How Ice Hockey, Freestyle Skating, and Ancient Zamboni Wisdom Reveal Life’s Secrets

There’s something mesmerizing about watching a Zamboni machine at work. The slow, methodical resurfacing of the ice during intermission—like a diligent monk on wheels—turns a jagged, scarred battlefield back into a glistening sheet of glass.

It’s hypnotic, peaceful even, as if the machine were practicing its own quiet meditation.

When I played ice hockey as a kid, that Zamboni intermission was both a pause and a promise: the next period would start fresh. Years later, during my season ticket days watching the Colorado Avalanche, I’d sit back, sip a lukewarm beer, and let the Zamboni do its magic—appreciating its quiet life lessons.

Freestyle ice skating remains my personal sanctuary. I can’t explain it fully, but when I hit the ice, I feel weightless and free. There’s something about carving edges, gliding forward, then backward, that allows me to disappear into a flow state.

Hockey?

That was a more chaotic, bruising affair. As a youth, I played with the kind of reckless abandon that only comes with being young and unaware of your knees’ long-term importance. In hindsight, hockey wasn’t just a sport—it was Taoist philosophy on blades.

Now that I’ve spent years steeped in Zhuangzi, Lao Tzu, and the I Ching, I realize something profound: life, much like hockey, is a series of periods—marked by bruises, victories, and sudden plot twists.

And then… the Zamboni comes. It clears the ice. It smooths over the rough patches, wiping away the evidence of past collisions. This, my friends, is a masterclass in Taoism.

So how would the sages of Taoism—Lao Tzu and Zhuangzi—view our beloved Zamboni? Let’s consult the cosmic ice rink of life and find out.

🏒 The Zamboni Always Returns (Wu Wei in Action)

Lao Tzu taught us the principle of wu wei, or non-doing—acting in harmony with nature rather than forcing outcomes. The Zamboni embodies wu wei. It doesn’t force the ice into submission; it simply glides across, adding water and smoothing as it goes. It accepts the roughness and gently restores balance.

Life Lesson: In moments of chaos or conflict, don’t fight fire with fire. Be the Zamboni. Glide through difficulty with steady, unhurried action, trusting that clarity will come. Life’s rough spots don’t need to be forced away; they just need a little smoothing over.

🏒 Clearing the Ice Doesn’t Erase the Game (Embrace Impermanence)

Zhuangzi would likely chuckle at those who think the Zamboni erases what happened on the ice. “No,” he’d say, “the game lives on in the players, the audience, and the skates’ memories.”

Likewise, our lives are full of scars and missteps, but the resurfacing doesn’t erase our story—it prepares us for what’s next.

Life Lesson: Stop trying to erase your mistakes. Instead, learn to resurface and keep going. The Zamboni of your soul doesn’t wipe away who you are—it simply makes the next chapter smoother.

🏒 Skating on Fresh Ice Feels Like a New Beginning

There’s a certain beauty in stepping onto freshly resurfaced ice. It’s clean, quiet, and filled with potential. Zhuangzi might remind us that life’s moments of renewal are equally precious: the dawn of a new day, a deep breath after an argument, or the feeling of starting fresh after letting go.

Life Lesson: Seek small moments of renewal. Pause. Breathe. Resurface your internal ice and give yourself a fresh surface to skate on.

🏒 The Zamboni Is Slow for a Reason (Patience and Flow)

Hockey is fast. Skating is graceful. But the Zamboni? It takes its sweet time. If it rushed, it would leave the ice patchy, incomplete. Lao Tzu would approve: “Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”

Life Lesson: Stop rushing your Zamboni. When life feels chaotic, slow down and let your inner resurfacing happen fully. Patchy solutions never hold up in the next period.

🏒 Trust the Next Period (Consulting the I Ching: Hexagram 24 – Return)

The I Ching, that wise and ancient text, offers insight through Hexagram 24—“Return.” It symbolizes a time for turning inward, reflecting, and starting anew. The Zamboni’s job is precisely that: returning the ice to its original state, ready for another period of play.

Life Lesson: If you’ve been battered, take time to return to your center. Trust that the flow of life, like the ice rink, will carry you forward once again. After all, the next period is where legends are made.

How to Be the Zamboni, Not the Puck

As a kid, I wanted to score goals. As an adult freestyle skater, I crave flow. But now? I aspire to be the Zamboni. In a world where everyone’s fighting to be the puck—bouncing between agendas, slammed by sticks, chasing outcomes—I’ve learned that wisdom lies in slowing down, clearing the surface, and trusting the game to continue.

The ice of life will always get rough. But remember this: there’s always a Zamboni moment on the horizon. Whether you’re nursing bruises, embracing victories, or gliding into a new chapter, take a cue from Lao Tzu, Zhuangzi, and the sages: resurface, reflect, and return.

And who knows? Maybe the next period will be your greatest yet.

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Much Love,

Diamond Michael Scott — aka The Chocolate Taoist