For Sale_ This Old House

Sensei Canna offers insight into the real world of self defense!

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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sat Jan 30, 2016 2:34 pm

We move through much of our lives, especially as we get older, incredibly quickly. Hours bleed into days bleed into weeks bleed into seasons, and suddenly summer is over and we wonder where the time went. As children, time feels much slower because everything we experience is new. Our brains are constantly working to absorb and categorize new information. As adults, there is less and less new information, and with less new information to take in, the brain doesn't have to work as hard. Time flies by.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sun Feb 14, 2016 5:02 pm

Happy Valentine's day, my son.Image :cry: I'll never forget you.

http://tinyurl.com/hnemhdb
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu Apr 07, 2016 4:04 pm

The sounds of the dojo...

And then, last night I had a dream_

It began with my dreaming that I was asleep and full of contentment at our ‘Outpost’ dojo, in the comfortable sofa bed _back in one corner…comfort also comes from the climate control we have plus shower facilities.

And it came to me how much I had loved my own personal dojos over the years, how I had loved at times to be there all alone, reflecting upon the happiness of a good throng of students so visible in their camaraderie and activities…the parties…

I would look up to the photos of Kanbun and Kanei senseis, hanging on the wall, and they always seemed to have a secret smile behind their lips.

As beautiful as my main dojo was then, with 100 plus students, I would feel that because of my love for the dojo, I could live there forever _ all alone _ even if it were an isolated building full of drafts and memories_ tenaciously attached to my whims and personal rituals.

But as the dream unfolded it seemed as though I had passed through a mysterious time portal connecting the dojo with my old childhood house , with the steps of my mind guiding me gently back to those years of youth where _because of my great love for the ‘old family house’ I was convinced that I could live well in isolation forever young in the intern of those walls as they aged and cried in abandonment.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu Apr 07, 2016 4:07 pm

Yes,
I was asleep and dreaming in this old house where I was born and grew_ or better said_ where it grew with me as a discreet nurse, an affectionate mother in the sometimes trying years of my life.

Of this old house I knew every nook and cranny, every imperceptible crack in the construction _anywhere …every little crunch…every rustle…[they are in every old house…] which I could always give a precise location.

Thus, the first manifestation of a low key noise unkown to me did not pass unnoticed.

In the dream I had remained frozen, listening to the rapid raising of my heart beats, all my attention turned to identify the source of that sound and to perceive an eventual repeat of it.

I didn’t have to wait long.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu Apr 07, 2016 4:10 pm

Here it is again, originally indistinct, like a distant crawl, then clearer, a thud and a sinister stridor, as metal against metal followed by other brief padded mutations, as coming from a location distant and remote…and then silence.

In acute stupor, I was still listening in the hope of a new signal, all at once hoping and praying that the noises would not repeat.

My first thought was about perhaps someone outside my house walls, maybe in the adjacent garden, but the source of the noise was unequivocally at the interior of the house, more precisely corresponding to my bedroom location…there was no pitiful lie I could recite to myself so as to calm me down.

My bedroom was adjacent to our old ‘radio room’ the room of a great number of parties I recalled so well, parties I could not attend as a little boy put to bed early in the evening, and fuming for hours before falling asleep.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Thu Apr 07, 2016 4:13 pm

So I got up from my bed and glued my ears to the bedroom wall, knowing that on the other side of it, in the radio room, the wall was a tapestry of a deep melancholy red color…

waiting and even arriving at believing I was peeping at beyond the wall with my thought, absurdly expecting of seeing something appear.

But there was nothing…I turned the handle of the door connecting my bedroom to the radio room, and with surprise, it opened slowly.

But… Nothing…inside that room only darkness and silence echoed…a vague smell of must, of which, after all, I had become used to, with the passing of time.

Those noises had really put a big dent in my emotional wellness, eating away at my tranquility.

The rest of the day passed without my having concluded much of anything, my attention irresistibly tensed by the mendacious silence of mind.

As the shadows of the night fell upon the house, and as I was almost convinced of being able to abandon my paranoia and of remaining calm falling asleep in blessed relief…the noise began anew, suddenly, mocking all my hopes
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Fri Apr 08, 2016 3:57 am

The floor was creaking repeatedly as if were being trampled on. This time I was certain, as I could be _in my growing anguished state in which I was debating, that I wasn’t alone in the house.

Now you need to understand that for someone in my condition, used to ignore mostly all for a superior tranquil state of mind, this possibility was simply unacceptable, even more so intolerable, was the realization of some threat originating in a place for me so familiar and habitual, that suddenly was betraying me …in the heart of my own house, transforming into a disturbing connection between me and the unknown.

