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| Bungee golf, I affectionately call my adaptive game…for I do not go onto the course in stylish polo shirts with matching vests. I could…but my clothing is never noticed. For I have my own way of stylin`, on the links…in my bright yellow harness and green straps and black bungee and silver carabiners connecting me to my power chair. My outfit is completed by wrist supports and Velcro gloves…which connect me to my golf club…sometimes for longer than I choose…if my "caddy" goes off before detaching club from glove. But other than that final detail, of releasing my club from my glove independently, my equipment works. So this summer I can work on my swing. |
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| Adapted golf, bungee golf…allows exceptions to the rules. Jumbo golf tees and teeing every shot is permitted in this version of the game. And so it was my way…to use this exception. There was a young man…a golf pro…who watched me labor on my swing of the club the first day of my golf season. Then came over and told me…"You`re too good to use this big tee…you don`t need to tee every shot." No one abled, and not associated with the medical community had told me…in years…that I was "good" at any sport or physical endeavor. No one, doctor, physical therapist, friend…had used the words "too good", in relationship to my abilities, ever…in the past few years; at least not that I had heard. And so with some wonder I looked at this young man and I smiled. But I do not know that he knew how my heart laughed. I doubt he did…how would he know. And, that is too bad…people should know how simple words, that are sincere…can make another`s spirit soar. |
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| The young man spent the better part of a morning with me, convincing me that I could use a tee…a regular, small tee. He used words, easy and consistent words that my brain could understand, although he had no knowledge that in learning or re-learning skills I often do not comprehend the directions given. And although he had no knowledge of my difficulty perceiving what I cannot see…he did all the tasks necessary…so I could visualize where the club should come to connect with the ball. "Look, look here at the tee.", he would tell me calmly and certain. He held my club…just above the head…and guided it through the arc to connect with the tee. Over and over…until the pattern came to my brain and went out to my arms. "Now look", he said quietly, "here is the tee. Look at it. Look hard. I will put the ball on it…but you must know that the tee is still there." And so I would watch the tee. And he would place the ball on the colored, small piece of wood…and then take it off…and then place it again…always with his words to remind me to look and remember the tee was there…even if I could not see it. And we repeated this and the swing of the club, with his guidance over, over, over. And then he backed away. And I remembered the tee was there…and the clubface hit…the ball flew…and I jumped up and down, at least in my heart…and the man said, "That`s it. Perfect." And I leaped…at least in my heart. Perfect? Had he used the word "perfect"? |
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| In what seems another lifetime, I could master a sport well enough to enjoy…to know without being told that I had moments of perfection…the perfect run, the perfect bike ride, the perfect catch, the perfect ski, the perfect sail. Perfect does not come often in sport. But in that other lifetime…in the small moments it did, no one had to tell me, for I just knew. But now, in this lifetime… there is no perfect in my physical abilities. But he used the word "perfect". And my mind registered this word. And I said to this young pro…"Lets hit another." And I did. "That`s it!" he exclaimed. And my spirit, well it exclaimed too. |
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| "Five good shots before I quit." I said to the man. And he smiled and my friend with me laughed. And the pro placed the small tee and then the ball. Snap. Snap. Snap. This was the retort…the club meeting ball…moving it into the air. Snap…it`s a sound, a crack, a ping that you hear and know, in golf, it is the sound of a ball hitting the face of the club in just the right spot. At ball number four or sometimes three…a dull pop. Not the sound…no flight to the ball. "It`s okay", he would say, "getting five good shots, that`s difficult, even for Tiger Woods. You are doing fine." |
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| I am doing fine? A golf pro said I am doing fine? Somewhere my mind heard those words, and sent the message to my heart… and my spirit to achieve came back to life. I do not want fine…I want perfect. So, I looked at the pro then said "Five in a row." And he shook his head and we laughed. He ran to get more balls. |
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| The process repeated…snap, snap, pop…start again. Time to meet and discuss adaptations…the director of this day said. "FIVE in a row." I said. The young pro said, "I don`t want you to get in trouble." I knew that I wouldn`t. "FIVE IN A ROW." I stated. And we began again. He reminded me…the tee…see it…sweep it. Snap. Snap. Snap. Pop. |
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| Time to join the group he suggested. For now some who helped me first realize that I could participate in the sport of golf had come to our spot. And I looked at them. And I looked at my club. And I looked at the tee. And I could feel…on the inside…a concentration, a thrill, a desire…to accomplish a goal. A determination I had thought I had lost. |
