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Tiger Lily

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

The Tyger.  William Blake

I love a good fight.

It's because I'm a mammal. I am designed to stay alive. I am also designed to find food. If I have any spare time, I also like to defend my young and my turf. Therefore, I have fighting in my DNA.

The violence part, I’m not so keen on.  But the focus, the engagement in the moment, the blood running through one’s veins...there’s nothing like it.  If only someone would invent some kind of fight that was about making love, not war....

Oh thank God. There's tango. Everything about how we move is a challenge. All we have to do is stop thinking, “now I am dancing tango, now I am walking forward, now I am walking backward, now I am doing an ocho,” and instead, let that prowly, lowering tiger within all of us raise its eyebrow. “Nrrrr?”

If we get bad body mechanics out of its way, the tiger does all the work for us and it feels like someone else is moving, not us. I feel my whole bearing change when the tiger takes over, I feel the expression on my face change. I have no idea what it looks like but inside the general impression is, “God, I hope my mother never sees this look on my face.” It feels blank, thoughtless, and totally absorbed with tracking my prey.