Parkour

When I was little I played around in a gymnasium. I was an amateur gymnast. Ten years on and I still like to play around in gymnasiums. A mixture of injury, apathy and the summer holiday gym closure has meant that I’ve not been to gymnastics for over three months. Until the gym opens again I’m having to satisfy my need to watch guys do crazy stuff via the medium of youtube:

Also, some drawings I have made of parkour:

I am writing a novel for teenagers that incorporates parkour. The last drawing is of a main character in that novel; Scott. Watch this space for further info.

Jump into the Void

I take in a gulp of crisp cold air, filling my lungs with it. My palms stick and my heart drums heavily in my chest. The rocks beneath my bare feet have soaked in the heat of the sun that the wind steals out of the air. The landscape rolls out in front of me. Between here and there is a sea of dimpled rock. Huge ravines and gaps span outwards. I stand at the edge of one now.
One. Two. Three. Jump into the void. My muscles scream as I push upwards. The cold blue air rushes against my skin. I have become a bird. Free and light.
When I land it is with a heaviness. The rock is hard and unyielding. My skin soft and exposed.
I take a shaky breath and look back. The ravine looks darker now. Deeper. What if I had fallen? Shakily I press onwards. Put one foot forward. Now the path is clearer and the next gap a comfortable distance, I can truly soak it up. This place is so big. So empty. The sky is a blanket above. The rocks like some other world. Smooth faces with rounded bumps. Gritty under my feet but clean and gentle to my eyes. I walk slowly, extending the time between now and the next gap, the next jump into the void.

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This was the second freewritten piece I wrote for the writing workshop I attended recently. We were asked to chose a picture from a small selection and to set the scene of the picture. I couldn't believe it when I saw this one in the pile. I grabbed it and started writing straight away.

The Bird

This is some little thing I wrote and made into a booklet to send to Emily a while ago.

I stand up on a high hill. All is saturated in colour. Blue, green and yellow. My hair whips at my cheeks, playing in the wind, dancing and free. Above, there is a buzzard, screeching and swooping in great arcs. I watch it, thinking about how that bird is in-tune with the air and its body; efficient and lithe. The bird will grow old and die, but it will not get so old that it will no longer be able to swoop. It will die before then. If I am to live out an average life of a human I will grow old, and then older than old, and I will probably not be able to move very well by that time. Swooping will be out of the question. And I consider this fact and I come to a conclusion.

I am already old because I do not swoop. What is the point of having a body if I do not swoop? Unlike that bird up there I am disconnected from my body. It is an alien and strange thing to me. I do not know how to move it with poise and efficiency. So let me tell you this, bird in the sky: I will learn how to swoop and I will not be afraid of injuring myself because right now I am worse than injured; I am barely alive. I am old now, but I can learn to be young.

I will kick the moon. I will salto. I will butterfly twist. I will jump into the void. I will not become a buzzard, but I will become a human.

Flowing Flexuous Movement.

Four Days Previously…

Why do I feel compelled to do stupid shit, goofing around and making things worse? I hurt my back some weeks ago lifting something heavy when in a bad mood. Don’t ever lift something heavy when in a bad mood; it’ll stick to you for weeks maybe months. Since then I’ve gone between resting it properly, still doing stuff but nothing too strenuous, to then having the sudden notion that I’d like to do some cartwheels and handstands. Then bam: back to square one. Today it was leaping over some logs in the woods. My back felt ok before that. I’d been doing yoga and gentle stretches, my back had been feeling fine for a short while. Not anymore. Not after that giant leap I did. I felt it when I landed. Hot and stiff. It’s been four weeks like this; to the day. Four weeks of being forced to reign in my yearning for pushing my body into flowing flexuous movement.

Typically I acquired an epiphany about four days after I initially did my back in. This epiphany was something like this: youth is all about the body. The only thing I truly have any ownership of is my body, yet I do nothing much with it. I was inspired to get fit, strong, flexible so that I can have the freedom of movement and total command of my own faculties. But I keep doing stupid shit that means I have to wait for another however long until I can really do anything more than the easier yoga poses.

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(For Monday)