“LETTING THE GAME COME TO ME”

It is not uncommon that I begin writing not knowing where my reflection will go. I simply start with what has energy for me. I follow my conscious and unconscious streams of thoughts and often end up discovering what is in store for me. Today’s entry is a good example.

I am still in the middle of celebrating my 63rd birthday, though my actual birthday has come and gone. I was told that this year’s birthday is a once-in-a-lifetime birthday known as a platinum or diamond birthday, where the last two digits of my birth year, 1963, match my age, 63. So I decided to milk my birthday celebration beyond my actual birthday with the help of dear friends in Singapore and Malaysia. For one, it has been a non-stop feast, from Hong Kong dim sum to Peking duck, from Japanese ramen to Hokkien Prawn Mee noodle soup, to Bak Kuh Teh, and home-cooked Korean meals, over the last week. Much more than the delectable foods, I am pinching myself with the grateful realization of precious, like-minded, and similar-path-journeying friends, both in Southeast Asia and far away. I count my blessings often to know that I have such fine fellow peregrini. As I age, I consider my adult children and their spouses more as friends or fellow pilgrims than children.

Somehow, without planning, I’ve done things this week that I haven’t done in a long time. Maybe this pattern of trying new things will define this year? I wondered. Our Singaporean friend and host invited me to join his weekly yoga class. He warned me that most participants would be middle-aged Chinese Singaporean women, and he and one other man would be the only token men there. He tried to relax me and encourage me at the same time by saying it’s a “gentle” class, meaning there’s no crazy twisting or ungodly contorting. Thanks to the pandemic, I did do yoga for about a year with my wife, and I remember being quickly humbled as my stiff body experienced near torture. The profusion of sweat was my proof. The woman instructor was so quick-witted and friendly that I felt at home right away. Upon entering the class, my friend introduced my wife and me as his friends. She took the cue and asked me where we were from. I said, “Korea.” After a brief moment with a disapproving look, she refused to believe that we were from Korea and asked, “Where are you really from?” I said with a feeling of being caught, “We’re from America, living in Korea.” She said I looked like an American Chinese. I laughed out loud and wondered inside how she would come to deduce.

The same friend took me on a bike ride along the river on another day. Since I had not ridden a bike for a very long time, I was ready to feel the air on my face, which was a luxury of skipping Korea’s harsh winter. Though I immensely enjoyed the pleasant cool morning with a breeze on my face, signifying freedom, my untrained buttocks screamed at me. A long time ago, I did consider cycling as my next sport after basketball. But over time, I realized that I could not trust myself and that I would be too daring and not have enough respect for speed and safety. As much as I enjoy the wind on my face, I still don’t think it is a wise choice as my next sport.

On my actual birthday in Malaysia, my friends took me to the driving range. This outing was not as new as the others, as I joined my children at the driving range and at Top Golf in the US. While I enjoyed hitting the ball when I did make contact, I knew what my problems were: my left arm needed to maintain a straight line when swinging, and I was exerting too much of my own power rather than letting the club do the work. My blistered right thumb was proof that I was holding the club too tightly.

The day after, my friends in Kuala Lumpur invited me to their weekly badminton. Badminton is very popular in Southeast Asia, as indoor badminton courts are everywhere. Other than my stint at playground badminton during elementary school days in Korea, I could not remember the last time I played with intention. Again, I was properly humbled as my body was so tight and rigid that I did not have the kind of agility that is needed to play badminton well. I blamed myself for not stretching enough, and that it was early in the morning. After one hour of chasing the shuttlecock, my friend casually remarked that I was exerting too much power.

There was an unexpected theme of letting go, emptying, and “letting the game come to you.” As with yoga, driving ranges, badminton, and even cycling, loosening up and being in the flow is a counterintuitive art to learn and relearn. This realization naturally prompted me to reflect on areas of my life where I hold too tightly, try to control obsessively, or exert too much “power” and effort. What would it look like to let the game come to me? As soon as I ask myself this, I remember the mantra prayer, “Trust the river I am on,” which I have relied on for many years. This wasn’t a new lesson but a prudent one I needed to be reminded of.