You do need to close your eyes to smell better
The human body sends 11 million bits of information to the brain every second and the conscious mind only processes 50 bits per second.
Limitless. Combat is a beautiful thing, especially when done by combatants with a similar level of skill. To see a man, fight for what he wants, the beauty of struggle. To see the strongest of men stripped of ego and confidence all to wonder if they are enough. Scared, vulnerable, human. To see doubt seep into a man’s mind as his opponent breaks his will, the euphoria of dominating. This is what I find myself searching for every time I step into that enclosure, this primal feeling that excites me beyond any other. The feeling of dominance.
On a Tuesday evening, I step into the ring to escape the tedium of everyday life. Standing in front of me is a foe, outside this enclosure what we are doesn’t matter but for the two minutes we dance allyship, friendship or any other form of camaraderie is taboo. The bell rings and we perform on our chosen stage, weaving, bobbing, and tensing under punches thrown. The first thirty seconds are the equivalent of a chess match, spent testing skill, speed, strength, and IQ. The remainder of the round is decided on by what was learned initially. About a third of the way into the round, a punch square on the face sends waves through my brain. Both literally and metaphorically. As my brain feels a slight nudge, doubt also simultaneously seeps into my mind and I know he sees it. I know he sees it because I would see it too. The beginning of fear.
I back into a corner to shield and his attack is doubled down, from the corner of my eyes I see the coach and everyone outside and they can tell I am struggling. Coach screams at me something along the lines of being a warrior, being limitless. Limitless. I want to believe it but I am tired and defeated, all I can do is survive. I try to keep him at bay with a series of lazy jabs and hooks and they seem to do the job, but I know he was the better man this evening. I know he broke my will. So, I get home defeated, broken, and angry thinking about limitlessness.
Fourteen. At the peak of a juggler’s skill, under excellent environmental conditions, the maximum amount of balls he can juggle is fourteen. The human body is physically incapable of doing anymore. In essence, there is a finite amount of balls one is able to juggle. I sit down at the front of my screen with two concepts. Limitlessness and finitude and I try to strike a balance between the two of them. Some middle ground where both concepts meet for a truce and have the sort of agreement that two opposites should have but I can’t seem to find a middle ground as they are both too stubborn, too opposite. It's either one or the other and for us, human finitude is that ground.
The realisation paints a picture as I compare human existence to that of the universe. The fact that we are in one of the millions of galaxies, or maybe the fact that the timelines of our existence in comparison to the universe are insignificant and meaningless. Every war, emotion, competition on the large scale of existence equates to meaninglessness. The untrained onlooker looks at the picture and sees despair. Perception is both wonderful and individual. Like the freedom I find in my enclosed ring so does the finitude of my existence enrich existence itself. The agitation placed on our lives by our finitude is what gives life its intensity. The realisation that every moment I live is another moment gone. The realisation that there are a thousand possible scenarios in which I could die is all the inspiration I need to chase my goals aggressively. the realisation that time spent on one task is time not spent on another. Life, the game of opportunity cost. Why dawdle and think about limitlessness when we’re blessed with so much because of finitude? We’re blessed because someday it all comes to an end. The embrace of my finitude, my relatively inconsequential and insignificant existence itself makes my existence so freeing, so enjoyable. Makes the feel of every emotion that much more intense.
I don’t need to feel 11 million bits of information a second as I am perfectly okay with 50. Perfectly okay with having to close my eyes to smell better.
