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Sometimes when I get to roll with Professor, the experience is nothing
short of a mind fuck. He does what he does, slowly, methodically,
relaxed, laughing. But the positions are exotic to my white belt
student mind. Position is a terribly inadequate word, implying that
what he does is understandable in a quantifiable, component set of
static placements. No, the movements are in a realm of movement I
don't think in yet. When he rolls like this I am a grain of sand with
an ocean floating around me. When he moves on to another student I sit
there on the mat, perfectly uninjured, but my mind has been blown. I
am waking up from a dream world: I was there, participating, but deep
down completely helpless. What the heck just happened to me? |
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