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| "FIVE IN A ROW." I said looking at the young pro. He looked to the small group around us and they nodded indicating it was okay. And that was all right…but I knew that for the first time in many, many months, maybe years…I would have ignored them if they had said otherwise. In that moment, I felt an edge of confidence I had thought lost forever. "FIVE. IN. A. ROW." I said with a laugh and with determination. |
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| The young man got the balls. He held them up to me…all in one hand…and he said, "This is it. The pressure is on. Ready?" And I said, "YES!" Ball number one went down…swing…pop. Before I could speak the man stated, "I knew you`d be nervous with the first one. And, we had stopped for a few minutes to talk…I thought you would need ONE practice shot. So, I brought six balls." Laughter…from me, from the pro, from my friend, from the small group. |
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| "The tee is there. Even when you cannot see it. Sweep the tee." The man spoke the words. The words went through my head as I leaned into the harness allowing it to support me. My gloved hands hooked to Velcro of the club grip. I took a breath…in through my nose…out through my mouth. I released the tension in my shoulders, neck and arm. (And briefly thought…of the relaxation tape listened to throughout the winter. Proving beneficial here on the course…who would have thought that!) |
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| "The tee is there. Even if you cannot see it. Sweep the tee." The club went back…and came though. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. "PERFECT!!" he said. "WOW!" the small group said. And I? I raised my arms as high as I could… club still attached to my hands…and I smiled…and I said, "YES!" |
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| And my heart and my soul? They silently said thank you, to those who got me through a long winter and longer spring…to those who got me through the long last two years…to those who got me to this moment, on this driving range. My heart and my soul? They rejoiced…for they felt enthusiasm, and determination…and those had been their missing pieces for so long. |
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| The remainder of that day passed joyfully. And a few days later I returned to the course for play …and each time I swung the club I tried hard to follow the words of the pro. I used a small tee…and played without one …other than the drive at the beginning of each hole. I played with the small tee…and played without a tee…even though "pop" was heard more than "snap". I doubted myself at times…and had to fight the urge to tee the ball up on the fairways and to use the jumbo tee. The pro was not there. He would not know if I played the course without teeing each ball, or know which tee I used. But he said I was "too good" to use jumbo tees…and to tee the ball each time. And so…my resolve to achieve remained as did my eagerness to try…hopeful that the next shot would be the one that was perfect. Or good. Or at least better than the last. And for that determination and enthusiasm I celebrated. |
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| And, I decided I would go back to the golf pro to learn more. And we worked together and worked hard. On seeing the tee…and on believing it was there even though I could not see it when the ball covered it. And then the focus changed…on believing I could move the ball without the tee. The young pro told me…to see the tee in my mind…now even when it is not there. And he told me that if I could see the tee and swing as though it was there…well then I would hit the ball easily…each time. And he repeated the words…and I would swing. Snap. Pop. Pop. And he would repeat, "You have to believe the tee is there, even when it is not." |
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| Pop. Pop. |
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| So, he told me we would try from the tee again. And I watched him put the tee down with the ball and move his hand away. Then I leaned into my harness. Breath. Relax. Believe. Swing. Snap. "Where`s the tee?" I asked. "I never put it in the ground" he said, "I hid it in my hand and left only the ball." I looked at him. "You believed the tee was there…and so you had the good hit. You do not need the tee…you only have to believe…that the tee is there…and that you are good enough to golf without the tee." I did not reply. |
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| "Five?" he asked. |
| "Five." I replied. |
| "Believe." he said. |
| "Believe." I replied. |
| Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap. |
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| This summer…wearing my yellow bungee golf attire…I am learning the impact of words…"too good"…"perfect"…"believe". I should be certain to tell these…in earnestness…to someone. So that their sprit may soar. |
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| This summer…I was wondering, fearfully…if my heart would ever know of perseverance and zeal again. I was wondering, anxiously…if my sprit would ever launch into flight again. If my heart and spirit would ever know again, the certain joy, which comes from deep within our self…from our core, our soul, when we know we have tried hard, done our best and so, succeeded. |
