Playing golf in my sleep
I blame Murray for making me start to play golf.
So I've been spending some time swinging away, sometimes successfully, sometimes less so. My driver, strangely enough, gives me no great joy: my success with it is just too erratic. When I connect solidly, the ball flies quite a way, when I don't, it doesn't, hobbling away rather akwardly to settle somewhat within range of a good throw with my strong arm.
Much more rewarding is my friend the 7-iron. I'm getting the ball up in the air, and more and more it's starting to fly off in the general direction I was aiming at.
But I'm in no way confident yet. When I address the ball, I'm starting to get the sneaky suspicion that the ball might eventually settle a long way from where I'm standing, but my last shot on Saturday proved just how fickle the imperfect golf swing can be. Divets can fly an embarrasingly great distance, sometimes outstripping the ball's flight by a large margin...
Now Willem, who has been showing the ropes, must have far more faith in his ability. Playing off a three-handicap, he can basically call his shot, perhaps not to perfection, but pretty close. And the guys (and girls) on TV: well, that's just not right how easy they make it look. How wonderful it must be to drop the ball within metres of the pin when that's where you aimed it. Years of practice must have contributed to the great confidence with which they approach their shots. 10 000 Hours, I saw on a video just the other day, is how long it takes to reach the height of your craft.
There's a story about a few men on a small boat on a lake. A storm struck, and while being skillful and confident in their ability, they knew their skill wasn't up to the challenge they were facing. Except for One of them, One with an entirely different skill set. While the storm was raging, He was at rest, perfectly confidently in His ability.
When they finally woke Him, he responded: "Why are you afraid? You have so little faith". Then, speaking a few words, he quieted the storm, and suddenly there was a great calm.
How it must be, being so confident, sleeping through the storm, knowing who you are, and what you are capable of.
"Who is this man?" the others asked.
So I've been spending some time swinging away, sometimes successfully, sometimes less so. My driver, strangely enough, gives me no great joy: my success with it is just too erratic. When I connect solidly, the ball flies quite a way, when I don't, it doesn't, hobbling away rather akwardly to settle somewhat within range of a good throw with my strong arm.
Much more rewarding is my friend the 7-iron. I'm getting the ball up in the air, and more and more it's starting to fly off in the general direction I was aiming at.
But I'm in no way confident yet. When I address the ball, I'm starting to get the sneaky suspicion that the ball might eventually settle a long way from where I'm standing, but my last shot on Saturday proved just how fickle the imperfect golf swing can be. Divets can fly an embarrasingly great distance, sometimes outstripping the ball's flight by a large margin...
Now Willem, who has been showing the ropes, must have far more faith in his ability. Playing off a three-handicap, he can basically call his shot, perhaps not to perfection, but pretty close. And the guys (and girls) on TV: well, that's just not right how easy they make it look. How wonderful it must be to drop the ball within metres of the pin when that's where you aimed it. Years of practice must have contributed to the great confidence with which they approach their shots. 10 000 Hours, I saw on a video just the other day, is how long it takes to reach the height of your craft.
There's a story about a few men on a small boat on a lake. A storm struck, and while being skillful and confident in their ability, they knew their skill wasn't up to the challenge they were facing. Except for One of them, One with an entirely different skill set. While the storm was raging, He was at rest, perfectly confidently in His ability.
When they finally woke Him, he responded: "Why are you afraid? You have so little faith". Then, speaking a few words, he quieted the storm, and suddenly there was a great calm.
How it must be, being so confident, sleeping through the storm, knowing who you are, and what you are capable of.
"Who is this man?" the others asked.
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