I’ve finally found the sweet spot in tennis and in life. That magical space where shape, force, intent and purpose come together to do the job. The place where you’ve been striving for control but understand that you can get even greater satisfaction by doing less, when you stop trying to do things right in favour of doing the right things.
Writing means so many things to me, things that are hard to express because the mere act of language infers distance. (And lately, there’s much more space than I’d like between my mind and my laptop screen.) Although writers often wax lyrical about connecting with readers, and I do value that immensely, I suspect that I write mainly for myself. Writing helps me to process issues, experiences and conversations that sometimes need a lifetime to break down. Writing encourages me to clutch memories before they slip away with time and distance – like here, where putting these words to the page catapulted me to a time, place and event that changed me forever … in ways that I am still uncovering.