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| This summer in yellow and green straps and gleaming silver carbiners…I rediscovered, on the golf course…determination, and enthusiasm. I know, intuitively, that this summer I will strive to achieve a goal…see the tee, believe it is always there. And somehow, because there is something I can reach for, strive for…I can laugh. Maybe because now, I realize…that I still know hope. And hope…well it allows my spirit to soar. |
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| For some it may seem silly…a swing of a golf club can result in all this? To those who doubt I say, "Yes, it can! I know so!" I know so because I wear an anything but an inconspicuous yellow bungee golfing outfit onto a golf course…and disregard the looks of strangers…so I can improve my game. And if not for my determination to improve my swing, my game…I would not have the confidence to be among those in their polos and sweaters and golf shoes. |
| I know so because I can now laugh at myself…in my harness and straps and rubber cords…a genuine laugh, not a self-conscious giggle. And I know that is confidence renewed…because at least one stranger saw past the gear…and did not say I was good enough…but said I was "too good". And I understood it did not mean I was the best, it meant only that I must challenge myself…work to be better. This summer golf is teaching me there is a way to reach a goal…it may not be a conventional way…but there is always a way. Yes! A swing of a golf club can result in all this. |
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| I still understand that perfection does not come often in sport. I know that golf is a game that never knows perfection. My game will not rival the golf greats. That does not matter. Because I do know that each time I attach the club to my hand…there is the chance, with hard work, and determination…of having a perfect swing. A perfect shot. The first perfect game. |
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| My hope, this summer…is in the confidence, and the laughter, that I know comes from within my heart. My hope, this summer…is in a spirit that launches when my golf club is on my hand. My hope this summer…is that the confidence...the laughter…the spirit that is finding wings… will carry from the golf course to my life course. For confidence and laughter and a soaring spirit make the fairways of life joyful…and the roughs easier to rumble through. |
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| From spring and winter, I came to this summer, careworn and battling to understand what I cannot see… cognitively…and also with my soul. I struggle to keep my faith. Lessons are given in surprising places. |
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| This summer, styling`, in my yellow bungee golf-wear… I am learning that if I believe the tee is there…and direct my swing to sweep that unseen tee…the clubface will connect with the ball…snap…perfect. |
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| This summer I am learning that golf can teach us…unknowingly…of faith. If I can only believe a Greater Power is always there…and direct my hopes and fears to that unseen Power…my heart and soul will connect with grace…snap…perfect. |
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| Summer Speaking |
| Jeanne Esch July, 2002 |
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| The past days have spoke summer. There have been few clouds. Less rain. Mostly sun with varying amounts of heat and humidity. Small community baseball fields are filled, afternoons and evenings, with clattering bats, cracking balls, shouts of encouragement and smattered cheers. Sprinklers in backyards squirt, more to water children than lawns, which are in various stages of green. Ice cream stores are surrounded with sweat, grins, dripping sweetness, as all ages come to taste summer. Adults…clad in shorts and favorite tee shirts…follow children on small, shaky bikes, or tag a sweating dog, on quiet evening strolls. Pieces of their conversations can be heard though not understood through open windows or from canvas and wood chairs surrounded by flowers and the gentle clutter that is summer on a patio. And the sun-filled days fade into nights, which cry out to the planet, "Stop. See what is about you." And anyone who listens to the skies…can find a constellation, or a falling star, or a moonbeam to wish upon. |
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| Summer, speaking, invites all to its party. Dance in the sun. Cool in the waters. Laugh in the colors. Dream in the night. And most go to the party…staying various lengths of time. Some for a week-end, some for weeks, some, longing to celebrate…but obligated to air condition offices, or steamy work sites…and committed to worthy choices…come and go from the revelry…always reluctant to leave, always appreciative of the moments they can spend with the celebrant. |
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| Summer speaks of, or rather is…deep breaths. Even when responsibility requires we stay with a routine, summer finds a way to change our breathing pattern. And so, there are warm day times we exhale. And upon exhalation we find time…to re-read a loved book or have lunch in the park with a long-time friend. And upon inhalation we find physical energy…to challenge ourselves or, to renew old skills…perhaps practice with a tennis racket, or longer bicycle rides, or improving the flight of a fishing line, or golf ball. |
