Like a Fighter that KNOWS his Kung-Fu

note: I’m trying to write at least 750 words per day as some kind of writing kata via and this is a little bit stream-of-consciousness so please bear with me 🙂 and oh yeah, some kind of text analysis here 😛

equity and justice.

she who honors a prophet, a mouthpiece, receives a prophet’s reward.

there are people who just love you for who you are no matter if other people try to paint you into a corner


be put in their box of

contrivances, presumptions, assumptions, misconceptions and unjustified imaginations

– we know who they are –

for these people,

words are cheap

– as if love and

care and

empathy and

affection and

all those fluffy emotions that come with it can be communicated just by simply saying it and

not partnering it with action: you will find out that those who really really really know you,

those who can see you like a mirror,

those who can share your view of your innermost being actually know how to communicate

with their shared silence,

with their silent concurrence,

with their shared nodding of their heads are those that actually share the same language of what you are going through,

for even though,

the battles that come are painful and exhilarating,

as if riding the most





speakeasy, speakamazing, speakencouragely, speak-into-your-future, speakgodly, speakspiritually


you know in your knower-of-knowers that life would be oh-so-boring if everything was just plain boring and mundane

– they understand even as a blessing, a tiny one from afar, a very very humongous actually from up close and personal

– she who takes up the cudgels for those she doesn’t know

– people or groups that do not even need to defend themselves

– people or groups that could stand on their own – people or groups who just stand at the sidelines

– for all they knew, for she knew

– there IS someone watching,

someone weighing everything in the balance,


you know that there is a reward, a reward that’s coming


because when you draw a line on the sand

and you wanted to know who took which side is which,

whose side is what on,

whose side of the line on the sand is on

– streams-of-consciousness,

streams in the desert,

streams that refresh you

– when you think you are at the end of your rope,

when you think you are alone,

when you think you’re the only one fighting the fight

– you hear the trumpet sound,

not just one trumpet, not two trumpets, you hear at least seven trumpets, and

you look back and you see that there is this myriad of soldiers,

rows upon rows of warriors,

that you mentally compute to be at least twice whatever you are opposing

– and comfort,

a deep, deep comfort that feels like a garrison

– a barracks-like structure

– unassailable

– that even if the opposing army would come at you like a flood,

you know that the probabilities,

the possibilities,

the combinations,

the permutations,

the combinatorics of it all amount to an





on your part – that if you were to run a

thousand more simulations,

a thousand more undertakings,

a thousand more war games,

a thousand more confrontations

– you realize that

-there is no way in heaven,

no way in hell

– that your adversary



would even have a chance to win

– that even if the score was that skewed

– somehow, the skewness of your wins

– would not

seem random, would not

seem accidental, in fact it would be the

most normal

if not perfect way

to arrange this side of the universe

– it’s this kind of friendship that

you know

will last the tests of time,

the tests of grievance,

the tests of the highness,

the tests of lowness,

the tests of


that lends itself to forgiveness

– it leaves you in utter contempt of its opposite and whatever it represents

– so you ask again and again, for the want of asking you actually have not,

so you learned that in the multiplicity of embarrassments it actually


to not ask

because in the grace that enfolds all of us

– you begin to understand like a boxer that glides skillfully like a bee

– in and out

– like a fighter that knows his kung-fu,

like a monk who knows the notches on the cobbled stones in the temple

– you know that in fights like this, in places like this,

in corners that you find yourself seemingly cornered like this

– you know that the golden rule applies – that it is better to give than to receive.


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