Bus Zen

There is a kind of Zen involved in going to train in the city.

Plenty of time for everything on the way in. I am out the door before 7:30am to catch a ferry that will get me to Marc's Jiu-Jitsu academy by the noon start time.

Even with the bus transfers, there is still too much time, so I go to Starbucks for coffee, and sometimes a snack, and a good long sit-down.

The trip home is less puffy. The finish time is a little soft. If we don't roll a lot, there is time for a quick bite before boarding the first bus. If we roll all the way to the official end time, or even later, haste has to take over or I'll miss my boat, and get home two full hours later than the goal back-in-the-door time of 5:30pm.

None of it is stressful, as getting to training is always easy, and failing to catch the right boat home only entails a delay which doesn't really impact anything at all, other than evening TV viewing.

It is full of differing paces. Some is fast, some slow; some connections come late, and some are impossibly early. Each is a step, or a milestone; they pass and are replaced by the next.

The training in the midst of all the travel is an oasis of calm, cooperation, and quiet voices discussing movements of violence. Rolling as if lives were at stake, but with relaxation and precision. Frantic has no hold on these mats.