Chapter 13: Changing Habits - A New Way of Learning

The previous chapter may have given you some ideas about changes you would like to make in your tennis strokes. The aim of this chapter is to summarize the Inner Game method of how to effect such changes so that they become a spontaneous part of your behavior. Tips are a dime a dozen, and there are good ones and bad ones. But what is more difficult to come by is a workable way to apply tips, to replace one pattern of behavior with a new one. It is in the process of changing habits that most players experience the greatest difficulty. When one learns how to break a habit, it is a relatively simple matter to learn which ones to break. Once you learn how to learn, you have only to discover what is worth learning.

Summarized below is what could be called a new way of learning. Actually, it is not new at all; it is the oldest and most natural way of learning—simply a method of forgetting the unnatural ways of learning which we have accumulated. Why is it so easy for a child to pick up a foreign language? Primarily because he hasn't learned how to interfere with his own natural, untaught learning process. The Inner Game way of learning is a return to this childlike way. By the word "learning" I do not mean the collection of information, but the realization of something which actually changes one's behavior—either external behavior, such as a tennis stroke, or internal behavior, such as a pattern of thought.

We all develop characteristic patterns of acting and thinking, and each such pattern exists because it serves a function. The time for change comes when we realize that the same function could be served in a better way. Take the habit of rolling one's racket over after hitting a forehand. This behavior is an attempt to keep the ball from going out, and it exists to produce the desired result. But when the player realizes that by the proper use of topspin the ball can be kept in the court without the risks of error involved in a roll-over follow-through, then the old habit is ready to be dropped. It is much more difficult to break a habit when there is no adequate replacement for it. This difficulty often exists when we become moralistic about our tennis game. If a player reads in a book that it is wrong to roll his racket over, but is not offered a better way to keep the ball in the court, it will take a great deal of willpower to keep his racket flat when he's worried about the ball flying out of the court. As soon as this player gets into a game, you can be sure that he will revert to the stroke that gave some sense of security that his ball would not sail out.

The Groove of Habits

It is not helpful to condemn our present behavior patterns—in this case our present imperfect strokes—as "bad"; it is helpful to see what function these habits are serving, so that if we learn a better way to achieve the same end, we can do so. We never repeat any behavior which isn't serving some function or purpose. It is difficult to become aware of the function of any pattern of behavior while we are in the process of blaming ourselves for having a "bad habit." But when we stop trying to suppress or correct the habit, we can see the function it serves, and then an alternative pattern of behavior, which serves the same function better, emerges quite effortlessly.

One hears a lot of talk about grooving one's strokes in tennis. The theory is a simple one: every time you swing your racket in a certain way, you increase the probabilities that you will swing that way again. In this way patterns, called grooves, build up which have a predisposition to repeat themselves. Golfers use the same term. It is as if the nervous system were like a record disk. Every time an action is performed, a slight impression is made in the microscopic cells of the brain, just as a leaf blowing over a fine-grained beach of sand will leave its faint trace. When the same action is repeated, the groove is made slightly deeper. After many similar actions there is a more recognizable groove into which the needle of behavior seems to fall automatically. Then the behavior can be termed grooved.

Because these patterns are serving a function, the behavior is reinforced or rewarded and tends to continue. The deeper the groove in the nervous system, the harder it seems to be to break the habit. We have all had the experience of deciding that we will not hit a tennis ball a certain way again. For example, it would seem to be a simple matter to keep your eye on the ball once you understand the obvious benefits of doing so. But time and again we take our eye off it. Often, in fact, the harder we try to break a habit, the harder it becomes.

If you watch a player trying to correct the habit of rolling his racket over, he will usually be seen gritting his teeth and exerting all his willpower to get out of his old groove. Watch his racket. After it hits the ball it will begin to turn over, following the old pattern; then his muscles will tighten and force it to return to the flat position. You can see in the resulting waver exactly where the old habit was halted and the new willpower took over. Usually the battle is won only after a great deal of struggle and frustration over the course of some time.

