I play a game of golf once a year. I’m not bad for only playing once a year, but let’s be honest I’m not great either.

I once took a golfing lesson from an Australian golf-pro in Vietnam so I know the basics of how to stand, swing, and stay focussed on the ball despite the distraction of the swing and the overriding desire to see where the ball went. Sounds easy right, but it’s actually a lot to remember, not to mention the addition of whatever other pointers your fellow players offer up to further clutter your brain– and trust me they always have advice!

Here are MY lessons gleaned from golf which oddly enough I think can also be applied to life:

Relax. Don’t Over-think.

Golf requires an awkward stance or at least one that does not come naturally: Feet so far apart, weight forward, knees slightly bent, shoulders relaxed, grip firm, little fingers interlocking (or not). It gets far too complicated to get it right – all at once anyway. And yet the times I relaxed into my swing and didn’t try to get everything perfect, to micro-manage by over-thinking … well, somehow that was the swing that connected with the ball and sent it flying down the fairway.

Practice Patience. Employ Forgiveness.

It’s easy to get frustrated when things don’t go right. And yet the times I forgave myself, not taking my grudges into the next stroke, I had a far better outcome then when I tried to make up for the last bad swing.

Don’t Try to Hard. Don’t Try to Impress.

I was playing with my step-father and his chums, all of whom are much better and far more practiced than I. The times I tried to keep up with them were the times I fell short because my focus was on their achievements and not my own.

Don’t Try and Kill the Ball.

Golf is not a game of brute force and I’m guessing life isn’t either. I’m a strong guy, something I thought would be my advantage against my competitors (see lesson above). Yet the times I tried to kill the ball usually led to missed swings that actually hurt my back and injured my pride. Golf is a game of finesse. Swinging from a place of quiet confidence and inner belief achieved far better results than attacking the situation with aggression.

Put your divots back.

As embarrassing as it is to seeing huge pieces of turf flying when it was supposed to be your golf ball soaring through the air, acknowledging those mistakes by righting wrongs and putting your divots back is part of making amends and moving on.

Don’t take your eye off the ball.

Sometimes in my enthusiasm to see how successful I’d been I’d take my eye of the ball and look to the future, forgetting to concentrate on the present. When I stayed focussed on the completion of the task at hand, letting my friends see where the ball went, that’s when I achieved stronger results.

Enjoy the Camaraderie of your Fellow Players.

Golf, like life, is a game best shared. While the challenge of the game might have brought you together it is the camaraderie of your fellow players that enhances the experience: a bad stroke becomes funny; a difficult shot is given additional support; while a great putt is doubly-celebrated.

Every Hole is a Fresh Opportunity.

Every hole offers the opportunity to apply the lessons learned and skills acquired from previous greens. Is this any different than having a bad morning but being determined to turn your day around in the afternoon? At the very least each new hole offers a fresh slate and new challenges to embrace and conquer.

Celebrate your Skills, Whatever They Are.

I discovered I have a keen eye and a straight stroke. Twice I managed, from an impressive distance, to actually hit the flag pole. The stubborn ball bounced off the pole and back onto the putting green instead of into the hole but I didn’t care, I was too excited by a new found skill and ability that I actually didn’t care about the outcome.

And finally ….

Forget About Measuring up to the ‘Pars’ For Each Hole (unless you’re that good!). Concentrate Instead on Just Having Fun.

This morning I learned to make a cake from a friend’s Italian mother.

She doesn’t speak English, but that didn’t stop her from sharing her enthusiasm with me her eager student. In fact it was much easier to communicate then you might think – and a lot of fun bridging the language barrier over an impromptu culinary class.  And, as an added bonus, I’ve walked away with this tasty (and easy) recipe.

Loredana’s Cake

This is a very easy cake to make because everything is measured by equal parts from the same container.

Then ….

1 x 150 gram container of vanilla yogurt  (you can use other flavours if you wish)

Then use the same yoghurt container (washed out) as a measure for the following ingredients:

2 x container of sugar

3 x container of flour

1 x container of vegetable oil

3 eggs

1 sachet of Lievito (yeast)

Grated lemon OR orange peel (your choice)

Mix all this together with a beater, then fold in 3 pared and cut apples (or other fruit of your choice), cinnamon, a little bit of cognac or rum.

Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius then lower to 150 degrees Celsius (or less depending your oven) before putting the cake mix in the oven. Leave in oven for 50-60 mins … less if needed, if you find the cake is rising too fast. (Tip: Put foil over the top of the cake if the top is getting too golden to protect it from burning while the rest of the cake catches up.)

Check with a toothpick to see if done. Then dust with icing sugar and serve. Yum!

… (and back again) in San Francisco.

