Shadowboxing Under the Streetlights
on getting your spark back.
Arguably the greatest perk of being a guy is the ability to take night walks by yourself.
They pair best with phone calls and callbacks, and if it’s the fairer sex on the other end of the line, it’s the same refrain:
“Where are you rn?”
walking.
“Like by yourself?”
yeah.
“Ugh it’s so cool you can just do that”
Night walks have been a staple of mine since I moved out onto my own, a luxury I don’t take for granted.
I’ve never had an issue, save for when I’d be in a hoodie on an especially late spiral-fueled journey and Nassau County’s Finest would pull up and ask “My man, where we off to? Everything ok?"
The quiet Florida neighborhood I now call home doesn’t even have a patrol.
It’s me and (allegedly) some alligators, but I haven’t seen one yet.
A few nights ago I was walking and on a long phone call, chatting about life.
I came up upon an especially bright streetlight, the trademark pounding LED brightness we’ve come to know, a far cry from the warm glow of the orange ones we grew up with.
This light cast a massive screen onto the pavement, and I noticed my shadow was unusually prominent.
I kept my phone call going, standing in the middle of the street. AirPods stayed in, talking as usual.
Slowly but surely, some combos started to flow.
A jab, then another jab.
Now a jab cross, classic 1-2.
First two combos came out so slowly that even Greta Thunberg could’ve been sitting in the pocket in front of me and starched me with a cross down the middle.
(Idk why she’s the one that came to mind)
Next set was better. That trademark snap at the end was back. People who have trained know what I’m talking about.
Jab, cross, left body hook.
Now the pitter patter of the feet.
Jab, cross, cut the angle, hook, weave, back to center.
Stance switch to southpaw.
We’re starting to float a little, the feet are lighter.
Then it hit me- I hadn’t done this in ages.
This was a good sign.
Shadowboxing used to be a daily staple- in the bathroom mirror, in the faces of friends and girlfriends, waiting on line at the supermarket (kinda weird that one, ik).
Lately though, like many of us, I’ve been playing in the dirt.
Trench warfare.
Sometimes we don’t realize how far gone we are until we start to feel like ourselves again.
The Spark Goes Out Quietly
It’s not an explosion or some sort of breakdown.
Usually losing our spark is more of a slow, dull fade we’re barely cognizant of.
Our posture changes, we stop moving with lightness.
We attribute it to “getting older” and “real life”, hoping that shrouding our collective lack of gusto in an air of maturity offers respite from the responsibility of losing what makes us, us.
It doesn’t.
Where does it come from?
Maybe (probably) it’s largely thanks to the phones.
We’re inundated with notifications, texts, tweets, calls all day long. We’re on call like social EMT’s.
Perhaps it’s the over-indulgence in current events, and I get it: the world is trickier than ever before, there’s far more “happenings”.
However, far too many of us are guilty of going too far with the whole monitoring the situation thing. There’s a such thing as grey area.
Not having a clue what’s going on out there is no good, but there’s also no pride in being so informed it’s like you’re expecting Pete Hegseth to call you and ask what the next move is in the Middle East.
The causes are legion, but there is a distinct difference between causes and excuses.
Finding It Again
Now I’m not saying you have to go out there and start throwing combos in the middle of the road.
That kind of thing could’ve gotten me on Live PD or something like that.
“We’ve got a call about a white male, early 30’s, seems like he’s throwing punches in the street and talking to himself…we’re gonna go there have a conversation with him see what’s going on…”
Hopefully whatever lights you back up is way cooler than getting into a phantom fight with the humid Florida air.
Perhaps it’s breaking into a little dance to the tune of whatever is playing while you wait in line at Starbucks.
Maybe it’s a doodle on the corner of the page while you take notes on a Zoom call, reminding you of your artistic flair.
It could be gardening, poetry, plane finding, yoga, birdwatching, golfing…whatever it is.
The only thing is… you can’t force it.
It’s found in movement, in taking shots into the universe.
It’s found living in alignment, not in people-pleasing or taking on responsibilities you don’t have to.
I don’t think it’s much of a surprise I got mine back the same day I was strolling around downtown at work, striking up conversations with strangers and then getting back to the office and telling a long time pain in the ass client to kick rocks.
Had this particular Wednesday been one of my “WFH and hide away from the world and justify your BS to yourself” kind of days, I don’t think we would’ve been burning calories under the LED lights later on.
As always, it’s easier said than done.
It’s nothingness, and then all of a sudden, the rush comes back all at once.
A truly great feeling.
Sometimes you’re so far gone that you need someone else to point it out before you can make the shift necessary to get your inner spark back.
If that’s where you’re at, it’s my hope that this article could be that for you.
😉
Love always,
John Abbate
20.6.2025
was meant to read this today! message totally hit home (as always)