From Combat to Harmony
by Patrick Thias Balmain
 Most of
us have a relationship to the outside world based on conflict, the power
struggle. It is quite tiring. One must always be on the alert. Could there be
another way of doing things?
To Move Toward . . . or Distance Yourself From
Because
of our characters and personal histories, each of us has a tendency to either
move toward people, things, novelty or to move away from them.
None of us are all one or the other; we are one or the
other depending on the context. For example, I am shy and have a tendency to
distance myself from people by refusing to make contact; on the other hand,
when I love an activity I go toward it without any doubt or hesitation. We can
watch ourselves and determine if we are more "moving toward" or "going away
from" kinds of people. This is all it takes to face a new situation. Once the
pattern has been recognized, we can begin to craft a method of working on
ourselves to break our habitual patterns.
Physically speaking, a person who "goes toward" will have
the tendency to favor skiing on the balls of his feet, whereas someone who
"moves away from" will have a tendency to rely more on his heels. The first
stage is the realization of this fact, the second is to recognize it in
yourself and accept it in the action, and the third is to begin to reorient
your body. This practice consists of experiencing the two extreme positions,
and provoking and feeling the state of mind associated with each. It is not a
question of one being a "good" attitude and the other being "bad"; they are two
attitudes that inspire physical and psychological tensions.
To get
out of this chain of interlinked tensions, we start by discovering how to
establish a sense of being rooted in the Earth. This rooted sensation consists
of resting on your feet in a standing position and feeling the ground and the
contact of the soles of your feet with the ground. If the mass of your body is
projected over the middle of your feet, your body can naturally relax and be
freely available for whatever is required of it. This stance permits you to
detach yourself from achieving the goal ("moving toward") or fleeing ("moving
away from") through orienting your energy toward the center of the body and,
more specifically, in that part of the body that connects the body to the
Earth: the soles of the feet. This orientation helps us to break free of the
automatic response of either moving toward or distancing ourselves from an
objective.
But be
warned. This impulse will come back at a gallop. When the impulse arises to
psychologically extend yourself toward a particular objective, the old habits
will reemerge and restore the chains of tensions to their original place. What
can you do to avoid this? Once you have planted your "root" it needs to be
fed -- in other words, this bond to the Earth needs to be recalled and practiced
on a regular basis. Snow-gliding sports are in no way an obstacle to this, for,
in contrast to walking, the gliding motion is dependent upon a quasi-permanent
contact between the middle of the feet and the Earth.
Between
"going toward" and "moving away from" there is another state of being; it is a
relaxed presence that is ever ready to act. This strong connection to the Earth
places us in a new dynamic. Physically relaxed, the mind can open itself to any
situation with discernment. There is no room for doubt, which is intimately
connected with the projection into what lies ahead, behind, or somewhere else.
Projection is the source of doubt; this stimulus arising from the depths of the
being lifts the diaphragm and the lungs. When you are in doubt, you will find
yourself suspended and cut off from your root, like the inexperienced swimmer
who tries to keep his mouth out of the water.
The
sensation of being rooted makes it possible to place the body spheres correctly
and, primarily, to release tensions. This physical posture frees the mind.
Establishing a sense of being rooted to the Earth is essential to centering in
the moment.
In each
one of us there is a space, a strong point for each of our thoughts and
actions, an "empty source." The connection to this source is found in silence
and through a movement within. I forget the outside so that I may finally be
better present to experience it. The more I "inhabit" my body, the more lucid I
am in the world. The energy used by the brain is located within the body. If my
mind acts like a tyrant over my body, the body becomes taut in order to reach
its goal, and no longer provides either a good supply of energy or the
perceptual acuity required for the activity. Stress that usurps control of the
body is nothing more than a chain of tensions.
Getting Carried Away by a Situation
The skier desires what is outside of him. Projected
toward the goal, he creates a state of general tension in his body: the feet
are buttressed, the legs taut, the belly lifts and retracts, the shoulders
hunch, the center of gravity is "nailed down." The body is no longer freely
available. I am, of course, describing extreme situations, but we can read
phenomena of this type in our posture, no matter what the level of our
technical ability is. All these tensions are the result of the skier's refusal
to accept the situation for what it is. Either he fears or wants, but the
essential fact is that he desires the situation to be something other than what
it is. These relationships of attraction or repulsion to the surrounding
environment characterize the person who seeks to dominate the outside world and
who, by the same token, finds himself dominated by it. This is the link of
cause and effect.
