Contentment and complacency

Things went well for the ambitious Julius Caesar — until they didn’t. (Image by M-CARLOS)

I took up tennis a few summers ago because I didn’t know how to win.

Whenever I was up, whether in an actual game or in a real-life circumstance, I would slow down.

And whenever I was down, I would hang in there too long without taking decisive action, tell myself it was okay, or give up.

So I wanted to learn how to stop doing that, in games and in life.

Though tennis has indeed improved my understanding of competition, I still haven’t figured out how to win most of the time — particularly at tennis. Neither the pandemic nor moving to Maine was great for my game, and most of the time I am outmatched by my opponents.

And I’m still tempted, when I’ve won a few points in a row, to back off and make space for the other person to come roaring back. And yes, it’s still a challenge in real life, too.

Self-compassion has been such an important element of my teaching work and my own self-development work for many years now. And it does come in handy in my tennis matches. There are a lot of times when I gently encourage myself to let go of a mistake on a previous point or remind myself that I have what it takes to win the current one.

However, as a person who has very little previous experience with competitive sports, I’m trying to work out how to offer myself the gentleness and self-compassion necessary to persist when things are difficult without offering so much comfort that I decide it’s fine if I don’t win.

It is fine if I don’t win. But how can I win if that is the story I’m telling myself?

More broadly, what is the relationship between contentment and complacency? How can I accept reality without being limited by it?

From the movie King Richard, I learned that Venus Williams turned down a $3 million deal with Nike. It was a huge gamble at a key moment in her career: the night before she was to play her first competitive match in three years.

Several months later, Venus signed a deal with Reebok for $12 million. Good for her!

I’m sure that I would have taken the $3 million, figuring that it was good enough. And that is just another reason to add to the pile of reasons why I’m not a professional tennis player. In a competitive situation, “good enough” isn’t good enough, on and off the court. Venus understood how to negotiate with a giant corporation at age fourteen, just as she understood that you never, ever back down in the middle of a tennis match, whether you’re winning or not.

My tendency is to be content. I cultivate a tendency to be content. I appreciate having peace in my life. I want a break from the constant hunger for more.

But what does that cost me? How does it limit me? What joy am I missing out on because I am not seeking out new experiences and grander accomplishments? Where am I not living up to my potential?

What I have come up with, for now, is to make a choice. I can experience contentment by being fully present — in this moment, this serve — and from that point of being, opt to stretch myself. Like a butterfly hanging out on one flower who suddenly chooses to flutter over to another flower, I can be content and seek growth at the same time.

I can enjoy something uncomfortable; I can take pleasure in the stress of competition. The game is not just the game I’m playing — the game is also the game in my head, where I decide that losing this set is not an option. The whole thing is made up — that’s what a game is. So why not add a few more rules that help me to become who I want to be?

I suppose that if I were ever in a situation like Venus Williams was in with Nike, I could say no just to see what would happen. You can only do that if you’re not afraid to get it wrong — if you don’t need that $3 million or believe so strongly that something else is coming that you don’t care if you don’t get it.

That is a very advanced level of play in the game of life. That’s what I’m striving for. That is not complacency. That’s where you recognize that even the comfort and contentment of your human experience will never be enough to satisfy you. Feeling bad about losing isn’t a problem because there is no losing. There is only the seeking, and the joy inherent in it.

I’m not there yet. But the more I keep playing the game, the closer I will come.