A note of context: I played ultimate competitively for a long time, and this newsletter began as an effort to examine life through the lens of the sport.
A lot happened in 2021. My dad died in February. Katharine and I drove across the country after my siblings, our partners, and I packed up his Seattle apartment. I left a full-time job for part-time, first to make the space necessary for everything happening in my personal life and then, as the spring turned into summer, to begin facilitating conversations about anger as it relates to ultimate, teaching writing classes, working as a freelance editor, and focusing on my own writing. We moved out of DC, which was Katharine’s and my home for 8 and 11 years, respectively, to Richmond, where I’m originally from. We got engaged(!). We almost bought a house. And just like everyone else, we put one foot in front of the other as we tried to make sense of everything going on.
Life is doing crazy stuff right now, throwing us all for a loop. Our personal lives, our social lives, our teams’ lives… they’re all in states of change. That can be a great and welcome thing, but it can also be overwhelming, and even chaotic. A shift of some sort is happening; how big a spike it’ll look like on the chart of existence, who knows. But I think we’re all feeling it.
Now, just like always, there’s another year on our plate.
There’s plenty on my mind as I step into 2022. Anticipation and excitement. Fear and despondence. Gratitude and appreciation. Defeat and doubt. Determination and resolve. Confusion. Impatience. Happiness. Dread. Connection. Disconnect. Indignity. Hope.
It feels like far too much to hold by myself. Part of how I’m both moving forward and bidding farewell is by sharing these thoughts with you.
Another is by praying.
What is prayer?
I’ve been trying, and struggling, to put words to what I mean when I say that. For me, praying is the act of being with my heart– sometimes listening to it, sometimes voicing it–while knowing that the life I’m part of is far bigger than me.
That still leaves plenty of questions, though. How do you define prayer? How do you do it? Is it something that’s supposed to “work”? When I pray, am I hoping? Am I asking? If so, am I asking someone? Is God involved? The same God I learned about in Sunday school? What if you don’t believe in God? Can you still pray? If so, who hears your prayers? Is there a recipient or a listener involved at all?
What I’m talking about is something that, while spiritual, can also be perfectly secular.
Have you ever had the feeling, maybe while out in the woods or mountains, that you’re connected to it all? That you’re not just looking at and appreciating all this stuff that’s separate from you, but that it’s a part of you and you’re a part of it? I had this realization a couple years ago, while on a long hike around the time I was waking up and turning toward all the pent up grief: you’re not alone. All of creation can hold your sorrow. It already does. That’s prayer.
Prayer is knowing that whatever force put the trees there and makes them grow; whatever makes the stars shine and planets orbits and birds fly; whatever makes music sound good and loss hurt and dogs’ tails wag; that which has no beginning and no end relative to space or time– that force is in me, too. I am part of this existence, and life energy runs through me.
Prayer is just the act of touching my little slice of the greater consciousness.
Prayer is a statement of what I’m contemplating, and a question about where I need to go. It’s waiting and listening. It’s orienting myself. Prayer is writing, speaking, and singing. It’s conversation and choice. Actions are prayers.
Prayer is something you can do on bended knee with your eyes closed and hands clasped together. It also doesn’t have to involve any of those things. Prayer is something you have to be sure not to let become procedural.
Prayer is asking and opening up to receiving. Prayer is multifaceted, deeply personal, and hard to explain. Prayer is something we all know how to do.
That’s my best shot. Thich Nhat Hahn talks about our concepts and explanations of God not being the moon itself, but rather just fingers pointing at the moon. I think the same kind of thinking is useful for understanding the words we might use to understand prayer: they’re a sign post, but they aren’t the place itself.
Here are some of my prayers
I pray for a good year. I pray for wisdom. I pray for smooth waters with everything from deciding how we spend our life savings to what we’ll cook for dinner. I pray for space. I pray for a listening ear, and a good one at that. I pray that I see: this is not about me. I pray for a pause between stimulus and response. I pray that love will be my first move forward. I pray that we all heal.
I feel a gap between my true self and this feeling that money and recognition are the point. I pray that the gap widens.
I pray that I see my inherent goodness and know that I’m not heading for some final verdict. That shame be relieved of its duties, and that its energy serves something greater.