When the
skier is outside of himself, he is investing everything in the goal instead of
in his body and senses, which will lead to the goal. The body is relegated to
the function of satellite, revolving outside the center of the action.
Psychologically carried away by the goal, the skier loses all lucid grasp of
the present moment and its requirements. For example, some skiers confuse
visual anticipation and physical anticipation. That is to say, they physically
stretch toward the end of the turn by replacing the curved trajectory of the
center of gravity with a straight line that will take them more directly to
their objective, the effect of which is for the edge to lose its grip. Often
this phenomenon is present but is hard for the skier who is unaware of its
existence to detect. Moreover, a good number of joint traumas arise out of this
gap between body and mind within an action. One could call that impatience, if
not greed.
When we
close ourselves off to or refuse to accept the world as it is, we regard the
world that surrounds us as an aggressor seeking to prevent us from reaching a
longed-for objective. Wishing and being able to realize them do not always form
a happy couple.
Being at the Heart of the Action
Opening
to the outside world begins with accepting the world as it is (to say yes to
the world, to say yes to the situation). Openness to the world is a state that
is simultaneously psychological, emotional, and physical. Internally this
openness is constant. It is with this attitude as a starting point that oneness
can manifest. Accepting the world for what it is, the skier can create a
dynamic equilibrium between his body and the laws governing the world around
him. This balance will open the gates of expression for the skier: the gesture
adapted to the situation.
For the
first step, I center myself and place myself psychologically at the heart of my
sensations, at the center of my body. For the next step, I open myself to the
information the outside world is sending me while maintaining my anchoring
within my body.
The
acceptance of being unattached to the goal facilitates this centering and
provides the looseness and relaxation necessary for right action. Harmony
cannot manifest itself if there is a desire to own the next moment. Harmony
finds its source in the "here and now." Responding with acceptance to the
myriad situations that follow on each other's heels, the skier makes himself
one with the present moment. He enters into the space of expression.
Inner
harmony is the source, the strong point for healthy communication with the
surrounding environment. Internal conflict drags the skier into a dualistic
relationship with the outside world. Inner harmony is founded upon
self-acceptance. Not the image one has of oneself or seeks to portray to
others, but the being who is uphill of the image, with its qualities and
defects, strengths and weaknesses. When the skier truly accepts who he is, the
race to possessing everything stops. Tensions fall away. Following this moment,
the skier begins to be creative, to express himself freely without having to
respond to a more or less conscious diagram.
The
simple fact of ceaselessly wishing to be a little farther than the place one is
produces a terrible frustration, which is a source of stress and states of
limitation. Ceasing to race after what is does not mean simply doing nothing.
Quite the contrary! Letting go of what surrounds one awakens peace of mind and
self-esteem. What better way could there be to place yourself in the heart of
the action?
A movement that originates in the center of gravity
permits the skier to communicate effectively with the surrounding environment
through the intermediary of his senses: through his feet he perceives the
ground, through his hands the air, through his eyes the environment, and so
forth.
All of
this information is managed to keep the center of the gravity at the center of
the movement at every moment. The body has the possibility to open itself to
the world if it is inhabited at every moment by a skier who is attuned to that.
Excerpted with permission from:
 The InnerGlide: The Tao of Skiing, Snowboarding, and Skwalling
by Patrick Thias Balmain.
(Originally published in French under the title La Glisse Intérieure. ©2005, Translation ©2007)
Reprinted with permission of the publisher, Destiny Books, a division of Inner Traditions International. www.innertraditions.com
Info/Order this book.
About the Author
Patrick Thias Balmain is a professional skier and snowboarder. In 1992,
he created the first skwal, introduced the first commercially
manufactured model, and established skwal races on the circuit of
international competition. A ski, snowboard, and skwal instructor in
Courcheval, France, he has trained countless practitioners,
instructors, and competitors in Europe, North America, and Japan.
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