GINGERMAN's blog

How does it begin; let's see. It's that time of year when... But you know the next few words, don't you? But, the world hasn't and it isn't likely to either. Hmmm, let me see. What is it I am supposed to be about?

I am a member of a group of men, and a few women, whose chief interest is engaging in some form of martial art, whether it be wrestling, boxing, judo, Muay Thai, etc. In short, fighting. It would be a real stretch to think that this is about anything but involvement in aggressive acts for the satisfaction of dominating or being dominated by an opponent. Gosh, I am one of those, aren't I? Well, I guess I should be at it; time is after all awasting.

So, what, I repeat, am I about at this time now? Give me a break! Am I supposed to throw “engines in reverse and go at flank speed” as the Captain of the Ship? My ship, that is? And, do what? Oh, yes, they want me to now reach out in genuine friendship, embrace the world in love. Hmmm. Seems to be that what they expect me to do cast aside for a brief period of time---that is, suspend reality, and actually put on a some sort of smilng face that will warm the stranger as I approach him, and strive to promote peace and goodwill.

I am sorry, Ebenezer Scrooge had it right, “Humbug!” Besides, the Bard instructed us in the right: “To thine own self be true.” So, I am not going to suddenly be the very antithesis of what I am, a fighter. Were I to be, to do differently, would be a sham, wouldn't it? It is winter; it is cold outside; and, the only really merry folks are those who look to the spending and the feasting of those taken in by this season's promotions. It's the businesses and the multi-national corporations that seek to profit from such nonsense.

And, yet, there are those somewhat haunting words of the poet, Thomas Hardy,, in his poem, The Oxen. Are you familiar with it? Allow me to quote it.

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock.
     "Now they are all on their knees,"
An elder said as we sat in a flock
     By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
     They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
     To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
     In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
     "Come; see the oxen kneel,

In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
     Our childhood used to know,"
I should go with him in the gloom,
     Hoping it might be so.

Oh, what the... Okay, I'll pretend, and who knows? Besides what harm is there in it?
After all, what have I lost? So, what do you say? Will you join me in this what some would call a fool's errand?