In the clearing stands a boxer, a fighter by his trade. And he carries the reminders of every glove that’s layed him down or cut him till he cried out, in his anger and his shame “I am leaving, I am leaving” but the fighter still remains, yes he still remains…
Last week I talked about the spiritual and emotional power that music has. In my humble opinion, Simon and Garfunkle’s Concert in Central Park album is among the top contenders for touching that part of us that seeks connection, and meaning, and serenity in the universe. The quote above is from their song “The Boxer,” and I will always carry the reminder of when they played the song just a few days after the 9/11 tragedies on one of the late night talk shows while the camera moved from face to face of firefighters who had been invited to the show. It was the only song they played that night, and it was all that was needed – the connection was there.
Recently I heard this quote read again at a memorial service for an Uncle I had who passed away at 88 years old. He had a long, productive life, and he spent a portion of it teaching young men how to box in our small town. Apparently he had boxed while in the Navy, and he took a liking to it. I was one of the boys he attempted to train, but my boxing career did not last too long. I was what they call in the boxing world “chicken”. This condition was not completely without just cause, however because at that time I was quite overweight, and for that reason I was matched with other young men of the same weight class whose size had more to do with muscle mass than the amount of pop tarts and donuts they were consuming. For this reason, I spent most of my time in the ring trying to duck, cover, and keep my nose from getting broken.
Despite that experience, I have always been attracted to the sport of boxing. To this day, I have a heavy bag, a speed bag, and a jump rope at my house, and they are among my favorite forms of exercise. I also enjoy watching boxing, and Muhammad Ali is among my list of real heroes – not just in his boxing career, but in his life story as a whole. He continues to personify the fighting spirit. I had not thought about the impact of the lessons I have learned from fighters like Ali and my Uncle until I heard the reference to Simon and Garfunkle’s song at his Memorial Service. I think many of these lessons could come from a variety of sports, or other sources, but for me they trace back to boxing.
The training and regular work outs that a boxer goes through can be grueling. It is a sport that requires both strong aerobic stamina and brawn. If you have doubts, try this simple experiment: pick up a jump rope and try to go without stopping for 10 minutes. No? O.K. just try 5 minutes. Too hard? Try 2 minutes. Now go and sit down until your heart doesn’t feel like it will soon explode out of your chest. When you are ready, begin the 150 push ups for today. And we haven’t even gotten to the punching part of the sport. Or the being punched. My point is that the work outs are, To say the least, “uncomfortable”. And that is the first lesson I learned from boxing. Uncomfortability sometimes is worth it in the long run. As Machiavelli would say “the end justifies the means.” This philosophy often seems to be discouraged today. In fact, it has become as outdated as the typewriter and the record player in our easier, faster, and more comfortable society. Overall, things are easier today, so why should we emphasize being uncomfortable? Why not take the path of least resistance?
These are valid questions, and I am a big proponent of working smart and using the tools and resources available for any job or endeavor. But I believe that the issue of fighting through uncomfortable situations is different. I meet many people in my work as an addictions counselor, the majority of whom are younger, that seemed surprised, shocked, and extremely resistant when I suggest that staying completely “sober” i.e. abstinent from all mood altering chemicals and addictive behaviors – will most likely be uncomfortable and difficult for them. But that they should do it anyway. I wish I could insert the look on many of their faces here. Imagine complete incomprehension. Imagine trying to explain the endocrine system of your cat Fluffy to a pre-schooler. It’s like that. Complete disbelief and dumbfoundedness “if that is a word”. Remember that I said not all of the people I meet with have this reaction, but the amount that do has been quite shocking. And the obvious question that they often ask is “Well, if it is uncomfortable, why should I do it?” This attitude is the one that I am differentiating from working smart and using the available tools. It is an attitude that seems unable to identify and realize that situations which are unpleasant, hard, and often painful will happen in this life. Not only that, but good things can come from working through these situations – from putting off immediate gratification for something that may not yet be tangible – from having hope that working hard through the pain will serve a higher purpose. From digging in, and digging down and fighting through. Fighters know how to do these things, and they embrace uncomfortability.
Another lesson I learned from boxing is to keep getting up when someone or something knocks you down. Sometimes it is all I can do. In “Recovery Speak” I have heard this referred to as “suiting up and showing up.” Many times life is monotonous, boring, and routine. Get up anyway. Show up. Don’t give in to negativity and pessimism. Chose to be grateful. Stand up. Relationships, responsibility, and doing the right thing are all extremely difficult at times. Running away from these things and other trials and problems of life can be very tempting at times “all addictions attest to this,” but in the end you can’t run away from yourself. A true sign of maturity and good character is getting up, showing up and doing what needs to be done. It means facing things head on – each minute, each hour, each day. And by facing these things, strength is gained. So is wisdom, and humility, and acceptance. Fighters get up. They know that they will get knocked down sometimes. They know that sometimes the training is long, and hard, and monotonous. They know that the fights will come, and they will go. All is temporary. This round will end. This fight will end. But the fighter will still remain.
The final lesson I have learned from boxing “at least the final one I will relate here in order to keep my promise of brevity,” is to remember that there are always options. One of my favorite movies about boxing is “When We Were Kings” the documentary about Mohammed Ali’s famous fight against George Foreman. I won’t give too much away here, but I will say that Ali went into that fight doing the exact opposite of what was expected of him. He intentionally fought in a completely different style than he had promised to, or that he had ever fought before. He explored and utilized his options. Fighters know the value of assessing a situation and choosing the right punch, or step, or style with which to proceed. And they also know how to make these choices quickly, and to adjust if things are not working out. Fighters need to train, and plan, and strike. But their greatest skills often come in the ability to “roll with the punches” and to be extremely flexible and unpredictable depending on the situation. To be open to change, and to learn new tricks if the situation requires it. Are you predictable? Do people seem to “push your buttons” regularly? If so, you might need to get back to the gym and learn some new tricks. I have long believed that one person can change a relationship, and most of the time this change comes when that person decides to look at things differently and change something about themselves. They learn how to communicate more effectively. Or they take responsibility for their actions. Or they begin to open themselves up to other opinions and new ways of thinking and living. Growth is never meant to stop. The best fighters, the ones whose careers and reputations live on, are those who never stopped learning.
This week I challenge you to get in the ring and fight. What is the issue, or problem, or change that has been taunting you? What is the uncomfortable situation that you need to face? Is it going away by itself? Consider your options. Think about the things you have already done, and if they have not worked, if you keep getting knocked down by the same thoughts, behaviors, or attitudes, then stop doing them. Try something new. Get up. Be unpredictable. Be dangerous. Realize that despite the anger and the shame you may feel in your struggles, your fighter still remains. Ring the bell, start the round, and fight!
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