Thursday, June 03, 2004

Body Moving
It's always interesting to be in class after Mestre's been away at a batizado or a weekend encontro, such as Chicote's this past Memorial Day holiday. You never can predict what he's bound to focus on, whether it's a general set of exercises or one specific movement.

Several weeks ago, after returning from England, he had us training close and defensive, practicing galopantes and takedowns. After Mariano's batizado he worked on fast games in the roda and our high, fancy kicks: au batidos, parafusos, esporraos. This week we are doing a lot of conditioning exercises -- situps, pushups... We are also concentrating on one movement, or a simple combination, rather than long, memorized sequencias.

No matter how often I get to class, a day or two off and a different set of exercises at week's beginning is enough to turn my body into a set of aching, sore parts. This week in addition to conditioning, we are working on our forms and technique -- clean, fast and powerful high kicks, arms always raised defensively. My triceps and abs are sore on this 2nd day of training; last week my calves burned steadily for at least 4 days straight. Our specific movement at the end of class and after the roda tonight was a backwards queda de rains: lean backward until you've supported yourself on your arms, and then bring the legs over in what looked like a slightly tweaked/ combined version of a volta por cima and queda de rains.

And each night I come home, and scan my body for each new abrasion -- I bruise easily, and mine usually look terrible, blooming red or brown or purple against pale skin. This week it is an angry umberish stain just below my waist and just above my hip-bone -- everyone has asked about it and I have to laughingly tell each inquirer that it's self-wrought from a few too many repetitive elbos in the waist (volta por cimas). Each night I look at my cut, torn feet with the agitated, roughened flaps of skin, hoping that the blisters are not too terrible, and scrub at the ground-in lines of dirt so easily accumulated at the Capp St. location. I wonder whether a day will ever arrive where my feet will form hard, calloused shells that nevermore tear nor rip.

This makes me think of a stanza in Yeat's Among Schoolchildren:

Labour is blossoming or dancing where
The body is not bruised to pleasure soul.
Nor beauty born out of its own despair,
Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil.
O chestnut-tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?

posted by claudine |Added at 12:48 AM| | capoeira