As many people know, I spend a good amount of my time on the course. For most people the sport, and word golf conjures up a certain image or thought, probably not to descriptive about the game at all since that person does not obtain a substantial amount of knowledge of the game or what is involved in it. For me, I think it is an awesome thing to be descriptive about, especially since I have experienced things most people can never experience.
I think the word behind descriptive is passion. I believe that passion can lead further into various things for various people. For me, it helps me invoke deeper into the sport of golf.
From above, I am little. The vast area of a golf course is monumental compared to a player that decides to take this creature of nature on. It has been perfected by many brilliant minds, and to take it on by yourself, well lets just say it has been previously dubbed a crazed action. Preparation is a necessity. I take out a ball that has been previously hacked about, knowing by the grass and dirt stains that have given this once new ball a different shade. I become intertwined with the same elements as I put the ball in play, and vice versa. Dirt becomes embedded in my fingernails and palms. I all of a sudden am trying to blend in with the course, trying to become one so that I have a better chance of escaping its grip that tightens, as I tighten my own. My hands are frequently callused from the harsh, roped grip. I guess you can say the creature is vicious, yet, at times it is innocent with its lush greenery that decieves you of its once harsh qualities. A suggested early morning start can open you up to a different course and personality. The air is brisk and the ground soft and wet as the dew drops slowly evaporate to reveal whats under the skin. I still play whether I am afraid or not. It is a sport that gets as natural as it gets. The ball soaks up the morning dew as it inscribes a path into the young grass. The hole is simply a hole. An imperfection? Quite the opposite. It displays what you don't normally see. Fresh earth is something not noted by the casual glance. As I repeatedly reach into the hole, I notice the beauty of the land. Rich with life, the brown dirt suddenly sprouts into a small greenery which is treasured. It is funny that only the top of the land is wanted, and we invent solutions that are used to rid our lives of that brown natural source. To be clean? Maybe not. Sometimes it is a shame not to share commonalities with the course. I just hope that my connections could be experienced by the people that do not do the same as I. They probably do, of course in a different way. i wonder if the feeling is the same?
I think the word behind descriptive is passion. I believe that passion can lead further into various things for various people. For me, it helps me invoke deeper into the sport of golf.
From above, I am little. The vast area of a golf course is monumental compared to a player that decides to take this creature of nature on. It has been perfected by many brilliant minds, and to take it on by yourself, well lets just say it has been previously dubbed a crazed action. Preparation is a necessity. I take out a ball that has been previously hacked about, knowing by the grass and dirt stains that have given this once new ball a different shade. I become intertwined with the same elements as I put the ball in play, and vice versa. Dirt becomes embedded in my fingernails and palms. I all of a sudden am trying to blend in with the course, trying to become one so that I have a better chance of escaping its grip that tightens, as I tighten my own. My hands are frequently callused from the harsh, roped grip. I guess you can say the creature is vicious, yet, at times it is innocent with its lush greenery that decieves you of its once harsh qualities. A suggested early morning start can open you up to a different course and personality. The air is brisk and the ground soft and wet as the dew drops slowly evaporate to reveal whats under the skin. I still play whether I am afraid or not. It is a sport that gets as natural as it gets. The ball soaks up the morning dew as it inscribes a path into the young grass. The hole is simply a hole. An imperfection? Quite the opposite. It displays what you don't normally see. Fresh earth is something not noted by the casual glance. As I repeatedly reach into the hole, I notice the beauty of the land. Rich with life, the brown dirt suddenly sprouts into a small greenery which is treasured. It is funny that only the top of the land is wanted, and we invent solutions that are used to rid our lives of that brown natural source. To be clean? Maybe not. Sometimes it is a shame not to share commonalities with the course. I just hope that my connections could be experienced by the people that do not do the same as I. They probably do, of course in a different way. i wonder if the feeling is the same?
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