Hope
I sit and flex my fingers, stretch my neck, and stare at my computer screen. It's been a long, long time. The writing bug abandoned me for a few years except for a few nudges here and there. Distraction after distraction have kept me away, as the opponent is powerfully clever. Life has its hard knock, bumps, gut-punches, but I still stand. Not a testimony to my own strength, because I really wouldn't be standing if I relied on that. When you are derailed, traumatized, beat-up and kicked while you're down, it's tough. It weakens you, tires you, sucks the life right out of you. You become a shell, void of hope. I remember a previous blog post where I wrote about boxer Muhammad Ali and his plan to "rope-a-dope". A brilliant move, actually, used to wear the enemy down. He leaned against the ropes of the boxing ring, protecting his face, yet taking the punches. Over and over, he took the hits, but only until his opponent became weary and weakened. Then Ali was able...
