THis afternoon, after the aforementioned rock piles, I practiced kumdo. I have a scene in my book coming up where there is a fight scene, and nothing quite puts my mind on tactics of small group skirmishes like practicing with my swords.

So I spent roughly 40 minutes practicing what I knew and could remember, seeing as how I had taken about 2 months off I was a bit confused on some parts but I finished them ok. At the last I was going to do 50 Pa-Ron-Mari’s(warm up head striking drills) in order to finish it off decently.

I was 20 into them, and twisting and striking on the 21st, my muscles in the mid of my back were pulled. It was goddamned pure agony.

It is still tough to breathe, it hurts that badly. I imagine the pain will last about 3 or 4 days, as the pulled muscles in my back usually take that long to rehabilitate.

It hurts like hell…on the plus side, I know exactly how one of the characters is going to be suffering in the end of the combat.

I spent the afternoon climbing the rock piles scattered around my parents fields.

Nothing brings back memories like walking over the places where as a child you had many adventures, and still seeing the same rocks there, welcoming as ever, if you can keep your balance on the shifting smaller stones. If you can, then perching atop the ancient boulders is your well earned reward, viewing the sea of grass around you, I easily remembered what it was like as a child with this entire view surrounding me and allowing me to become whatever I dreamed.

They were like old friends, these rocks. The same ones I sat on, still large boulders, as if my age and size growing meant nothing to them, they still welcomed me to sit on them. Some people fear stone because of its unchanging quality, I welcome it. And the stone welcomed me back, allowing me to take off my shirt and sandals and warm/cool my feet on their surfaces as they made ready for me to sit thronelike in the center of the pile.

These piles were old when I was young, I would guess about 50 years then, and nothing has changed in the ensuing 20 years, except the rocks are even more welcoming, having a soft layer of lichen covering all of them, comfortable for walking barefoot and to recline on, if you could find a relatively flat spot.

Nowadays, I imagine social services would take any parent away that allowed their children to play on such piles, but those piles are where I learned my sense of balance, and practiced my sense of imagination. I would gladly let any children of mine play on these piles. And when I have kids, they will.