Essay+of+Place

eloucks H. American literature, P.3 15 February 2010 Land of Green

A good drive is a perfect appetizer, a warm handshake, an intriguing first page to a book. Just as this story begins with a single sentence, a good round of golf begins with a single stroke. The opening ceremony is not complex, but in fact is rather simple, yet the act itself could never be more challenging. A desire for advancement is a pre-requisite. Golf is so many things to me. It is a religion, a form of government. It is a game, and life itself. A golf course is a spectacle of untarnished nature—trees of brilliant sun-touched green and noble bark brown, grass of the softest caliber, ponds as still as space yet beautiful as bread to a starving man. At a golf course by myself, grass is the heart of it all. It's roots grow deep, in history, in dirt, and in me. Grass is the platform on which the game of golf is played. Without it there would be no gripping stances, no cool breaks from heat, no sport. I am a new golfer. I have only been "gripping and ripping" for 2 years, not even close to long enough, but my future is a bright prospect. I see green grass there.

I remember the first time I ever golfed. I was with my aunts in New Jersey. They decided because it was such a nice day we should do something outside rather than sit in front of an insipid television. While we driving out, I developed a sense of excitement. It was quite possibly one of the worst experiences of my life. It was far too difficult to hit that little ball with those little clubs, there were no trees (and this is New Jersey!),and it was too hot. The highlight of my entire trip was observing the carp in the pond. I now realize I may have been too young at the time, to appreciate the eloquent and complex yet simple game. Golf has a lot to do with patience, and patience has a lot to do with life. Although I may have detested my first golf experience, I knew under the right conditions there was a chance I could enjoy the game. I remember the first time I had fun golfing. I was back in Colorado and working at Columbine Country Club. It was a slow day and a bunch of caddies decided to go golf the Par 3 course. We picked up a few irons and walked over. I saw nature and people in harmony for the first time. The way polite conversation flowed encouraged a sense of serenity. The possibility seemed endless. I would make this sport my own. From then on I played when ever I could find the time. I continued caddying not just for the money (although that didn’t hurt) but for the pleasure of being outside. Golfing became my escape.

Now I stand here, driver in hand, looking out at the splendor of nature once more. Mirrors on the ceiling reflect the air below. An earthy aroma fills the air. I now walk in a party of four. Two of the other players are conversing on the topic of business. I converse quietly with myself, saying "they shouldn't bring their troubles to this place". Naturally, I agree with me. Golf is about communing with nature, learning, and just… being. There should be no reference to problems in a place created to forget them. Alas, the world remains imperfect, and what is and what should be remain two separate entities. I recompose myself. Thine Sword of Striking craves use. Pulling back to smite my brilliant white ball, a thought of failure passes through my mind… and my swing. The price of doubt is a steep one. My now scarred ball flies left into a lake. I laugh. Golf is the game of the clinically insane. It is meditation of the highest difficulty. A golfer opens each round attempting the impossible; perfecting an unpredictable game. It is precisely for this reason I now laugh, drawing the stares of my companions. That is the allure of the game. I am Adam to the Tree of Knowledge; pulled by desire, I wish nothing more than to taste the forbidden fruit, but God has other plans for me. The pursuit of impossible goals is not without any fruit. Just not the one I wish for. I may never receive a perfect score, but the challenge is something I can't deny myself. Unachievable goals spread their arms; a prelude to a hug. I know the only place I will ever feel at home lies within the clasp of impossibility. Am I a fool for running into that embrace? Probably, but I am certainly a golfer because of it.

Never has there been a game of more infinite option. Every course, shot, read, and day is different. Solitude sleeps in the simple complexity. Life is golf. You can never win, but you can have a moment to shine. Perfection is not in reach, but goals are plentiful. You can choose not to play, but you will still reside at the Course. These matches calm the mind. I sit now on a hill of my green grass, peering out at the plan of nature. I am faced with an impossible task, yet have never had less to worry about. After all, you can’t control everything.

(note: I couldn't find a way to indent. I tried for 30 minutes)