Golf is an Old Man's Game

An amazing day yesterday. It seemed I finally caught up with my body, I inhabited my space, felt completely alive, moment to moment. An odd, but completely cool feeling. The day was expansive. The Lovely Carla and I went to Invision for a "Sanctuary" Meditation. It was the right place, right time, right message. I have been wrestling with a problem, I have been trying to "think myself" out of it, to no avail, the more "thinking" I've done, the more confused I've become.

So, I just cleared it all out of my space. Let it all go. Afterward, we participated in a "psychic healing," and I was given this message: "you are stuck in indecision, you can access your original passion, which you knew when you were very (very, very) young."

I was reminded of this vision: I'm 12 or 13 years old. I'm all alone, I have a nine-iron in my hands, I'm hitting golf balls into a ravine. I would do this for hours (it was summer), hitting balls, chasing them down, hitting them again, etc. It was a time when I was usually alone. No friends, no one to confide in. I never really thought of myself as a 'golfer,' I just liked to hit the ball, watch it arc over the ravine, bounce on the ground, and roll.

Time was expansive. Afternoons seemed to extend out forever. I was alone, but not really lonely. I was happy to be alive, no more, no less. I gripped the club, wacked the ball, each time the ball carved out another invisible path in the air. I was there, alive, and nothing else.