Lessons From Olympus

I haven’t posted for a couple of weeks because I was entertaining family and had a ball doing so. Also, I am an unrepentant Olympics junkie and have spent a great deal of time in front of the television, watching athletes of all countries compete. It was while watching gymnastics and swimming the other night that I realized how much of a connection there is between a Zen approach to living and the Olympics.

The first awareness I had was that of the true significance of “the moment”.  In Buddhism we often speak of the need to live in the moment, recognizing both the past and the future as stories we tell ourselves, largely based in illusion. In situations in which the moments can be sub-divided into hundredths of a second, the true significance of a single moment is magnified and easily seen. Lives and fortunes are changed, joy and suffering are experienced, all in these bits of time that are shorter than the blink of an eye or a bolt of lightening.  Jordyn Weiber, recognizably one of the finest gymnasts in the world, failed to qualify for the individual all-around competition. It was watching her intense suffering begin at the moment she realized that her dream of individual gold was simply not to be that struck me so vividly.  In the moment before her score was broadcast her dream lived… a moment later it was revealed to her and the world as an illusion. She has worked terribly hard and given much of herself, every minute of that training aimed at the goal of achieving that gold medal; and in a moment it was gone. Two things can be learned here: first, that the future is an illusion and that to live there robs us of living in the present; second, that fame, fortune and awards are not part of us in any way. She was the same woman in the moment after realizing her dream was gone that she was at the moment before, when she thought the goal might still be in her grasp, but now she was suffering.

The second awareness I had was a familiar one…the absolutely transitory nature of everything. The Olympics pound home over and over the same message…nothing ever remains as it was. The past cannot be recaptured no matter how hard one works, or how talented one may be. This has been true for many of the athletes and Michael Phelps is the perfect example. When he came in fourth in an event in which he was thought to be unbeatable, people the world over were shocked…”How could this be?”  In a very real way, and by his own later admission, this Michael Phelps was not the former Michael Phelps. How could he be? We all change from moment to moment; no past occurrence can ever be recaptured or repeated because the same set of circumstances that came together in that unique moment can never be replicated. It is for this reason that in our own lives, attempts to repeat an experience that was really pleasurable, be it a really good party or a love-making session or a great concert most often do not live up to the original because change has been taking place in every aspect of the first experience. Michael Phelps knows this, and as a result has been able to embrace the reality of each race for its own experience. He certainly still gives it his all, but knows that ultimately, what is, is.

Finally, the affects of attachment and ego have been thrown onto the sports pages by another American swimmer, Ryan Lochte. For weeks before the Olympics began, Lochte had been showing off his diamond-studded “grille” and telling the world, “Bejing was Michael Phelps’s time, but London is mine.” Ryan is a truly gifted swimmer, and a holder of world records, but when he become wrapped up in his ego and succumbed to the illusion that he was invincible and could take everything because of who he is, reality set in, as it always does. Although he has won a couple of races, he has lost a larger number, including a couple to Phelps as well as the last leg of a relay in which his teammates had given him the lead when he entered the pool. Unfortunately, there has been much schadenfreude surrounding those losses, as the world seems to enjoy watching him not live up to his own hype. “Pride goeth before a fall” seems a frighteningly appropriate statement in this case. I think that his mistake came when he traded his love for the competition of his sport and replaced it with love of self.  Interestingly, a seventeen-year-old female swimmer from Colorado named Missy Franklin has put Lochte’s behavior in bas-relief by being his opposite. She has won one race after another, beating world champions, and is thrilled and a little surprised each time. She speaks only of how grateful she is to be an Olympian and how much she loves to swim. It’s never about her and always about the experience she is having, and the world has embraced her for it. This study in opposites is a stark reminder that embracing the self is like grabbing a wet bar of soap…the harder you squeeze, the more quickly it will elude your grasp.