Pinball Machine of Nerves
Emotions Have a Mind of Their Own
I’m strolling down the fairway of the 7th hole. The early evening air on this fall day is not too warm, not too cool. Alongside me are three of my beginning golf students, all friendly, likeable people. There’s a gentle breeze, as I walk toward my golf ball, which is sitting on the manicured fairway 10 yards from the putting surface.
Despite the serene setting I’m aware of an overall feeling of tension. It’s throughout my body and mind, including my breathing. Each breath I take feels incomplete. When I try to consciously take a slow deep breath, and slowly exhale, it doesn’t feel satisfying. The same type of tightness is going on in my mind. On my drive to the golf course I was listening to a George Carlin stand-up comedy routine on the radio. My laughter was flowing. Pure, uninhibited joy, and freedom. I think about how I would react if I heard Carlin now. I’m certain it would be different. The best I would be able to muster up is a partial smile. Not even a chuckle. My consciousness is locked into the trepidation of playing this upcoming shot, a basic chip, which has been my Achilles heel in recent months.
The apprehension reminds me of the way I always felt as a teenager at the Passover table. As is the tradition we would go around the table, with everyone reading a paragraph or two from the Haggadah. This was a time of anxiety. Would I be reading a section which had an unfamiliar word that I wasn’t sure how to pronounce. Instead of following along in the story, I was a number of paragraphs ahead, trying to prepare for the sentences I might be reading. If I came across a particularly difficult word, I could only hope I would be reading a different paragraph.
As I get closer to hitting my shot, I know my blood pressure is running high. I’ve measured it enough times at home to have a good sense of what the reading would be. It doesn’t matter that I practiced this very upcoming shot a hundred times the previous day, with a high percentage of success. It doesn’t matter that I’ve played excellent golf in tournaments with other golf professionals. I wish I was feeling relaxed and confident. I think about how insignificant this upcoming shot is in the big picture of things. My rational mind understands that this situation doesn’t warrant nerves like a ball bouncing around a pinball machine. This thought does not calm my emotions. They have a mind of their own.
I take a couple of practice swings, letting the sole of the club just barely brush the top of the grass. I allow the club to gently accelerate on the downswing and follow through. It’s a beautiful fall evening as the sun is setting and dusk is approaching. It’s time to hit the shot.
