It has been two days since I bought the book.
The book quite literally has a clearly spelled out plan for everything,
Almost.
When breaking down a door the book instructs me to place one or two sharp kicks to the lock area.
Lift dominant foot to a forty-five degree angle, tuck knee until a three sided square of foot, thigh and body is formed.
Inhale.
Snap foot into extension.
Exhale.
Repeat until the obstacle yields.
Problem solved, Almost.
When the door swings open their is no chapter on how to tell your mother everything will be all right. There is no chapter on how to grow up before your time, heal a twenty-five year scar, and apologize for a kicked-down door. There is no chapter on how to put out the fire behind your eyes when the alimony checks bounce and you still miss him. There's no chapter on how to make a bad guy out of either of them.
There is, oddly enough, a chapter on sword-fighting which will go unused.
Save for the eventual mining of its pages for deeper meaning: strike always from the center, forever moving forward to cancel the blow's power. There is truth enough there.
The chapters on defense from shark and snake attacks serve only as defense from metaphorical false friends and poorly picked relationships (Immobilize the effected areas, always keep wounds lower than the heart, stay close to shores and never travel alone.).
The chapter on escaping bears and fathers merely offers the truth every blue bruise has already shouted at us: lie still, stay quiet, if confronted aim for the nose...and eyes.
There is still no chapter to help me defend myself from you, baby. I have read the book from front to back. I can now treat broken limbs, jump from moving cars, take a punch, and cut umbilical cords with my teeth...correctly. I can heal any wound with a belt, treebark, and my new book.
There is never a mention of how to take a hug from you.
There is no chapter on how to properly treat a broken heart.
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