Thursday, January 13, 2011

Tristan and Andrew arrive in Salem and play a round of lawn bocce with Kimberly Fanshier and Will in the park behind the Fanshier house.

Days and months are travelers of eternity.  So are the years that pass by.  Those who steer a boat across the sea, or drive a horse over the earth until they succumb to the weight of years, spend every minute of their life traveling.  There are great numbers of ancients, too, who died on the road.  I myself have been tempted for a long time by the cloud-moving wind—filled with a strong desire to wander.

—Basho, The Narrow Road to the Deep North

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8:00 PM, park behind Kimberly's house, Salem, OR

Kimberly & Tristan

3

Will & Andrew

1

To relieve the monotony--music, conversation, stop, music, conversation, stop--I began to read Phil Jackson's Sacred Hoops to Tristan as we drove in from the coast to Eugene to connect with the interstate 5 and briefly visit with an old friend Arlo who was living there.  

"In basketball--as in life," I read as we drove into Eugene, "true joy comes from being fully present in each and every moment, not just when things are going your way.  Of course, it's no accident that things are more likely to go your way when you stop worrying about whether you're going to win or lose and focus your full attention on what's happening right this moment.  The day I took over the Bulls, I vowed to create an environment based on the principles of selflessness and compassion I'd learned as a Christian in my parents' home; sitting on a cushion practicing Zen; and studying the teachings of the Lakota Sioux."

As we tried in vain to quickly connect with Arlo downtown I read of Phil's early elbow injury from his days of playing baseball with brute force instead of spiritual presence.  "A journal of a thousand miles starts with one breath," I began.  His psychologist brother suggested hypnosis to get his rhythm back after an elbow injury, but the idea struck young Philip as "blasphemy because of [his] fundamentalist religious training."  He wrote, "I was wary of giving up control of my mind, even if it was just an experiment."  Focussing mentally on "the act of throwing the ball" gave Jackson power beyond simply throwing the ball as hard as he could, and the next game, the first since his injury, was a revelation, one the best performances of his young career.

As we took the wrong turn at our junction with five after struggling through downtown rush hour traffic, I read of Jackson's reconsideration of everything, suddenly able to turn off his mind "and simply trust [his] body's innate wisdom."

As we righted our course the autobiography began with the story of his mother, "passionate about spirituality," and "won over" as a young girl in Montana by a Pentecostal preacher.

By the time we reached Salem we had bore witness to transitions between sports--Michael Jordon's "Second Coming" and his own switches between basketball and baseball--and from player to coach, and between modes of spiritual thought. 

Much was learned of the means by which one may transfer deep thought to ball-based sport and vice versa, and how the narrative of such a process may be conveyed.  Spiritual Lessons of a Oyster-Shell Warrior.

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The Revolutionary Idea: how does it thrive?  How does it travel?  Where does it take shelter without compromising its integrity? From whom may it take contributions?  How does it remain revolutionary utilizing the aid of bourgeois assistance?  How does it transcend categorization?  How does it both grow like a grape and keep like a raisin? Or must it explode?