I sat on my haunches with my back against the white-painted brick wall of the gym, the bag in front of me still reeling from the lazy combinations I had given it.
I positioned myself between the bag and the guys playing around in the ring, wanting a little privacy to centre myself back in the present, the challenging present. It is the climate crisis, always the climate crisis.
Remembering now the romance in boxing films, all that stuff about underdogs coming out of nowhere, training at odd hours to surface blasting into the lime-light.
The mass movement we need to end the climate crisis is non-violent, but it sure does help (a conscious Americanism, a nod to those romantic films) my personal resilience and resolve, after I’ve unloaded my arsenal of frustration, grief and anger, to see that swinging bag.
Centre of the Web 