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| I have talked back to summer in the most recent years. I have talked back to summer this year. Telling it, while I appreciate its invitation, I don`t know what to bring to its party. Telling it while I understand it is offering deep breaths, I don`t know how to breathe…and no, thanks for the offer of showing me how to breathe, but I`ll just hold my breath. But summer does not keep a grudge. Its invitations come yearly. Daily if it thinks necessary. And it finds ways to bump one into exhaling. And so it has done to me. |
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| Summer this year has brought me a long and drawn out release of air. And while there are days that I seem to find it necessary to gulp air, thinking I will suffocate if I don`t inhale; right now. Summer is unwearied, and assuring. Telling me over and over, wait, learn, know…gulps of air will not help. Summer tells me it is a slower, more patient breathing pattern I must discover…if I am to find my way. And when I ignore summer, looking at it with some contempt…choosing not to hear it speaking…it determines to show me. |
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| Yesterday, as I would imagine hundreds of thousands of other humans did, on this warm Saturday…I pulled on the uniform of summer. Shorts. Shirt. Sneakers. I drove to a golf course. I got out of the van. And then my summer garb took on its unique panache. I draped straps over my shoulders. Buckled straps around my legs. Tape went onto my wrists. Gloves covered in fuzzy loops over my hands. A black rubber cord attached to the buckle of the bands surrounding me, to a metal loop on a wheelchair. And a young man hooked a cloth leash to a steel loop on the back of my strapped outfit…connecting me to the base of the chair…solidly, reassuringly. With some familiarity I took a golf club, its grip covered in the scratchy hooks, the opposite of my gloves, connected to my hand. And I smiled. |
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| Summer`s patience had gotten me to this place. Where I am almost able to prepare for my golf lesson independently. Only a few more modifications to my gear and I will be, in my way, completely independent. And this involved the assistance of many and so is no small feat! Thus my outfit was a part of my smile this day. And my light mood increased…because I was going to a golf lesson on my own. And that was the best! To me…it signifies that I am dancing…at summer`s party, participating rather than watching. Golf was, I presume, merely the method that summer used to entice me…to teach me to play…challenge, sweat, laugh. But because golf is tangible…I hold to it eager to achieve at the sport. It is a challenge I can define…thus understand. The abstract lessons of life…the rules of the summer…the practice of breathing…seem so difficult…sometimes, too hard. |
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| And so, it was that I enthusiastically moved toward the driving range of the golf course to learn more of sweeping tees, moving clubs, giving flight to small round balls. And so it was that summer stuck its foot out…tripping me…so I would catch my breath…and remember the exhalation should be slow…and long…and paced. |
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| A couple…man, woman…walked to their car carrying clubs of various lengths and lofts. Their golf shoes still on, the spikes tinged quietly against the black parking lot pavement. A contrast to the quiet whir of the motor on my chair, and the sucking almost slurpy sound of my rubber tires on the hot blacktop. They slowed as they approached me. They looked. I smiled. They inquired. About my chic garb…why? Why all this they asked. I explained. And they looked to one another and then to me and stated, almost simultaneously…"Can't imagine wanting to do anything so badly as to go to this much trouble. Even golf can't be worth it." |
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| I did not respond. I only looked. And casually shrugged my shoulders. And said something, quietly, to the effect of needing to get going to my lesson, and hoping that they had had a good game. And I went on. The driving range. Balls. Tees. The pro. Casual opening conversation. He helped me to stand. My second hand attached to the club. I swung. I listened. I swung. The ball moved. "Good." Lesson. I swung. The ball moved. "Perfect!" I heard the words of the lesson. I celebrated the words of the pro. |
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| And somewhere in my head I heard "Can`t imagine wanting to do anything so badly as to go to this much trouble. Even golf can`t be worth it." I shook my head. And attended to the lesson. Not every shot is perfect. Explanations. Swing. The ball flies. New explanations. Try this. Swing. "Not perfect." "Not even good!" I say. "Try again…remember…" the pro said. Swing. The ball flies again. Consistency would be a good thing, we laugh…the pro and I. |
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| Then I paused for a moment and looked at the young man teaching me and said, "I don`t know how to tell you, how much I want to get better at this game." And silently I heard the words again…"Can't imagine wanting to do anything so badly as to go to this much trouble. Even golf can't be worth it." |
