Hitting the Bullseye

As a kid I spent afternoons practicing basketball shots. As a precociously serious yogi, I was concentrating on the inner process, sensing how fear and neediness and uncertainty could undermine the shot.

I recognized that there was nothing my mind could do to help. Thoughts were utterly impotent; they could only comment, to no benefit. Nothing helpful comes from the mind; all calculation is inherently miscalculation. You must train your body to take the action, and otherwise relax and let it quietly happen. Less mental chatter means less distraction.

Pretty good stuff for a nine year old, yet I never became a great player. I was the guy who made shots that spun around the rim a half dozen times before drooping down the wrong way. Same for bowling, putt-putt golf, and every sport or repetitive physical activity. I was always a "B", never an "A".

My latest computer game addiction is Fallout Shelter, which I play on iPad (App Store link). Part of the game involves a coordination task that requires touching the screen the moment a rhythmically oscillating series of lights forms a bullseye. And I quickly figured out the trick: feel the rhythm, jab your finger along in time with the lights, and, once synchronized, simply punch the bullseye. But I usually hit a nano-moment too soon or too late. Again, a "B", not an "A".

But this time there was an epiphany. I noticed I was doing something counterproductive; something I'd always done in all sports and games. Once I've begun poking my finger at the screen (or releasing the basketball), I let the gods handle the rest. Having aimed, and quieted my mind, I figure that's it for my end. Either it works or it doesn't. Buh-bye and good luck.

So I tried something new. I did the synchronization trick, I quieted myself down, and added a new step: I also decided to hit the bullseye.

And....bullseye. Every time.

I've expressed it a bit delicately. I "decided to" hit the bullseye. You might call it self-confidence, or faith, or positive thinking, or lots of other things. I've heard it expressed by many people in many ways, but it never struck me that all they're saying is you need to decide to hit it. It's not a desire or need (though that's how some people express it, even if they reject the grunting, whiny, emotional approach I've instinctively avoided). Simply don't forget - amid all the prep and tricks and quieting down and whatever - to also hit a bullseye. Don't leave that part off the to-do list. Don't forget to also hit a bullseye!

I always entrusted basketballs to fickle winds out of a staunch distaste for over-attachment to results. That reasoning was wise, but I'd taken it too far. I was literally throwing it all away. There is an anxious, emotional, yearning sort of attachment that I'd correctly recognized as counterproductive, but there's a much lighter, merely intentional sort of attachment that's necessary. Within calm silence - blithe equanimity with whatever ensues - you still need to engage that playful sliver of an intention. It's small. It's not John McEnroe screaming at the ball. You may entirely let go of the process, but you still must drive it home.


I figured out very early that bad musicians play their instrument while good musicians play the room. I think this is the exact same move; a sense of engaged follow-through. So I already knew it, but forgot to apply it in this context. It's cursedly hard to distribute insights from one realm into all realms. In the end, little's actually hidden from us (which is why revelation so often elicits a sense of deja vu; an exclamation of "of course!"). We just get unnecessarily blinkered. The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind.