By Patsy Whitely
I’ve been at this game of tennis for a number of years, despite many hiatuses. A lot of those breaks were due to a variety of reasons, such as a knee injury, finances, time-management, childbirth, or simply my lack of motivation and enjoyment of the sport, and life.
It wasn’t until the other day while on the courts when it finally hit me: I was out there alone practicing my serves. I became really frustrated with myself and felt like retreating back to familiar thoughts of defeat. I threw down my racket, belted out a scream, and wiped the burning sweat from my forehead. I looked around to see if anyone noticed, and as the coast seemed clear, I began to cry. I asked myself why I continued with the torturous behavior. I reflected on age and the fact that I’m almost at the halfway mark... but really, I just needed to justify my continuance of the learning curve.
And then there was that other frustration - just tired of always feeling alone out here when the game actually encourages partnership. Truthfully, though, I knew that if I had a hitting partner to the level of becoming an actual opponent, it would probably frustrate me even more, so why bother?
My last and biggest issue was that I always seem to be starting over, and at the same point. It feels as if I’ve never graduated from a certain level of playing because of my "bad luck" or terrible timing.
After finishing my overly-critical self-analysis, I gathered my yellow balls and racquet, and came to the realization that I had a simple decision to make: Fight or flight. Stay and play or throw in the towel for good. If I stayed, it would mean continuing with the basics and at a fundamental level.
In that split second, I chose me. I chose tennis.
Suddenly, I felt the sky open and there sitting was an audience of giants. Instantly, the court felt grander and more welcoming. The sky was as beautiful as the ocean blue, like you’d find described as “Gorgeous Caribbean Metropolis" with a "rich pristine beach''. The song birds whispered - which would be odd for any morning, but on this particular day it was sudden - and the only sounds amplified were those of my heartbeat keeping pace with my breaths.
I looked up at the sun as I went for the serve, and it shined down like never before. In that moment there was no intimidation, but rather an assumptive assurance that this moment belonged to me.
I hit my first ball over the net, and then the second, third, fourth and on and on it went. And that’s when my “subconscious” thoughts shifted to a total state of self-realization and awareness. In that moment I was granted access into the depths of my soul. I became witness to all my prayers sent into the great distance, one strike at a time. My deepest desires and regrets were being extracted and displayed as clear as a face in a mirror.
The collage of memories I had lived were streaming before me, and I saw how they kept me grounded and fostered everlasting reverence and respect - for my health; ancestors (young & old); and life. There were the utterances of my dad’s voice; the sweet kisses from grandmother; and all the “insignificant” chats between this little girl and her aunts, uncles, close relatives, and friends. I heard the cheers and encouragement from strangers and passersby; saw the promotions and demotions from past employers; and witnessed the birthdays, special occasions, and many many holidays. They were true sounds of music for the "blind" and "afflicted".
As I retrieved the balls that I had hit over the net, it provided another experience for “seeing beyond”. With each one picked up I realized that I wasn’t merely picking up balls, but rather revisiting a meditative state. Here was an opportunity to resurrect and reassess everything. And when I retrieved the ones that didn’t make it over... well, it gave me a chance to decide that I would try again, with greater strength, courage, power, force, and aim.
I may never be the next Williams sister, or inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame, but that's not my aspiration. What I want is to become the best version of me. And if that journey requires half a lifetime, or the entirety of it, then as long as it’s done in faith and courage, backed by a burning purpose and passion... well then, in my heart I know I’ll always be the best player on the court for where and who I really want to be.
Patsy Whitely