In my quest to rollerblade every city I visit this year I pulled out my blades in San Francisco and discovered (surprisingly) that the city wasn’t the best for inline skating. No, not because of the hills – although they did limit the areas I could go – but because I couldn’t find any smooth road surfaces on my blade between the city’s two iconic bridges – the Bay Bridge and the Golden Gate – with the one exception of a short stretch of heavenly asphalt near Crissy Field.

That said I did see some interesting things along the way and compiled a handful of photos documenting the trip, including the (rather clever, if I do say so myself) self-portrait of my blades in action.

The photos can be viewed either individually (with captions) or as a slideshow by clicking on either link.

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Click here for a brief slideshow.

Experience #1634

I have never been a great singer. Or at least I had been told as much by others.

As a child my Mum was quick to point out my notes were flat. Then as a teenager my dear friend, ArtHistorian, didn’t help matters when, during what was supposed to be a confidence-boosting lesson, she  fell off the piano stool from laughing so hard at my heartfelt rendition of Singin’ in the Rain. (Love me some Gene Kelly!) Then more recently as an adult there were my KiwiBuddies who carried through on their threat to stop the car during a driving trip because I hadn’t heeded their warning to stop singing to the radio. I stopped singing and they pulled the car back onto the road.

And so I was left with a modest goal: to sing well enough to not annoy anyone. 

The first singing teacher I approached was OperaDiva. He nearly crushed my fragile confidence by telling me point blank after a couple of scales that I was a no-hoper without a chance. “Give it up now mate,” he said. And while his quick condemnation of my vocal abilities made for entertaining cocktail conversation later that evening with friends – my voice once again the butt end of the jokes – a mate suggested I try another teacher. Reluctantly I agreed.  

The difference was night to day. From the get-go my new confidence-inspiring SingingTeacher told me that everyone could sing – just that some, like me, had to work harder at it than others. The belief in me from another, however slight, was enough to swim against the tide of dissent I had experienced to date, even though I was slightly suspicious that she was just humouring me. 

And so I started weeky lessons with my SingingTeacher in her apartment. Working to tune, refine and get a better sense of what my voice was capable by addressing things like breathing, raising my palette, getting the optimum mouth shape etc. 

It wasn’t long before I discovered I could sing! Did you hear that all you naysayers? I COULD SING! I could hit notes. Sure I might have to concentrate a bit more than most people. Perhaps I would have to warm up more than normal. But I could sing. 

I started tackling songs. Songs that I loved, songs that inspired. I went back and celebrated Gene Kelly’s Singin’ in the Rain, by nailing, then owning it. I even tackled ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ … long before Susan Boyle had us all weeping for the underdog making good. 

There were times when my busy days left little room for an indulgent singing lesson. Or a bad mood had me second guessing whether I should even go. But I had made a commitment to my SingingTeacher and to myself, so despite the extra effort it took I always made it to my lesson prepared and on time. What amazed me was that I was always rewarded by a lighter mood upon leaving my lesson. I actually felt better after every lesson. Always. 

So good in fact that I would sing loudly and joyously on my bicycle ride home (I figured passersby wouldn’t get too much of an earful if I was speeding by.) Letting the air rush over my vocal chords and making a noise that didn’t scare people (and me) was too addictive to not indulge in. It was incredibly freeing. 

People would constantly ask me why I was taking singing lessons. What did I want to do with them now that I could sing? And for someone like my often too goal-orientated self it wouldn’t have been easy for me to try and qualify my investment and attach a goal to it. But for the first time in my life I did something without a goal, without an underlying aspiration. Simply because I enjoyed it. 

No, I didn’t want to sing in front of anyone (and shyly I still don’t). No I wasn’t looking to get on stage. I was singing purely for myself. Purely for the fun of it. 

I don’t take lessons anymore. But I still sing. I can manage the radio and not be offensive (but I have to concentrate). Most recently I climbed Sugarloaf mountain in Rio de Janeiro (but that’s another story) …. and halfway up the mountain, with a view across the bay and the mountains beyond I plugged in my iPod and sung loudly to my favourite songs. Was it noise pollution? Possibly. Did I care? No. I was singing for me, for the pure unadulterated joy of it. 

To do or not to do? There is no question!: Ever had a hankering to take up a new hobby for no other reason than you’ve always wanted to do it? Can you find a spare hour once a week for this investment in ‘me’ time? I’ll bet you’ll be glad you did.  

What have you done recently without rhyme, reason or goals – simply for the joy it brings you?

 
Recently I was reminded of the local talent that exists within in each of our towns, of people participating in the arts not for fame or fortune or some greater goal than simply expressing themselves in their spare time – I was mesmorized by the Vancouver Cantanta Singers.