As a child, I didn’t enjoy watching sports on television. I could not find a single aspect that fascinated me on the screen.
Starring at racing cars, skiers sliding downhill, or riders jumping over 1,60m with a horse on an electronic surface did not appeal to me. These cinematographic images appeared to be so dull, so empty. I couldn’t feel any bodily excitement.
Unimpressed, I accepted that watching sports – even horse-riding, what I’ve been doing since I am eight years old – on a screen doesn’t correlate to my interest in sports.
I’ve never cared about who wins; instead I wanted to understand the movements, and how to conduct them almost effort and powerless.
When I’m feeling and moving my torso and my four limbs consciously, I’m connecting the rationally working left side of my brain function to its right half and consequently turn myself into a free floating momentum. The objective of this is to approximate my physical feeling and the workings of my mind to each other:
Whilst the rational side of my brain orders my body to conduct a set of movements in a structured manner, I’m always reminding myself of staying conscious about how much muscular tension and breath I require – or need to get rid of – to remain in this embodied state.
Ultimately, I can breathe into my supple and elastic body.
But sitting, or standing in front of a screen, or even watching others doing the movements my body knows inside out, does not put myself into the same lively state charged with positive tension.
Of course, these passive activities can stimulate a similar feeling inside in my body and mind, but not more.
Once you have understood and experienced your animated self in the stillest moment of peacefulness, the moving pictures on an HD screen can do nothing for you anymore.