It is a painful process to fight one's way out of a deep mental groove. It's like digging yourself out of a trench. But there is a natural and more childlike method. A child doesn't dig his way out of his old grooves; he simply starts new ones! The groove may be there, but you're not in it unless you put yourself there. If you think you are controlled by a bad habit, then you will feel you have to try to break it. A child doesn't have to break the habit of crawling, because he doesn't think he has a habit. He simply leaves it as he finds walking an easier way to get around.

Habits are statements about the past, and the past is gone. I'm not even sure it exists, since I don't experience it except as a memory or as a concept in the present. There may be a deep groove in the nervous system which will take your forehand on the rollover trip if you choose to step into that trench; on the other hand, your muscles are as capable as they ever were of swinging your racket through flat. There is no need to strain all the muscles in the arm to keep the racket flat; in fact, it requires fewer muscles to keep it flat than it does to roll it over. Fighting the fantasy of old habits is what causes the conscientious tennis player to strain and tighten unnecessarily.

In short, there is no need to fight old habits. Start new ones. It is the resisting of an old habit that puts you in that trench. Starting a new pattern is easy when done with childlike disregard for imagined difficulties. You can prove this to yourself by your own experience.

Here is a simple summary of the traditional way we have been taught to learn, contrasted with the Inner Game of learning. Experiment with this method and you will discover a workable way to make any desired change in your game.

Making a Change in Stroke, Step by Step

The Usual Way of Learning

Step 1: Criticize or Judge Past Behavior

Examples: I'm hitting my forehand rotten again today... Dammit, why do I keep missing those easy setups... I'm not doing anything the coach told me to do in my last lesson. You were great rallying, now you're playing worse than your grandmother... $%#C*#C$!

(The above is usually delivered in a punitive, belittling tone.)

Step 2: Tell Yourself to Change, Instructing with Word Commands Repeatedly

Examples: Keep your racket low, keep your racket low, keep your racket low. Hit the ball in front of you, in front, in front... No, dammit, further! Don't flick your wrist, keep it stiff... You stupid bum, you did it again... Toss the ball good and high this time, then reach up, remember to snap your wrist, and don't change grips in mid serve. Hit this one into the crosscourt corner. I'll try harder next time!

Step 3: Try Hard; Make Yourself Do It Right

In this step, Self 1, the ego-mind, having told Self 2 what to do, tries to control the action. Unnecessary body and facial muscles are used. There is a tightness which prevents maximum fluidity of stroke and precision of movement. Self 2 is not trusted.

Step 4: Critical Judgment about Results Leading to Repetition of Process

When one has tried hard to perform an action "right," it is difficult not to become either frustrated at failure or excited by success. Both these emotions are distracting to one's concentration, and prevent full experiencing of what happens. Negative judgment of the results of one's efforts tends to make one try even harder; positive evaluation tends to make one try to force oneself into the same pattern on the next shot. Both positive and negative thinking inhibit spontaneity.

The Inner Game Way of Learning

Step 1: Observe, Nonjudgmentally, Existing Behavior

Examples: The last three of my backhands landed long, by about two feet. My racket seems to be hesitating, instead of following through all the way. Maybe I should observe the level of my backswing... Yes, I thought so, it's well above my waist...

There, that shot got hit with more pace, yet it stayed in. (The above is delivered in an interested, somewhat detached tone.)

Step 2: Ask Yourself to Change, Programming with Image and Feel

No commands are used. Self 2 is asked to perform in the desired way to achieve the desired results. Self 2 is shown by use of visual image and felt action any element of stroke desired. If you wish the ball to go to the crosscourt corner, you simply imagine the necessary path of the ball to the target, and feed it into the computer as a problem to be solved. Do not try to correct for errors.

Step 3: Let it Happen!

