Wednesday, February 23, 2011
My body is a machine. My mind is a ghost. Or they're all just made out of the same stuff. The mind-body problem is not my battle, not this time around, but it's tangentially related. That there is one of those nice little phrases that the internet has already turned into a cliche. I couldn't help but wear it out a little more. I watched The Fighter today. What a movie. It resonated with me for a few reasons. Many of which I will not share. Who reads blog posts for what they don't say? I am conjuring up Derrida's ghost, I know. Incomprehensibility is an art form. Enough with the ghost talk, let's discuss something more visceral, like fighting. How do I master my body? By mastering my mind. Each, regardless of their physical properties, is it's own unique animal, requiring sometimes delicate and other times brutal methodologies to extract their highest capabilities. The body needs fuel, so does the mind. I look at what I eat and I'm disgusted less and less. That front is being seen to by the finest troops that I can muster. My mind however does not receive enough of the type of inspirational input that I need to offset my natural melancholic equilibrium. I need motivation daily. I look at the masters, many were tenacious in demeanor and drive, few were moved by more noble intentions. Either way they found a way to keep going, to turn the screws, to keep fighting. I need reasons. I need a why, so that I can endure any how. The Fighter was inspirational to me. I need more of this.