The macaco is how I learnt that

everything in life is achievable in steps. Let me explain. Lets go back a year and a half to an early ‘winter’ evening. The end of a class. The grass is damp beneath our bare feet as we stand, listening to our teacher’s conclusion of it, asking our questions before we returned home for the night and dreamt capoeira dreams. The macaco was what we learnt that evening, and I was captivated by the fluidity of the movement and its gracefulness; a back handspring that rolled like a carriage wheel. I wanted to learn it. I really wanted to learn it. ‘How do we do it?’ I asked, attempting again, straining to bend my back and be completely upside down, struggling to kick my feet up over while maintaining control, falling over.
That is when we were taught about steps. Steps, he said, is what gets you to the top of the stairs. To the end of the road.
‘It is not One giant step’ he warned, wearily.
‘it is one step, followed by the next, and the next, and the next.’
He crouched into the macaco’s starting position. Squattting, left palm on the ground, right protecting his face.
‘When you first this move,’ he said. ‘You might start like this.’
he looked over his left shoulder, shifting his weight to his left hand and, using the momentum of his position he ‘jumped’ lifting both feet in a ‘hop’ to where he looked behind him. He was never upside down. He just hopped sideways. It was unimpressive. I was getting bored.
I copied it easily.
‘Don’t do anything now’ he said, ‘listen’.
‘You start like that, and then that becomes this.’ he hops a little higher, a little more upside down
and then this. and then this. and so on

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