How to Play Golf With Your Ears

By Lowell Smith

Ever feel like quitting golf? (be honest)

In this highly entertaining book the author shares his personal mid-life golfing crisis. He chronicles the emotional frustrations and disappointments of losing his once proud skills. His determined campaign to become a born-again gamer will inspire golfers of all ages.
His quest for understanding and personal enlightenment leads him to the enduring insights of Shivas Irons, the legendary Scottish teaching pro from the Links of Burningbush, immortalized in author Michael Murphy's classic tale of Golf in the Kingdom.

" The human mind, once stretched by a new idea, never goes back to its original dimensions.” -Oliver Wendell Holmes

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lowell Smith
• Release date: Oct 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301366620

Lowell Smith

Lowell Smith has had a life-long curiosity about the American way of life. For twenty-seven of those years (1977-2004) he authored a nationally syndicated feature which answered questions from readers about their lifestyle interests. His column, The Average American-How do you compare? , was read weekly by some 12 million Americans in more than 120 national and regional newspapers. In addition, the feature was used as resource questions for the television game show, Hollywood Squares.His fascination with the game of golf has paralleled his lifestyle interests for more than four decades “Golf is that unique athletic adventure that forces you to attempt to understand yourself more than any other sport, “Smith says. His life-long appreciation for the examined life has led him to delve into the historical, philosophical and emotional dimensions of the game.Smith's appreciation for the enduring wit,wisdom and sarcasm of Mark Twain began with a high school book review assignment. According to Smith, " I chose The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County-it was a book review assignment that wrote itself, and I soon became a Mark Twain fan for life."Lowell Smith lives in St. Helena, California, in the heart of the Napa Valley wine country. He is active in community affairs and served a twelve year stent as the town’s Mayor.

Book preview

Zen and the Secret of Playing Golf with Your Ears

Lowell Smith

Copyright © 2013 by Lowell Smith

Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About the Author

Introduction

My friends, he said, " devoted disciplin’ and grace will bring you knowing’s and powers everywhere…ye’ll come away from the links with a new hold on life, it is certain if ye play the game with all your heart. Shivas Irons-in Golf in the Kingdom by Michael Murphy

A born-again golfer

I first heard my oldest daughter, a newly ordained Presbyterian minister; refer to her father as a born-again golfer in the early spring of my fifty-second year. You know the type, she explained to a friend, a guy who rediscovers the game in mid-life and is frantically trying to catch up on all the fun and frustration he’s missed for all those years.

And she was right. After a twenty-year hiatus, I was actively attempting to resurrect a long-neglected golf swing. In fact, I was somewhat desperately determined to relive my earlier successes on the links. Once again the sweet-sounding click of a confident tee-shot that arched magnificently into the early morning sky, turned slowly with a slight draw and ended its flight with a ten-yard roll to the center of the fairway, was rekindling an ember deep within my soul. A crisp 4-iron beyond the dogleg, an effortless 9-iron over the lurking pond, a soft twenty-foot downhill birdie putt that teetered on the lip of the cup; then a tap-in par…all were restoring the spring in my step, and the warmth in my heart. I was once again captured by the seduction of the momentary triumphs that the noble game of golf offers.

It makes us feel our will triumphant, we return to that paradise in which we dwelt before our natal hour…Why quibble that this taste of perfection comes only once in a hundred shots, or once in a thousand? We taste the nectar once and must ever after continue to seek it…That glimpse, gentlemen. That glimpse the goddess of golf grants us when she will, and that is all she requires to render us abject before her forever! Grantland Rice in the Legend of Bagger Vance by Steven Pressfield.

A reality check

However, for all the brief moments of rejuvenating bliss, my times of joy were most often few and far between. I could not escape the reality that the march of time had altered my athletic skills and my recycled golf game was plagued by inconsistency, uncertainty, and disappointment.

It soon became painfully evident that an industrial-strength slice had replaced my once-confident draw. Where greens in regulation were once part of my vocabulary, now my youngest son often compared my mid-iron shots to the efforts of a cross-eyed javelin thrower. He would smile and quip, He doesn’t win any prizes, but he keeps the crowd alert! And to top it off, my short game kept me ankle-deep in sand, water, and assorted shrubbery.

It even got to the point where it felt somewhat therapeutic to share my putting pain with my fellow California drivers. My personalized license plates told it like it was-ONN2NN5.

But putting was just the tip of the iceberg. I had lost confidence in my ball-striking ability with every club in my bag. On the practice range and the course, I flailed at the ball and too often my herky-jerky swing produced a fat-sounding clack at impact. I searched in desperation for keys to control my explosive timing and ways to make solid contact with the golf ball.

An impossible quest?

Not surprisingly, I soon found myself on an emotional roller-coaster. I wondered if I had waited too long. Perhaps I was too old and too limited to relearn the game. Had I begun a quest which was beyond my abilities to complete? Should (or could) I accept the fact that I had become what Bobby Jones called a Dub and be content with posting triple-digit scores for the remainder of my golfing days?

But giving in to mid-life mediocrity was not a comfortable choice. The prospect of spending the autumn of my golfing days wondering if I had taken the easy way out was too disheartening. It was finally Shiva’s Irons simple admonition; ‘ye’ll come away from the links with a new hold on life, that is certain, if ye play the game with all your heart…. that spawned a new inner commitment to reclaiming my golf game.

A journey of enlightenment

The game is a mighty teacher-never deviatin’ from the sacred rools, always ready to lead us on. In all o’that ‘tis a microcosm o’the world, a good stage for the drama of self discovery. Shivas Irons

In the late spring, I began what I later came to call my Journey of Enlightenment. My goal was to relearn to play the game well enough that I would again be comfortable and confident in my golfing skills.

From the outset of my journey, my first priority was the mechanics of the golf swing. I eagerly gathered dozens of self-help books, videos, and assorted training devices. I subscribed to a variety of golf magazines and read and clipped articles that promised to help me understand and improve my swing. I purchased the latest technology in custom-fitted clubs and sought professional instruction.

Anxious to put my new found knowledge to practical use, I dedicated myself to daily sessions at the practice range. I faithfully hit buckets and buckets of range balls and carefully recorded the results of my practice sessions in a detailed computer journal.

However, after six months of disciplined efforts, I was forced to admit that my progress was pathetic. My handicap index showed only modest improvement. I had little to show for hundreds of hours of practice and thousands of dollars of expense.

The truth of the