I had to act rationally and define a plan of action…taking into account I knew nothing of a possible enemy’s capacities.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sat Apr 09, 2016 3:30 am

First I had to ensure that whatever thing was producing those noises, could not proceed in the narrow corridor passage to my bedroom. Only the idea of it was enough to bother me to no end.

I dedicated the entire next day to pad the corridor floor with improvised material. Certainly, going outside I could have found better items, but in that moment, not abandoning my position seemed to be a categorical imperative.

So I did the best I could utilizing wrapping paper from the kitchen closet, pressed together to form a compacted carpet able to warn me ahead of time against any possible bedroom intrusion, and at the end I was rather satisfied of the contraption by the time evening fell.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sat Apr 09, 2016 3:52 am

And as the darkness rolled in_ I came to realize of having finished just in time as whatever was now in motion at the other end of the corridor, had abandoned every diffidence …moving more freely and without concern of being heard.

This time, reflexively, I found myself reaching for my very powerful 'corridor rifle'
under the bed_ the rifle that as a child, when in my hands, would give me the courage to traverse our long corridor in the dark on curfewed nights.

Immobile, clutching that comforting weapon..._seating on my bed, and protected by the ephemeral improvised floor barrier, I heard a succession of thuds and also that strident, ripping_ scraping noise, that now was no longer even being mutated by the pressed paper on the floor.

I remained in a military watch of my 'safe space'_ until the sounds abated, passing the slow marching hours of the night awake and not moving in the dark, unable to leave my sentry position.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sat Apr 09, 2016 4:06 am

I must have dozed off, because when the noise returned, it caught me by surprise in panic as I could not tell, in shock, where I was and in what moment of night or day.

But quickly I became lucid, and when realizing what was happening, that new realization annulled every of my concocted defenses, throwing me into a terrified state.

The thought arose about the nature of nightmares: they gallop swiftly on silver wings…they are hunters that sniff out every trace of your subconscious, and when in the process of plunging the death blow, they bring you to the reality of the moment, leaving you in suspense, like a condemned person, blindfolded, who awaits with eyes wide shut, the moment of his execution.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sat Apr 09, 2016 4:25 am

Drenched in cold sweat I came to the realization that I had to move, that I had to become the predator, and so I 'fixed bayonets'_ and got up on shaky legs.

I began walking along those contorted walls of the mind, fighting my terror, while the rustling of my confused steps unsheathed sharp blades lacerating every shred of serenity.

My body severing space, cutting the air as in hunks of meat_feeling combative and intent to unveil that invisible presence, while thinking of God, I trudged on...
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sat Apr 09, 2016 4:30 am

And suddenly_ I SAW IT…a spectral figure cloaked in a white uniform and standing in a challenging position…still _without any movement…not a face, not arms, not legs, but a decided relentless enemy.Image
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sat Apr 09, 2016 4:44 am

When I resolved, audacious to insolence, of taking on this invader, I realized his visage beginning to take shape and at first glance, appearing to be young, but in an obscure and undefined way, with a look alternating between a sullen expression and flashes of absolute derangement.

I paused...placed my rifle down in between my feet...and moved closer so I could hear the figure's whispers
This story is about you. You are the character and everything that will happen here _ will happen to you in time.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Sun Apr 10, 2016 5:33 pm

How many terrible changes there have been in this house and in your life, when one thinks of it all!
The white clad figure continued in his whispers.
We, who were left behind when you went away, are still in mourning as we know you are now and forever you will be.

And as you left us to move on with your life...we remained behind as guardians of your thoughts and feeling. And our visitors were few, and those who came brought no addition of cheerfulness or happiness to this abandoned household.

They all wore sad faces and spoke low, as if they were afraid of waking someone; they never laughed, but sighed and often shed tears as they looked at the emptiness in the shadows of this once cheerful place of contentment.

We know that you can still sense the feeling of death clinging to your years... we know your air is still filled with the grief and horror of it.


Befuddled by all this...
I picked up my 'corridor rifle' walked back to my room and locked myself up in it...walking up and down alone for a long time, unable to do anything, unable to think, unable to understand my own feelings.
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Re: For Sale_ This Old House

Postby Van Canna » Mon Apr 11, 2016 8:52 pm

As I paced about in emotional distress, the thought kept assailing me that it was indeed true what has been written: That we leave something of us behind when we leave a place. We remain there even though we go away.

And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.

We travel to ourselves when we go back to a place, even in our dreams, where we have covered a stretch of our lives, no matter how brief it might have been.

And now, what was in this old house corridor waiting for me to find?

Had I been confronted by a feral enemy or a friend?
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