The Control Enthusiast

Last night

(Him, ringing up 100′ of untreated 8mm hemp rope. Me, bank card in hand, waiting to pay.)

H: “So, can I ask…”

M: “Yeah?”

H: “What are you going to use all of this hemp for, anyway?”

M: “Bondage.”

H: “Sorry?”

M: “Bondage.”

H: “Huh. Well, you’re not the first.”

(And why was I not surprised when he said that?)

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less control/more control

I’ve been thinking recently about the parts of myself that need more control and the parts that need less.

The more control came out last night, in class. I’ve started taking krav maga classes here in Toronto. We were doing an exercise. Standing in the middle of a circle of seven other men, with my eyes closed, fighting stance and hands up, waiting for each of them, in turn or at the same time, to try and choke me. The choke would come and I’d have to break it, attack & disable the person who was attacking me (not really, of course) before moving on to the next person. It didn’t even take three chokes before my adrenaline was firing and I could feel my vision start to tunnel. I’d feel the hands, pluck break barrier, throw some knees and push the attacker away as I was twisting to pluck and break the next set of hands and the next set, my breath was coming fast. Fast. For a second I thought I was growling, or maybe laughing.

But I couldn’t go all out. As all out as I really needed to go. I wasn’t exploding. I was constantly restraining myself, which meant my defenses were more about pushing the attacker away or getting distance rather than moving through the flurry of strikes that krav teaches you to throw when you trap your opponent. Put them down, keep them down. I’m so aware, maybe even too aware of not bruising, hurting or breaking any of these people who are attacking me. My form, the cleanliness of the attacks is suffering for it. I need to get more of a handle on that if I’m going to progress.

It feeds me, though. Even with the self-restraint. I was gasping for breath and still in a fighting stance when the instructor yelled time and so exhilarated. I could almost say exultant.

The less control, well, that’s about drinking. I’m 34 and have never had a drink of alcohol in my life. For whatever reason – and there are many – I’ve always avoided it. Not the easiest thing growing up. It’s remarkable how much alcohol consumption has inextricably linked itself to our socialization. Rather socially separating when you’re a teenager and not engaging in experimentation with the rest of your peers. Recently, though, it’s been on my mind. Wine, specifically. Drinking wine with food. My taste for certain things (coffee, chocolate, sex, fabric) is pretty specific and somewhat indulgent. The idea of a glass of wine with dinner is becoming more and more interesting, even attractive. How it changes the taste of meat, cheese, water even. It’s a discussion that I’ve had with myself before, and has always faded. For some reason, now, it’s not fading.

There are people in my life I’d like to be able to sit and share a glass of wine with. This is a new thing. This is not a self-defining thing. I wonder what effect relaxing this control will have over the rest of me. The excess energy will be directed elsewhere? Or perhaps I’ll just lush the fuck out?

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129

The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoy’d no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallow’d bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

- William Shakespeare, Sonnet 129

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