Reflections from an Evening of Drop-In Volleyball

My 2020 word of the year is “play.” I always choose a verb because I want my word of the year to continually challenge me to stay in action. So, when I opened a piece of mail last month and saw that the local recreation center two blocks from my house was featuring drop-in volleyball on Tuesday nights, I immediately knew that I had to play. 

Never mind that the last time I played volleyball was more than 25 years ago in high school gym class. Never mind that I’ve never been a sporty lesbian, and the last time I played any organized sport was when I joined track and field senior year of high school because of a then unknown (and unrequited) crush on a girl named Sarah.

Reading that there was casual, drop-in volleyball a mere two blocks from my house on a weekly basis inspired me to play. 

Two nights ago, I played for the first time. The drop-in volleyball players were a microcosm of my diverse community 10 miles west of Chicago. There were 12 of us there to play, representing every generation. I didn’t expect to be a good player, but I did expect to have a good time. I certainly didn’t expect to have metaphors hitting me as furiously as the volleyballs. Bear with me as I reflect on some of the reminders and lessons that bubbled up from this one evening of casual drop-in volleyball. 

1. I didn’t think at all about my outfit so I showed up in yoga pants, a favorite t-shirt, and a hoodie. When I took off my hoodie, I looked down at my shirt and realized I’d unconsciously put on a tee that read “QUEER AF.” Whoops. Not knowing my audience and their awareness around the reclamation of “queer,” I immediately went to the bathroom and turned my tee inside out. I felt instantly inauthentic but pressed on. When I told my partner later, she was shocked that I turned my shirt, especially since she considers me the gayest person she knows. I guess even I am never really free from the lingering fear of rejection -- although inauthenticity may feel worse than rejection.
2. I quickly observed that the experienced players had the foresight to wear knee pads in order to prevent injury if they lunged or slid for a ball. On the other hand, I had no intention of lunging or sliding for the ball and therefore wasn’t wearing knee pads. No way was I going to risk injury. I only ever lunge like that if I feel safe, like when I go to trampoline parks with my kid and jump in the Foam Zone. In my professional work, how can I create my own Foam Zone so I can take bigger and more frequent lunges?
3. One of the veteran players asked me if I knew how to “set,” and since I don’t, they always arranged to have a more experienced player take my turn to set. At first, I was a little worried that this drop-in game of volleyball was not as casual as I had assumed and was about to become serious business, but then I felt grateful to have the pressure lifted. It turns out setting in front row center is a pretty important job. Sometimes it feels really good to let someone else take leadership and responsibility. It doesn’t come easily for me to let go like that. 
4. Keep your eye on the ball. Sounds obvious. Every time my mind drifted for even a second, I was brought back to reality with a ball whizzing at me, usually causing me to swing and miss. Yes, you can swing and miss a volleyball. Getting the ball over the net required me to be fully present, engaged in the moment, and alert to everything around me. It required me to be a good listener as other players yelled, “got it.” I’m more successful at everything I do – client work, relationships, family, and apparently volleyball -- when I’m present and a good listener.
5. I found that if the ball was close and I rushed to hit it, I often didn’t position myself properly and hit the ball into the net or out of bounds. When I took the extra second to slow down and get in position for a focused hit, it was usually in bounds. Sounds like real life. The more I rush, the more mistakes I make. I lost a big client last year because I was rushing. It was an expensive lesson, and a mistake I’ll never make again. I’m more successful when I slow down and take the time to see the whole picture.
6. With 30 minutes to go, several people left and the team sizes shrank to 3 players. Then I really started to work up a sweat, covering twice as much ground and actually having more fun. With 3 of us, sometimes we just couldn’t move fast enough, and there were a lot more balls hit out of bounds or missed entirely. I know when I try to cover a lot of ground by myself, or stretch myself too thin, I miss opportunities or don’t function as efficiently. Even it feels like I’m having ‘more fun’ at times when I’m covering twice as much ground, it helps to tap into other perspectives. I hit more winners when I don’t go it alone. 

My reflections didn’t end when volleyball did.  

I walked the two blocks to and from the rec center bundled up, in silence, and didn’t talk much to the other players during the game. In those few hours of relative silence, I gave my mind the space to be inspired and to create, and the metaphors flowed abundantly. In silence, without podcasts, YouTube, or even meaningful conversation, my brain was uncluttered. It was free. When I unplug and give my mind silence, whether it’s during a mundane task like shoveling snow, pulling weeds, or even running errands, the ideas flow. 

I think the same things happen when I play: playing puts me in motion and prevents me from feeding the nasty tendency to overthink; it brings joy, and it opens me up to possibilities. That’s probably the most important reminder from an evening of drop-in volleyball: playing unleashes my creativity. 

I may be QUEER AF, but I’m also playful AF, and next time I’m going to show up more authentically and see what other creativity emerges. 

Does any of this resonate with you? I would love to hear your thoughts.