Zen Tennis

Source file: Zen_Tennis.docx.txt
Domain: mental-game / eastern-philosophy
Tier: reports/tier-2-topic-depth-gaps
Used in artifact: artifacts/reports/tier-2-topic-depth-gaps.md
Abstract

Zen approach to tennis — beginner's mind; attachment to outcome as the source of choking.
Key points

Beginner's mind — let go of preconceptions about how the shot 'should' look.
Attachment to outcome causes choking.
Awareness of each moment, not the score.
Pre-point breath reset.
Practice as meditation.
Raw dump (first ~1000 words)

-4699039370Zen Tennis By Paul Mutimer Zen tennis develops a philosophy behind the sport, a philosophy that takes into account the physical, mental and emotional aspects of the game. in doing so, it draws on japanese zen, chinese martial arts, indian meditation and western psychology. The exercises in the book are a mixture of on-court and off-court processes designed to increase self-awareness and improve your tennis. in keeping with the zen tradition of story-telling, zen tennis includes fables which highlight and reinforce certain veiwpoints. these are valuable methods of teaching because, instead of spelling out messages, they invite the reader to think about the issues themselves. By taking this total approach, we can gain full value from the time we allot to our game, regardless of our standard. however, the most important benefit to be drawn from this is the development of a set of attitudes and qualities that we can take into all areas of our lives. In this way sport should not be seen as something separate from work and relationships, but as a reflection of and mechanism for developing them. in this way our sport remains alive, creative and spontaneous. FOREWORD During my pro tennis career there have been many occasions where I suddenly began to play incredibly well. I would feel an absolute “oneness” with the ball, my racket and my opponent’s movement around the court. During the final of the 1974 US Open against Billie Jean King, I played the entire match in that wondrous state which players would describe as being in the “zone”. The record books show that I lost 7-5 in the final set but my memories to this day of that final have nothing to do with the result - indeed I wrote later:“Quite simply, our tennis had transcended the scoreboard. Our rallies seemed endless and yet, after another exchange of impossible returns, I felt goose bumps rise on my flesh as the crowd roared its approval.” I felt like I was floating in cruise control, as if other energies had taken over. Reflexes were at work but my body had given itself over to a perfect oneness of mind, body and spirit. I was dancing to an inner rhythm with everything. To have this feeling for an entire match was rare. I believe it only happened two other times in my career and you’ll be pleased to know I won both of those! However, over time it would happen for periods during a match usually when I was behind and had decided to “go for it”. Nothing could intrude on me at those moments. Hitting the ball would be effortless and I would be super-aware of the racket strings brushing against the ball to the point that I was the strings and the ball. Sounds wonderful, does it not, and believe me to achieve that state within the high pressure confines of championship tennis was particularly satisfying. As you go on to read Paul’s book you will realise that it is just as enjoyable a state to attain in everyday life. Thanks in large part to my Aboriginal heritage, and certainly due to what I have learned from the teachings of my Aboriginal elders, this very natural experience of contentment of self continues today in my life and is no less a pleasurable, if annoyingly intermittent, occurrence. It is quite definitely something to strive for and as you read Zen Tennis you may recognise that you have had this wonderful experience yourself. If not, you may learn how to let it happen. Evonne Goolagong Cawley -40640165100 INTRODUCTION THE DISCOVERY OF ZEN TENNIS “I don’t care if I die, I’m going to win this point!” In any tight tennis match this thought would enter my head, spurring me on to greater heights. I might not have had the most ability but my bloody-mindedness would never be in question. Any mistake or loss of point would sharpen my resolve. It came as a surprise when as an invincible fifteen-year-old I started spending time in bed with a crook back. At that time I had no concept of any link between my physical condition and my attitudes. It was easier to live with the naive belief that it was just a physical problem that would disappear in time. This was not the case. By seventeen I was visiting orthopaedic specialists, physiotherapists and masseurs. I felt a little lost and overwhelmed in this medical world. I hadn’t known that there were so many different choices of treatment. I shunted myself around between the various groups but no-one had a magic wand. The general consensus was that the muscles in my lower back were tightening up and putting strain down my legs. I was prescribed a series of exercises and some muscle relaxants. Needless to say this didn’t work quickly enough for me and my commitment started to waver. Confronted with an uncertain diagnosis and the constant frustration of not being able to practice, I faced what I thought at the time was my only choice: to play and suffer or not play at all. Seeing things in such a black-and-white manner led me to stop playing tennis and look for the cause of or a cure for my condition. Having tried many conventional methods of physical treatment I decided it was now time to see if I could benefit by exploring the powers and effects of the mind. Maybe it was synchronicity that at this moment a few friends had just learnt to meditate. Their excitement and enthusiasm was contagious. I had to meditate. Their excitement and enthusiasm was contagious. I had to learn. “When’s the next meeting?” The following night I found myself listening to a Transcendental Meditation teacher expounding the limitless virtues of meditation. I’m not sure that I really understood much of what she was saying, but a part of me felt as if I had found the answer to all my problems. In my idealistic zeal I thought it was only