Skiing knowledge has three elements: the subject who knows -the skier-, the act of knowing -skiing-, and the object or thing to know -the ski technique-. If we only focus on avoiding falling, we will never achieve the state of flow, the true skiing knowledge. On the other hand, if we believe that the ability to ski is limited to gliding swiftly, then it also encompasses the ability to just “go down”, but the real aptitude to ski involves achieving an efficient performance.
A valuable skiing knowledge is the ski technique, the tekné. The professional skier knows which means are suitable for skiing as desired and can teach this knowledge. Unlike an experienced skier, who knows just the what, the skier of the tekné knows the why, that is to say the cause.
It is feasible to affirm that to know how to ski is to know how to grasp the essence of skiing, and in order to do so, we must sometimes doubt because, as nothing immutable exists in skiing, our certainty will be in the ability to move with balance in uncertainty.
There is no such thing as good or bad skiing: there is an efficient and a non-efficient one, and the negative side of the latter is the excesses, what is left over, what is too much.
No one skis poorly on purpose. Poor skiing comes from ignorance, from lack of wisdom, from not knowing how to do or not knowing the correct skiing. According to numerous definitions, wisdom pertains to discerning the right and wrong.
The majority of skiers who exhibit poor skiing skills are unaware of this. Despite being cognizant of and accepting the label of ‘poor’ skiing, they persist without seeking to comprehend the reason behind it. If they fail to comprehend it, they will be unable to recognize the next time they make a mistake, or worse, the same mistake. Skiing without understanding is to repeat the same mistakes. The philosophy of Marcoaurelian suggests that in such circumstances, we have two options: rectify our inadequate skiing or endure it.
The challenge with skiing is trying to stay in balance, while controlling the speed and the direction of our skis, letting gravity do its job, not resisting but letting go. Knowing how to ski is about flowing with gravity, not opposing it because ultimately, physics wins.
In most sports, the cause of movement is intrinsic, i.e., the use of muscular effort. However, in skiing, the primary cause is extrinsic, i.e., gravity. It is important to understand that skiing is not doing anything in excess, but letting go. When we overcome the transition from doing something to letting go, we will reach the state of flow. But, in this situation, should we ‘drive’ our skis or let them drive us? When skiing, sometimes we are ‘drivers’ and sometimes ‘passengers’. According to this reasoning, gravity is our engine, but also our adversary.
When skiing, we seem to experience the paradox of releasing our grip at the beginning of the turn in order to take advantage of gravity and having to hold it back at the end in order to control the same gravity that allowed us to initiate the turn.
In reality, there is no such contradiction; rather, there exists a continuous chain of forces, energies, spaces, sensations, and ideas along a permanent series of turns. Ultimately, skiing wisdom lies in knowing how to find the inflection point, which is the exact moment when we end one turn and begin the next.
Continuing with this subject, we should ask ourselves who is wise in skiing. The wise skier is not the individual who possesses knowledge about skiing, but rather the one who possesses the ability to master himself.
We are wise skiers if we find something to learn from every situation and every person, if we are amazed by everything, and if we enjoy skiing in the here and now moment. And, who is the wisest? We could conclude that the wisest skier is the happy skier, but who is happy skiing? Happy is the skier who achieves self-actualization. Aristotle was asked how to be happy without relying on others, and his answer was “without others.” Now, can we be happy skiing without others?
As a final reflection on the wisdom of skiing, sometimes we have the impression that we are getting ‘old’ skiing, even though we are still the same age. Is it because we have stopped being ourselves skiing, that we became solitary skiers?
Actually, we are not getting old, but wise, because we discontinue skiing the way others like, and we cease seeking acceptance from others in order to accept ourselves skiing. Thus, we become wise skiers, assertive and selective of slopes and people, habits and fashions. We end idealizing our skiing and begin skiing it, becoming more prudent, abandoning reactions that teach us nothing, and learning to cultivate safer skiing habits.
Furthermore, we observe in our slowness the clumsiness of others’ haste, consequently, we are not skiing ‘aged’; we are skiing what we are really interested in skiing.
