I spent the morning doing a one on one wrestling lesson downtown with the most skillful wrestler I have ever encountered, and though I am pretty green in this area of my martial expertise, I am already starting to notice the effects in the short time I have spent with him. If I am going to make any kind of professional go at mma, this range of combat cannot be overlooked or underdeveloped. After my lesson the day was still relatively young and since I was already in the area I went for a short bike ride up to the art museum. I wandered the galleries, gazing through these little portals to the past, suspended in time. I was struck a ceramic piece from Ancient Greece depicting some form of unarmed grappling, and a feeling of history washed over me, if that makes any sense at all. Maybe I just mean a feeling of historical significance as I saw myself as part of an evolutionary path leading up to the present moment. I’m having trouble defining this, sensation...
I think people’s general reactions to being in an art museum are supposed to characterized be curiosity and wonder and while I feel these sensations too, they are nevertheless always overshadowed by this feeling that I am somehow walking through a tomb.
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