Foster and the rest of the students are
sitting in rows on the floor of the Intro to Energy classroom. Each of them
attempting to mimic the pose and breathing patterns of their teacher Cynthia
sitting on the floor facing them at the front of the room. Foster is the only
one with his eyes open, awkwardly looking around the room at all the serenity
he is clearly not feeling. He looks up at his teacher, her eyes also closed,
she takes a deep breath in, and slowly exhales.
“Ok everyone.” She alerted the room with
her eyes still closed. Foster shut his tight quickly so as not to stand out
when she opened hers. “That’s enough for today. You can open your eyes and
relax now.”
The class including Foster opened their eyes and relaxed their
sitting positions. “For class Wednesday I would like you all to work on your
breathing. Three seconds in, and three seconds out. The point is learning to
control your natural instincts, the fun flashy stuff come
later. Are there any questions?” She asked stretching out her legs. The class
remained quiet. “All right then, good first day, I’ll see you all on Wednesday.”
The students move quickly to gather their things
up and leave the room. Cynthia is in no such hurry. Foster stretches his legs
out folds himself in half. Cynthia looks over, then decides to get up and sit
in front of him. Foster sits back upright and sees Cynthia sitting in front of
him. “Sorry, I’ll get out of here.”
Cynthia shakes her head. “No you’re fine,
it’s not like you were doing much in the way of meditation during class, a
little extra practice will be good for you.” She moved her legs back into sitting
cross legged.
Foster copied her awkwardly. “I didn’t
really think the basics of fighting were going to be sitting in silence and
breathing, no offense.” He verbally stumbled over his thoughts.
Cynthia smiled a little. “None taken. Sitting
in silence and breathing is hard for many people because they have spent their
entire lives controlling things through physical force.” She closed her eyes
and this time Foster copied her. Letting his visual awareness of the room and
of Cynthia transfer to his ears and his nose. “Hitting, kicking, screaming,
yelling, taking up space and making sure people know it.” She continued at a
measured and calm pacing, almost hypnotically. “Self-control and self-awareness
are forms of mental control, two forms of control that many people and many
Combat Studies majors have a very hard time learning to wield.”
Foster was finally starting to relax, his
breathing was still an uneven ragged mess but he felt less awkward just sitting
with his eyes actually closed. “You make it sound like brute force is inherently
weaker than mental prowess.” He stated.
“Not weaker, just enslaved. All biological
life is enslaved to their own mind.” She opened and eye and looked at Foster
who legitimately still had his eyes closed and was trying intensely to count
three second breathing windows silently to himself. She closed her eye. “For
what is brute strength but the will of the mind made manifest by your body.”
Foster lost his count. “So, like, I am my
own worst enemy.”
Cynthia smiled. “But with proper training you
have to potential to be your strongest and most loyal ally.” She opened her
eyes, so did Foster. She got up and walked over to her bag.
Foster put his left shoe on. “Oh! Um, so,
do you know Dean Thompson?” He asked with all the awkwardness back in his voice.
Cynthia zipped up her bag. “Used to.” She
offered. “He, stopped talking to me a while ago.”
Foster contemplates this as
he shoved his right foot into his sneaker. Then stands up and grabs his bag. “Hey,
um, I really appreciate the extra help and everything.” They stopped at the
door. “But if you don’t mind me asking why he would tell me to say hi to you
for him if he has been ignoring you?” The question rushed awkwardly out of his
mouth.
“If you need to know so badly, ask him. I
haven’t gotten anything useful from his answering machine.” She said bitterly.
“Sorry, it’s really none of my business.”
He apologized.
She shook her head. “He’s the dick for
using you as a messenger. You can’t exactly mind your own business when someone
is actively shoving your face in theirs”
Foster shrugged his shoulders as he
Followed Cynthia out of the room and shut of the lights before the door closed.