Having requested your body to perform a certain action, give it the freedom to do it. The body is trusted, without the conscious control of mind. The serve seems to serve itself. Effort is initiated by Self 2, but there is no trying by Self 1. Letting it happen doesn't mean going limp; it means letting Self 2 use only the muscles necessary for the job. Nothing is forced; you flow as surely and powerfully as a river.

Step 4: Nonjudgmental, Calm Observation of the Results Leading to Continuing Observation of Process until Behavior Is in Automatic

Though the player knows his goal, he is not emotionally involved in achieving it and is therefore able to watch the results calmly and experience the process. By so doing, concentration is best achieved, as is learning at its highest rate of speed; reprogramming is only necessary when results do not conform to the image given. Otherwise only continuing observation of the behavior undergoing change is necessary. Watch it change; don't do the changing.

Step 4: Observation

As you are letting your serve itself, your job is simply to observe. Watch the process without exercising control over it. If you feel you want to help, don't. But don't watch with detached objectivity; watch with faith. Actively trust your body to respond to your programming. The more you can bring yourself to put trust in the natural process that is at work, the less you will tend to fall into the usual interfering patterns of trying hard, judging and thinking—and the frustration that inevitably follows.

During this process it is still important to have a certain lack of concern for where the ball is going. As you allow one element of a stroke to change, others will be affected. As you increase your wrist snap, you will alter your rhythm and timing. Initially this may result in inconsistency, but if you continue with the process, simply allowing the serve to serve itself while you remain attentive and patient, the other elements of the serve will make the needed adjustments.

Since power is a function of more than the wrist, after your snap is automatic you may want to let your attention shift to your toss, your balance or some other element. Observe these, program if necessary, and let it happen. Serve until you have reason to believe that a groove has been established. To test if the groove is there, serve a few balls with all your attention solely on the ball. Be engrossed in the seams of the ball as you throw the ball into the air so that you are sure that your mind is not telling your body what to do. If the serve is serving itself in the new manner, a groove has automatically been started.

The process is an incredibly simple one. The important thing is to experience it. Don't intellectualize it. See what it feels like to ask yourself to do something and let it happen without any conscious trying. For most people it is a surprising experience, and the results speak for themselves.

This method of learning can be practiced in most endeavors on or off the court. The more you let yourself perform free of control on the tennis court, the more confidence you tend to gain in the beautiful mechanism that is the human body. The more you trust it, the more capable it seems to become.

But there is one pitfall I should mention. I have noticed that after being thrilled by the improvements they are able to make in their tennis game by letting it happen, students often revert the next day to trying as hard as usual. What is surprising is that though they are playing much worse tennis, they don't seem to mind. At first this puzzled me. Why would one go back to letting Self 1 control the show if the results were so clearly less effective? I had to search myself for the answer. I realized that there was a distinctly different kind of satisfaction gained in the two methods of hitting the ball. When you try hard to hit the ball correctly, and it goes well, you get a certain kind of ego satisfaction. You feel that you are in control, that you are master of the situation. But when you simply allow the serve to serve itself, it doesn't seem as if you deserve the credit. It doesn't feel as if it were you who hit the ball. You tend to feel good about the ability of your body, and possibly even amazed by the results, but the credit and sense of personal accomplishment are replaced by another kind of satisfaction. If a person is out on the court mainly to satisfy the desires and doubts of ego, it is likely that in spite of the lesser results, he will choose to let Self 1 play the major role.

When a player experiences what it means to "let go" and allows Self 2 to play the game, not only do his shots tend to gain accuracy and power, but he feels an exhilarating sense of relaxation even during rapid movements. In an attempt to repeat this quality of performance, the player often allows Self 1 to creep back on the scene with a remark such as, "Now I've got the secret to this game; all I have to do is make myself relax." But of course the instant I try to make myself relax, true relaxation vanishes, and in its place is a strange phenomenon called "trying to relax." Relaxation happens only when allowed, never as a result of "trying" or "making." Self 1 should not be expected to give up its control all at once; it begins to find its proper role only as one progresses in the art of relaxed concentration.