Relax and swing away.
So this is a first. And I can already feel it being a whole new ballgame. Am I writing all this for me.. you.. them? Will ANYONE ever read this :D And what about privacy VS openness?
Went to the driving range today. Stepped through the office in the morning and got a few calls asking me if we'd be up for going down there. Well.. it being Sunday and all - golf was definitely a YES.
It's interesting how time instantly adapts that "relative" touch while you're hitting away. 50 balls heading out to the green field.. some low, some high, some all over the place. You'd think 50 would take some time, but once you get to placing the last golf ball on the tee, it seems like it's only been a moment. And it never has. That moment lasted a half hour.. more if you're out there with your friends.. a bit less when you went alone.
It's all about concentration. And concentration is a funny old thing.
You can sip a whole cup of tea in your favourite cafe on the corner. And be oblivious to the people around you.. all that coming & going, constant chatter, cups being filled and orders being taken. Somebody would ask you for the time, and you wouldn't have a clue. Time? I honestly think it's January.
That's concentrating hard on the inside. Lost in thought.. whereas you're nowhere near lost, but instead mapping your way through those thoughts as if you had a compass and the A to Z'd. You ain't lost, baby. You're all THERE.. just not THEN.
Snowing in July.
Or. You go for coffee instead. Something cute, something mocca. And you pay attention. A piece of a conversation from the table behind you.. waiting for that glance or a smile from what seems to be the Girl From Ipanema herself. Girls entering.. gorgeous women making their entrance. And now you're all about THEN. Boring people staying too long.. opportunity and beauty practicing the speed of light. It's the beginning of September.
Concentration is not really an art, since we all do it, and we all go about it the same way. Switch off THERE, and the world will enter. Switch off THEN, and the Girl From Ipanema just did her samba and you never even knew.
It's when you're bringing that empty cup to your lips for the ninth time without a hint of taste to be met that you finally wake up. And hit the ball. And watch it touch the clouds before landing 250 yards away from you.
A funny old thing.
When caught up on issues of essence, we lose track of time and the world around us. We're sporting the fabric of standstill.
When constantly being "connected" and breathing in the world 24/7, we sometimes miss the things that in the end will matter most or simply provide us with a meaning.
Neither one will do, if you want to make that swing count. You will have to be both there AND then. Eyes on the ball, thoughts on the game.
Samba dancing all the way to Ipanema.. to get that refill of yours.
Went to the driving range today. Stepped through the office in the morning and got a few calls asking me if we'd be up for going down there. Well.. it being Sunday and all - golf was definitely a YES.
It's interesting how time instantly adapts that "relative" touch while you're hitting away. 50 balls heading out to the green field.. some low, some high, some all over the place. You'd think 50 would take some time, but once you get to placing the last golf ball on the tee, it seems like it's only been a moment. And it never has. That moment lasted a half hour.. more if you're out there with your friends.. a bit less when you went alone.
It's all about concentration. And concentration is a funny old thing.
You can sip a whole cup of tea in your favourite cafe on the corner. And be oblivious to the people around you.. all that coming & going, constant chatter, cups being filled and orders being taken. Somebody would ask you for the time, and you wouldn't have a clue. Time? I honestly think it's January.
That's concentrating hard on the inside. Lost in thought.. whereas you're nowhere near lost, but instead mapping your way through those thoughts as if you had a compass and the A to Z'd. You ain't lost, baby. You're all THERE.. just not THEN.
Snowing in July.
Or. You go for coffee instead. Something cute, something mocca. And you pay attention. A piece of a conversation from the table behind you.. waiting for that glance or a smile from what seems to be the Girl From Ipanema herself. Girls entering.. gorgeous women making their entrance. And now you're all about THEN. Boring people staying too long.. opportunity and beauty practicing the speed of light. It's the beginning of September.
Concentration is not really an art, since we all do it, and we all go about it the same way. Switch off THERE, and the world will enter. Switch off THEN, and the Girl From Ipanema just did her samba and you never even knew.
It's when you're bringing that empty cup to your lips for the ninth time without a hint of taste to be met that you finally wake up. And hit the ball. And watch it touch the clouds before landing 250 yards away from you.
A funny old thing.
When caught up on issues of essence, we lose track of time and the world around us. We're sporting the fabric of standstill.
When constantly being "connected" and breathing in the world 24/7, we sometimes miss the things that in the end will matter most or simply provide us with a meaning.
Neither one will do, if you want to make that swing count. You will have to be both there AND then. Eyes on the ball, thoughts on the game.
Samba dancing all the way to Ipanema.. to get that refill of yours.
posted by Henri M at 11:17 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home