can become scared stiff - like the saying goes -or we can be scared fast! He'd say: "Getting scared 'fast' is just a different treatment of the same emotion."

So, I'd get moving. Besides, I'd been here before. I reckonned that it'd take me the better part of a minute and a half to switch positions. Heck, that was at least a couple of seconds better than my master ever permitted...and there was NO moving when he put you in one of those lock down holds of his. I wasn't unprepared! I could do this!!!

So, I'd get moving. Understand that with the kind of cerebellum bleed I suffered, loss of muscle control is the biggest consequence. Turning over was an event of significance! Nevertheless, I figured that if I didn't panic I'd either make it....or not. Chances were better if I stayed cool and didn't unnecessarily burn what oxygen I had.

Staying put, on the other hand, meant I wasn't making it, for sure. "What the heck," I thought. "Get going...and don't waste energy!!!!"

And the little voice in my head would say: "So, you wanna be Sensei!" - Yes, damnit, Hell Yes!

It's important to understand that I didn't approach the effort of turning over while thinking that I was gonna make it. Cause frankly, I didn't. I remember thinking that such thoughts would be a bit presumptuous! Fate could easily prove me wrong. Besides, I had no way of knowing what was going to happen. I just did what the old saying says:

Hope for the Best! Prepare for the Worse! And, take what comes......

Here in the midst of the struggle, a turn here, a twist there...a shift in the angle of my chest...and....ssssisst! A tiny swizzel of air! Air! Life! I live! Just like in my master's grip! I live again!!!! YESS!!!

You don't know, but, hey...Life goes on! Whew! Dodged another one!

After this happens a dozen or so times, you get braver! It's like you know what to do...and even though you're playing in a life and death game, you are more skillful in the knowledge that with Will there can be a Way. So you get busy and turn over....

And, Hell Yes, I darn sure do want to be Sensei!!!