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| The young pro…looked back at me. He is not afraid to look me in the eye. And he said, "You`re doing well. Not every shot will be your best." He had told me this before. |
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| I looked back at him and said, "But I want every shot to be good. Best." |
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| He moved the club he held in his hand. Took a light swing. Looked back at me and said, calmly…essentially, "It`s all a game. It is not worth getting frustrated over the bad shots. It`s playing the game that is important. You have to know, there are no bad shots. You will learn something from each swing. From the flight of each ball. You learn from each swing…each shot…if you are aware. You evaluate the swing. What did you do that was right? What was wrong? How do you correct it? Then you take your club and try again. There are no bad shots…how can there be, if you always learn? There are no bad shots…you learn every time you try. Remember that." |
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| I looked back and restated what he said. To make sense of it. To know that I heard him, understood him. "You learn every time you try…if you never swing, never try, you never learn." |
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| "Yep", he said. |
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| "There are no bad shots." I said. |
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| "Not if you evaluate each one. Don`t get frustrated. Evaluate and try again…to do better." he said. |
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| "There are no bad shots. Evaluate. Try again…to do better." I said. |
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| "Yep." He said. |
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| And my mind said, "Does this guy know the lessons of life he is teaching me?" |
| "How did he come to be in my life?" |
| "How did this summer know that I would need golf to learn?" |
| "Some would tell me it is not a coincidence. Are they right?" |
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| And then the man and the woman…their words…"Can't imagine wanting to do anything so badly as to go to this much trouble. Even golf can't be worth it." |
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| I threw aside these thoughts…but my brain held them. And now words come back to me. |
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| "Can't imagine wanting to do anything so badly as to go to this much trouble. Even golf can't be worth it." |
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| Do they know that I am haunted by their words? |
| Do they know the lessons that can be learned on a golf course? |
| Do they know the lessons of the summer? |
| Did I realize, before having to go to "this much trouble"…all that I must learn? |
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| "There are no bad shots…evaluate…swing again, try again…to do better." |
| If you never swing, never try…you never learn. |
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| "Can't imagine wanting to do anything so badly as to go to this much trouble. Even golf can't be worth it." |
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| Do they know their words make me wonder…will I remember the lessons of golf…the lessons of summer…away from the course? |
| "There are no bad shots." |
| "You learn every time you try." |
| If you never try, you never learn. |
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| Golf is tangible… a challenge I can define… abstract lessons of life…the rules of the summer…the practice of breathing…seem so difficult…sometimes, too hard. Perhaps these words came to soon. Is golf teaching me the vague lessons of life? |
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| Breathe…out…slowly…in calmly. |
| Easier knowing there are no bad shots? Possibly. |
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| "Can't imagine wanting to do anything so badly as to go to this much trouble. Even golf can't be worth it." |
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| Do they know how their words float to my consciousness? |
| If there is nothing in your life worth the trouble…where is the joy? |
| I cry, sometimes scream…frustrated…because I think my life holds no joy. |
| I am crying and screaming for the wrong reason. |
| I should cry… in sorrow…for those who do not realize all in life, which is "worth the trouble". |
| I should scream in joy…because I know that my life holds many things "worth the trouble". |
| I should cry thankful tears… celebrating those who have taught me to realize what, in my life, is "worth the trouble". |
| I should scream, quietly…and ask that I remember…always…what I have that is "worth the trouble" |
| I should scream, loudly…the lessons I am learning in a few hours at a golf course! |
| "It`s playing the game that is important. You have to know, there are no bad shots." |
| " You evaluate the swing. |
| "Then you take your club and try again." |
| "There are no bad shots…you learn every time you try. " |
| Next time, if asked, I will scream, "GOLF IS WORTH THE TROUBLE!" |
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| Can't imagine wanting to do anything so badly as to go to this much trouble. Even golf can't be worth it." |
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| I struggle. With life. I struggle. To breathe. I struggle. To make choices. |
