Finding Her Way

It hit me on a recent morning while cheering on our 12-year-old daughter and her lacrosse teammates: Lizzy is in her happy place.

I watched with pride as she cradled the ball toward the goal, moving with confidence and intention; as she passed with ease and accuracy; as she went all-out on offense and defense.

Whether she was on the field and part of the play or on the sidelines encouraging her peers, she was trying her best while having so much fun — the big smile on her face proof of her joy. 

It was a marked difference from her winter basketball season. As a coach for Lizzy’s team, I had a front-row seat to her effort and engagement — and both were inconsistent at best.

Although she believes in herself on the lacrosse field — something you can see and almost feel — she is self-conscious on the basketball court, ­despite having the necessary skills and abilities and a solid understanding of the sport.

Whereas Lizzy frequently returns home after a lacrosse practice or game eager to talk about her performance or a new technique or play, she rarely wanted to discuss her latest basketball experience. 

I can only hope that she seeks out or stumbles upon things that tap into her innate abilities, that bring her joy, and that she cares about as she grows.

While she plays lacrosse with a natural ease, she plays basketball like it’s work. And not the sort of work she cares that much about.

It’s that intersection of ability, joy, and value that sets lacrosse apart for Lizzy. When I asked her recently why it’s her favorite sport, her response was simple: “I just get it, and it’s fun.” That’s how I feel about basketball, how her older sister feels about tennis, and how her dad feels about hockey.

This feeling isn’t just limited to sports, though: It can happen in any area of our lives in which we feel a sense of effortless effort, or wu-wei, as author and scholar Edward Slingerland, PhD, writes in “The Many Benefits of Spontaneity — and How to Cultivate More of It.” “Wu-wei is a state of mind where you lose the sense of yourself as an agent and are completely absorbed in what you are doing. You are spontaneous, unselfconscious, and relaxed. … [This] often amounts to greater success in everything you do.”

I feel fortunate to witness Lizzy experiencing wu-wei on the lacrosse field — and to now be aware of the different ways she engages in her activities. As a parent and coach, I pushed her pretty hard during the basketball season. I was often frustrated with her demeanor: I could see her potential, but I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t seem to care.

It turns out basketball probably isn’t that just-right mix of what lights her up. The reality is that a lot of what I might suggest for her won’t be. And that’s OK.

As her mom, I can only hope that she seeks out or stumbles upon things that tap into her innate abilities, that bring her joy, and that she cares about as she grows. I can hope she stays true to herself and her desires, even in the face of pressure or “shoulds.” Even if that means taking chances. Especially then.

Because it’s when we step outside our comfort zone that we often find that sweet spot where purpose, belonging, and contentment meet. Right now, that’s lacrosse for Lizzy. Down the road? Who knows, but I plan to be there, always cheering her on.