life's aches and pains and sunday mornings

This morning, my breathing stopped. We were doing a contact drill in the jeet kune do class, and I took an unexpectedly hard knuckle in the solar plexus when I wasn't expecting it; and a whole bunch of involuntary functions - like heartbeat, breathing - went haywire for a second. Easy to see how you can kill someone with your hands like this.

Now I'm in a delicious fugue state that usually happens after any high-intensity physical activity followed by a bath, a pizza and a holiday. We're lying around like a pack of dogs - me, N, P, and Bd, on the mattresses amidst newspapers, music systems, wires, chargers, phones, and water bottles, alternating between F1, The Great Indian Comedy Challenge, the lifecycle of urban coyotes, napping, and SMSs.

It's like I can't move beyond the essentials - no need to. Thirsty, stretch a hand, pick bottle, drink. Send a message. Eat a Smokin' Joe's Special slice. Watch TV. Chew on a carrot. Zzzz. Smoke. Zzzz again. Stretch. Carrot.

Like a Tom & Jerry cartoon where everything you want - irons, anvils, baseball bats, pies - can be had by just reaching beyond the edge of the screen. Everything I want is within reach, and I don't even need to get up.

Sun. Day. Dozing.

God, my arms ache. Will need to start getting into some serious shape soon; Won't be able to keep up in the JKD at this rate, and I can kiss the mountain trip goodbye as well.

What do you describe that state when you know what you're going to do, and you know you're going to do it, and you want to do it, but... you're not doing it. Yet. Maybe the next second, the next hour, the next day... I guess the closest parallel is travelling, looking out of the window. Or the thinking-nothing phase during meditation, when you see grey-maroon shapes and hear faint wind-noises of your thoughts disappearing behind you as soon as they form, except for the one that says, any time now, any second, you're going to open your eyes - and conscious thought will begin again. Or sleeping in a cab. Or that pause before you sign, the pen a quarter-inch above the paper.

Today, that feeling is complete, all-pervasive, everywhere, everything. The Pause Before The Life.