I pray…
…that my capacity for compassion– toward myself and others– grows.
…that I see and step out of assumptions I carry.
…that I remember: untangling and accounting for my own behavior is the work.
…that there be time for healing, being together, and caring for our home.
…that our marriage be a beautifully planted seed
…that defensiveness no longer be on the menu. That I be quick to surrender.
…that I ask for help. That I know: it’s ok to hurt.
…that I forgive myself.
…that questions and challenges and disagreements prompt loving dialogue and deep connection.
…that in each moment, I feel what is true: I have what I need.
…that I spend more time grappling and less time answering.
…that I be ok if it happens and ok if it doesn’t.
…that I serve, not help.
…that love remains the real point.
…that I clear space for what I love most. That I have the courage to set boundaries (around my time and attention).
…that I write off nobody. That I speak lovingly, or not at all.
…that I see the divine in everyone.
…that we all feel connected.
Who knows what the future holds? I haven’t been there before. But it’s something beautiful and bright. I say and share these prayers because I know they’re part of how I’ll get there.
I’m praying for ultimate, too
Since this is a frisbee newsletter (kind of), I want to offer a few prayers for the game and the people involved with it.
We’re all carrying a lot right now as individuals, and any arena we show up in together– frisbee included– is going to wind up reflecting what’s on our plates and hearts. Everything we’re up against extends to this game, and every nook and cranny therein– on the field, on the internet, in the weight room and the car ride to practice and at parties. In other words, ultimate is navigating plenty of stuff, too.
In that regard, I pray…
…that we know that it’s ok not to grow all the time. Just ask the natural world.
…that any of us setting goals or striving toward something always knows that we are worthy and loved beyond measure, and that no result can ever change that.
…that any player who is going to lose someone this year has the teammates they need to make it through.
… that the game’s strategic evolution remain so, so much fun to watch.
…that some sibling duo is out there throwing together (and that if the older one is being kind of an ass about accuracy or drops, the younger one forgives him).
…that all those forehands and backhands and weird overheads that are never completed get those siblings through something hard.
…that we break our addiction to this/that, red/blue, me/them outlooks.
…that we find a way to forgive, and to care more about love than any of its subordinates.
…that deep friendships be formed at tournaments and car rides to tournaments. That the shape and tide of those friendships move as it should.
..that all the new babies (whether they show up on the sidelines or not) walk light paths. Same for the parents.
…that we understand that an activity’s popularity is not necessarily a marker of whether doing it is nourishing or worthwhile.
…that anyone leaving one team or place for another may take and keep just the right stuff. That they feel their old home always, and that they feel welcome in their new one.
… that we celebrate our wins as much as we lug around our losses.
It’s all just words
These words, and the words of any prayer, only matter to the degree that they touch the parts of ourselves that aren’t quite so concerned with what’s quantifiable. They’re only worth the feelings and actions they inspire.
With that, I hope you feel what I’m praying, in whatever way you’re meant to. I think that if we want to, we can find our way back to a way of praying that comes from the heart, that touches that life force I spoke about above. Maybe our prayers will see us through the years ahead.
May it be so.
Happy new year.
Extra thoughts
A while back, a friend gave me a book called The Illuminated Prayer: The Five-Times Prayer of the Sufis. I pulled it off the shelf in search of guidance for this post, and these words from the mystic poet Rumi were particularly touching.
All religions,
All this singing,
Is one song.
The differences are just
illusion and vanity.
The sun’s light looks a little different
On this wall than it does on that wall,
And a lot different on this other one,
But it’s still one light.
Also, I’m a big fan of 90s hip-hop. OutKast is perhaps my favorite group, and Andre 3000’s bars on the song Millennium are perhaps my favorite verse. That he starts talking about praying midway through isn’t a coincidence. Here’s the song, and here are the lyrics.
Want to journal in the new year?
I host expressive writing classes where you show up, do some free writing, share, and repeat. Students write about whatever’s on their mind, from whether or not they’re a morning person to what their first job was like. Overall, the chance to pause and take stock feels really good. The link above has more info, but if you want to skip straight to signing up, here you go.
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Have a great week,
Jonathan
The bible says you pray like this
Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from the evil one.
Go back and see what you wrote.