| It is so unclear to me…if my swing is bad…if my ball doesn`t fly…then what do I have to offer? |
| It is so unclear to me…how do I swing…what if it`s a bad shot…what if the ball doesn`t even move? |
| It is so unclear to me…if the ball doesn`t move…if my swing is wrong… then what will I be worth to anyone…to myself. |
| It is so unclear to me…if I breathe…exhale slowly…inhale reasonably…take time to evaluate…then am I only taking up space…rather than contributing to our world? |
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| But I heard the words…and they translated into my life situation. |
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| "It is not worth getting frustrated over the bad shots. " |
| So breathe. Relax. And give something new a try. |
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| "It`s playing the game that is important." |
| Share…laugh…love…live. |
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| "You have to know, there are no bad shots. " |
| Learn of faith…and of forgiveness. |
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| "You will learn something from each swing…" |
| You will learn to trust…until you can trust yourself…trust those who care…who know. |
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| "…From the flight of each ball." |
| Don`t forget to enjoy the ride life offers. Celebrate…no matter how low…how high…how far…the flight…joyfully. |
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| "You learn from each swing…each shot…if you are aware." |
| Listen…look…feel…be attentive…it is how you will discover what life offers…what you offer life. |
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| "You evaluate the swing. What did you do that was right? What was wrong? How do you correct it?" |
| Take a chance…risk…evaluate…mind, heart, soul. |
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| "Then you take your club and try again. " |
| Offer more…risk more…improve. |
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| "There are no bad shots…how can there be, if you always learn?" |
| Try…close your eyes and jump…realize the opportunities. |
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| "There are no bad shots…you learn every time you try. Remember that." |
| Make an effort…it is how knowledge grows…how confidence grows. |
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| I would suppose golf has become a passion because it was through this game that summer managed to entice me…to respond to its invitations. Before summer spoke to me, persisted, pushed…I thought I was resigned to watch summer`s days. But summer told me to come to the party. And then, because I thought participating was going to have to be just enough…because I did not want to listen to the directions… so was gasping, rather than breathing deeply, in, out…summer this year grabbed me…and is making its best efforts to teach me how to play. |
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| It teaches in surprising ways. It teaches in surprising places. |
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| Can't imagine wanting to do anything so badly as to go to this much trouble. Even golf can't be worth it." |
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| Yes it can. |
| You learn every time you try…if you never swing, never try, you never learn. |
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| This is summer and these are its gifts. Showing, what surrounds me. Stars, streaking through the universe. Moonbeams leading to the sky. Time…to watch…to see…to breathe. |
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| I will try to follow the summer…inhaling, joyfully…pausing…to find the many treasures worth extra effort. I will try to follow the summer…exhaling, and swinging…knowing it is the only way to learn. I will try to follow the summer, breathing, slowly…to learn…of laughter…love… faith. |
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| "You have to know, there are no bad shots. " |
| Trust. |
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| "You evaluate the swing. |
| Learn. |
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| Imagine wanting to do something so badly that you will make great efforts to do it. |
| Dream. |
| You learn every time you try… |
| Risk. |
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| If you never swing, never try, you never learn. |
| Live. |
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| "You will learn something…from the flight of each ball." Fly. |
| "There are no bad shots. Remember that." |
| Gratefully. |
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| Thanks Jeanne |
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| 15 May, 2003 |
| Randy, Jeanne |
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| I just received these from Jeanne Esch. You must read these two personal descriptions of life lessons and golf. I have just spent the last hour reading and re-reading her descriptions of the golfing experience. This is some of the most powerful and inspirational writing I have had the opportunity to read. This lady writes from the heart in a style that can't help but rekindle one's respect for the power of belief and empower one to keep on trying. This is definitely what was realized at Real Abilities Golf 2000. |
