When I lose a point in tennis, it is painful, and in response thought becomes loud. I self-flagellate or make excuses to cope. I am looking for something that will bring me ease, something I can rationalize.

In this moment, shifting my attention to my other sensory inputs is one of the highest practices. I attend to the sweat on my skin, the grip in my hand, the fuzz on the ball. I open myself to the energy in my body that feels charged and alive. I am present.

Sometimes, in these moments, the self is no where to be found. There is only the world. I can only recognize this after the fact. This is meditation in sports.