In April, I got an invitation from Speedo Philippines to write about “My Best Swim.”
I used to join swimming contests when I was young, but I was glad to see that what Speedo wanted was not so much a story on fastest times or memorable competitions, but on “the process” of swimming—one’s thoughts, emotions, reactions.
I carefully read the rules to make sure that anyone (except Speedo employees and their relatives) could join.
It had been years since I joined any writing contest (the last was the 2003 Palancas), and the 100-word limit was a challenge.
But if I urge my students to test themselves and develop their skills, whether in mathematics or in writing, then I should do the same. When teachers, writers or indeed, professionals of all sorts, become complacent (or worse, fear failure), they stagnate.
Two weeks ago, Speedo Philippines marketing communications officer Edelyn Yanilla called to say I won the grand prize. Now I have an underwater camera!
Winning essay
With Yanilla’s permission, I am reprinting “My Best Swim” essay in exactly 100 words:
“The math problem was difficult; the solution eluded me. I needed a swim. The sky was cloudless, the water inviting. I started with rhythmic strokes and routine kicks. Lap after lap, I breathed in and out, working my body but relaxing my mind. My head began to clear. Suddenly I experienced a flash of insight. I got the answer! I swam on, invigorated, working out the details as my strokes grew faster and my heart rate increased. It was the best swim ever. Not only did I get a vigorous workout, but I also overcame a mental challenge as well.”
In third year college, I took a finite geometry course. Our professor, Jose Marasigan, was superb, the topics were interesting, but the proofs were nonroutine and abstract. My classmates and I met regularly to discuss analytical details. But when I needed to plug the gaps, I would take to the pool.
While swimming, I would enter what scientists variously called “the flow,” “the zone,” “heightened consciousness.” Poet and naturalist Diane Ackerman calls it “deep play,” in her book of the same title.
Deep play
“At the heart of deep play is a form of meditation in motion,” Ackerman says. “Meditation requires concentrating on a limited field; a rhythmic motion (usually deep breathing); repetition to clear the mind of distractions; withdrawal from the world; alert relaxation; mental cleansing or emptying … In deep play, one also finds physical and mental control, sensory alertness … Both rely on focus, integration, and power.”
Ackerman quotes athletes who experience deep play:
Weightlifter Yuri Vlasov: “At the peak of a tremendous and victorious effort, while the blood is pounding in your head, all suddenly becomes quiet within you. At that moment you have the conviction that you contain all the power in the world, that you are capable of everything, that you have wings. There is no more precious moment in life than this.”
Golf legend Arnold Palmer: “I’d liken it to a sense of reverie, not a dreamlike state but the somehow insulated state that a great musician achieves in a great performance. He’s aware of where he is and what he’s doing, but his mind is on the playing of his instrument with an internal sense of rightness—it is not merely mechanical, it is not only spiritual; it is something of both, on a different plane and a more remote one.”
Finding flow
When we are in the zone, we perform well, often exceeding expectations. Instinctively we crave this state of affairs, but frequently turn to the wrong things.
Teenage boys use alcohol to summon up the courage and wit to approach girls they like. They take Ecstasy to achieve, well—what the drug promises, until withdrawal kicks in.
Sports and hobbies, even work, are way better sources of flow. When I am “in the zone” in the classroom, there is no more exhilarating place to be. Every word I say makes sense, every diagram an eye-opener, every student riveted.
Everyone seems to be in a trance, and when the bell rings, no one hears, no one moves, until several heartbeats later someone groans and pleads, “Can we finish it, Ma’am?”
During flow, students will remember the day’s lesson and perform well during the examination.
Since flow optimizes learning, how can we access this experience?
In his book “Finding Flow,” the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi says, “Flow tends to occur when a person’s skills are fully involved in overcoming a challenge that is just about manageable. Optimal experiences usually involve a fine balance between one’s ability to act, and the available opportunities for action. If challenges are too high one gets frustrated, then worried, and eventually anxious. If challenges are too low relative to one’s skills, one gets relaxed, then bored. If both challenges and skills are perceived to be low, one gets to feel apathetic. But when high challenges are matched with high skills, then the deep involvement that sets flow apart from ordinary life is likely to occur.”
To experience flow, find an activity you are passably good at, preferably something active: running, swimming, gardening, reading, biking, teaching, singing.
Passive activities, such as watching television, seldom lead to flow. Start the activity, keep at it. Thirty minutes or an hour later, you will lose yourself in the task. You will be in the zone.
Whether they knew it or not, the other winners of the Speedo contest also wrote about flow experiences. Second placer Jennifer Sia says “the water shapes your character, allows you to endure beyond what you thought was a limitation.” Third placer Regine Yu says swimming “helped me face life’s challenges and solve my problems with ease.”
For their stories, go to Speedo’s Facebook page.
E-mail the author at blessbook@yahoo.com.