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| You mentioned the possibility of an artist with some time maybe playing with Links 2003 course designer. Do you think Microsoft might have a copy that I can play with? I might start with trying to work with Jeanne on her project but my ultimate goal would be to have the next Real Abilities Golf in Kanananskis. |
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| Let me know what you think. |
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| May 16, 2003 |
| Hi Bill |
| Thank you for your kind words regarding the writings I sent. Writing is sort of, well I suppose "thearaputic" for me, but I don't expect that it would touch anyone else. I appreciate your reactions. |
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| I am off to try to convince the guy who I get my chair from that it would be great fun and good advertising...to put a wheelchair in the creek of the back nine we will be using for the August scramble. Like the cars in the ponds in the BIG tournaments on TV...when a car company sponsors them. And.if someone gets a hole in one on that hole...in the big tournaments they win a car. In this play however you can scramble...you could win the wheelchair! : ) He'll laugh with me! And just maybe he'll agree that it would be, well at least something different! |
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| 16 May, 2003 |
| Jeanne |
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| I'm in awe. Every time you write I'm totally captured by your words and your powers of observation. You are truly an artist with words. Your gift and your inspiration need to be shared with everyone. Don't ever stop writing about what you feel, what you see and how it relates to life. |
| I spend most of my life continuously going from "a tomohawk in my head" to being able to "leap tall buildings with a single bound" and walking with Angels. You definitely are one of those Angels. |
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| My partner Evelyn, I call her the "Amazing Lady Evelyn", empowers me constantly in our pursuit of "No is not an acceptable answer"attitude towards life. I definitely see the same attitude in you especially as you pursue you perfect shot , your perfect game and now your perfect tournament. Randy has agreed to purchase Microsoft links 2003, he also likes Kananaskis, and let me play around with designing a golf course. Could you send me a link to your tournament's Golf Course or a scan of a brochure and I will try a basic layout. |
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| On another subject. I'm submitting a presentation proposal to the ATIA 2004 Conference called "Miraculous Connections" Life changing outcomes from the AT Consumer point of view. The presentation will be a documentary of stories, as told by the consumers themselves, that will illustrate how the power of the human spirit combined with assistive technology has been able to transform and empower their lives on a daily basis. |
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| It would include the stories of Elizabeth Foreman, Dennis DeJarden, Mitchell Seminiuk and myself . I was hoping it might include the story of Jeanne Esch as part of the presentation. Would you be interested? Also can I put some of your writing on golfing on my website? It definitely needs to be heard by others. |
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| We were just at ATIA 2003 presenting "Reflections from a Silver Circle" A Tribute to Assistive Technology. It was a great success thanks to Evelyn, Randy and the Madentec group and a cast of thousands along the way. "Miraculous Connections"would probably take the same format as a PowerPoint presentation. I would need pictures to go along with some of the words that already exist and some background on yourself. |
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| You asked if there is anyway you might be able to help. Your inclusion in this presentation would be of major significance. |
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| Our connection has definitely been a "Meeting of the Waters". |
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| 17 May, 2003 |
| Hi Bill |
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| Sorry I haven't responded to your last email. A friend passed away and I've been pretty much, well, sad of course...and...with her family and other friends last night and today. I just looked through your email..."Angels" caught my eye when I glanced at your message...and I think perhaps there will be another one for both of us. Perhaps she called ahead...and had the web link to you pointed out for me earlier this week! |
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| I think in the rest of your message(s) you are telling me how I can help you...I will read it over more carefully...so I understand... |
| I wouldn't plan on getting back to it before Monday. But...I will check my email later and if there is anything you asked that would need to be answered before then...let me know and I will do my best to find some time to get it to you. |
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| Thank you , for...well... just thank you. |
| Jeanne |
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| May 19, 2003 |
| Jeanne |
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| We were sorry to hear about your loss. I remembered you had mentioned liking theSky picture "Boundless". I thought you might like to read the poem that goes along with it. It's remarkably appropriate for times just like this. |
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