Telling It Like It Is
by Jean-Claude Gerard Koven • Rancho Mirage, CA

We all have gurus. Even if they don't have Sanskrit names, speak with a sub-continental lilt, or wear flowing robes, they can turn out to be our greatest teachers – provided we recognize them when they grace our lives.

It is said that when the student is ready, the master appears. This adage is usually associated with sitting at the feet of some swami in India who speaks in parables and gives his students the occasional whack on the head. Certainly, I've met countless disciples who waft through life inhaling the intoxicating wisdom of their manifested master–and have always been left wondering when it would be my turn to find the one great sage who would sweep me into a state of eternal bliss.

Looking back over my wanderings through the metaphysical maze, however, I see that innumerable teachers have guided my journey. Unfortunately, at the time, I was so married to a certain model of what a master is that I failed to recognize mine along the way. In truth, we all have gurus–except most of them aren't so obvious. They don't have Sanskrit names, speak with accents, or wear flowing robes. They appear ordinary in every way, yet they turn out to be great teachers.

“When the student is ready…” is a grossly misleading phrase, because we are always ready. We are always in the presence of masters, always being taught and tested, refining old perspectives and gaining new ones. We only need to wake up to what's really happening and participate more consciously. During those wondrous moments when I am truly present, the entire universe is my teacher. Each flower, bird and sunset is my personal guru. Everyone I meet, every TV program or movie, every book or article changes me in ways so marvelous and consummate that they can only be divinely guided.

And yet, in my life there is one person who has truly become my personal guru. Amazingly, he regards me in the same light, which only proves that when two beings tell it like it really is, it’s always a teaching/learning experience. Robin Willner, also known as Lefty, is ranked as one of the world’s top tennis players in his age bracket–in a year he’ll be competing with the octogenarians. Over his career, he’s played against (and often beat) some of the greatest names in tennis. Lefty is one of the few people who says what he means and means what he says. When he tells you something, you can take it to the bank; when he makes an appointment, you can set your watch by his arrival.

Twice a week, Lefty and I meet on the tennis court. Our lessons have a curious rhythm: we rally a bit, then come to the net to talk. Here again is a case of how preconceived notions and expectations can get in the way of what's really being offered in the moment. Lefty almost never talks about the mechanics of the swing. He relegates hitting the ball to secondary importance. He thinks such clichés as “keep your eye on the ball,” “timing,” and “following through” are as misleading as “when the student is ready…” Our talks are rarely about tennis, instead covering the events of the day or challenges we're facing. Yet, in this universe where all things are connected by zero degrees of separation, everything is about tennis. To Lefty—and me—the game of tennis is not isolated from the rest of our experiences. It is one pixel in the vast hologram of existence and, as such, a perfect metaphor for everything else in life.

Lefty has an extraordinary ability to hit balls with blinding speed. And, as with a skilled baseball pitcher, nothing in his body language lets you know whether it's going to be a slow curve or another blazing fastball. He hits every shot with the same smooth, graceful motion, honed over the past sixty-five years, that has always drawn envious admiration. Everyone wants to be able to emulate Lefty. I'm no different. Except I don't just want to hit a tennis ball like he does, I want to be able to live every part of my life as he does. If I can do that, the tennis will come on its own.

Recently, Lefty revealed the secret of his life-long philosophy, which is also what makes his tennis strokes so pure–just move straight through it. Don't be thrown by how hard or soft life's events come at you–just move straight through them. When the ball comes at you, meet it head on. Don't flick the wrist or jump out of the way. Don't flinch at the last moment or skip crucial parts of the swing. Don't panic or rush because you doubt your ability. Just move straight through it.

I knew that when I finally learned to move straight though the ball, everything about my life would change. I would come one step closer to being reliable like Lefty. I would discard my need to tiptoe around the beliefs and sensitivities of others, surrendering my power in the process. I would reclaim my true essence and find my unique voice, untainted by the need for consensus or approval. I, like Lefty, would have the courage to tell it like it really is.

Last night Lefty said I moved straight through about sixty balls. The difference was stunning: grace and confidence finally replaced fear and doubt. I'm very blessed to count such a remarkable being among my true friends, and value each moment we're together as a divine gift. I am ready, and the master has never been late. Not even once.

Jean-Claude Gerard Koven is a writer, speaker and featured weekly columnist for the United Press International’s Religion and Spirituality Forum. His book Going Deeper: How to Make Sense of Your Life When Your Life Makes No Sense, was selected by both Allbooks Reviews and USABookNews.com as the best metaphysical book of the year. Visit: www.goingdeeper.org.