Culture shock
No matter how much I think I am ready for the life here in a crazy Western city, as opposed to my previous incarnation as a resident of a small Southeastern town, I ma still in shock.
And it is not only the differences in lifestyles, or the long absurd walks, or the hills that are reawakening my muscles and my mind.
It is also the new experience, the complete detachment from my previous life, the sense of arriving to a place in which my experiences and cultural background are somehow small and embryonic. I am a mere apprentice here.
A way to become a novice while attempting to maintain sanity.
As part of my effort to remain aware of myself, I am getting into some Aikido classes, and these are also a shock: instead of the rigid yet gentle approach that I have known before, here it is an individual thing. Sort of. I am confused.
So I look at myself in the mirror at the dojo: short, stocky form, powerful legs. My black tshirt doesn't help my mood, and I am constantly evaluating posture, breathing, ritual, movement, intention, determination, effectiveness. I am stumbling!
Finally, my uke tells me that, instead of being fast, I should be smooth.
Oh, it starts making sense.