AGEFULLY AGING

Inspirational reflections on this and that.

FINDING THE SWEET SPOT

Recently, a player saw this paddle and said, “Wow, that guy sure hits the sweet spot.” I checked out my own and realized it’s not nearly as defined. Finding the ‘sweet spot’ (“The optimal point that produces the best possible result.”) takes focus, practice, consistency and a relaxed approach. You can’t just hit one great ball, smack the next 50 into the net and call yourself a player. (Though folks do.)

Lately, I’ve been trying to find the ‘sweet spot’ in everything I do, including driving. You know, getting where I need to go without cursing or flipping someone off. Also, most days I swim a half mile in a chlorine-filled pool. Confined to the chemical torture of a cement tub may be good for the joints but the cap rips my hair, and the goggles leave raccoon marks around my eyes. Still I’m finding the serenity in it.

Today there was a little boy in the lane next to me. He casually paddled while floating on a Styrofoam noodle. Every now and then, he would lean back and gaze peacefully at the sky. Even the waves I made doing the butterfly didn’t disturb the joy he found in simply floating. ‘Just wait till he’s older,’ I thought. ‘He’ll be huffing and puffing just like me to stay in shape.’ Intrigued by his seeming bliss, I finally stopped.

“No school today, huh?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said with a smile.

“How old are you?”

“Six,” he replied proudly.

“Oh,” I said slightly surprised. “I figured you were at least seven.”

His blue eyes widened.

“Well, I will be seven on Saturday.”

“You mean to tell me that in two days you will be seven? Most kids would have said, ‘I’m almost seven!’

“Oh,” he smiled. “Well, right now, I’m just happy being six.”

That’s the sweet spot: finding joy at six or sixty. My grandmother focused on the now like a Zen master. Her sense of peace eluded me. She didn’t fret the future or bemoan the past and her lack of ambition drove me crazy because I had plans. Still do. The secret that she, the fellow above, and the little boy know is this: You paddle, then drift. Wherever you end up is just fine because you’re still there. It’s a thing.


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