I suggested last time that I should focus for a while on the beautiful, given the particular difficulties in my life right now. Blogging (or journalling for that matter) on the “good things in life,” as a reminder if nothing else, is not a particluarly novel approach, but it is sometimes necessary.
So, today’s brief post is on wrestling.
Strictly speaking, I don’t find High School Wrestling pleasing in any aesthetic sense. I often have a hard time watching, worried as I tend to be about things like broken necks and various injuries to appendages. I am pleased, though, by what TG (Tough Guy, my athletically-inclined son) finds in wrestling: camraderie, physical activity, among other goodness. He smiles when he is thoroughly worn out by practice. He’s attentive and happy even when working the stats table. The joy these kids find in competition, stregth, and repetiton baffles me at times, but thier swagger over the whole affair is pretty compelling.
Since TG stared HS last year, I’ve spent waaay more time at HS athletic events than I ever did in high school, where I was a proud theatre geek, and where we had far less adult supervision at any given moment. I wonder if that still holds true for HS theatre….
Eh, no matter. For the moment, my world is good, safe, and protected in this gym, not unlike the natal-like safety theatre once provided for me. Gym as sanctuary…
That’s rather groovy.