Moments Captured #3 - Quiet Beauty

“I wish that all of nature’s magnificence, the emotion of the land, the living energy of place could be photographed.” — Annie Leibovitz

It has been fun stretching my writing muscles again, just for the fun of it. "Use it or lose it". The more I've started to write in this blog again, the more I look forward to doing so again. My brain isn't so easily stumped as to "What do I write about?". Ideas just blossom, given a little bit of attention.

I was looking back at old entries of mine and found a couple that I really enjoyed: ones in which I wrote about photographs I took (taking pictures is another thing I enjoy). When I saw that I hadn't written about and shared some favorite snapshots for 9 years...well...time to do so again. I've certainly taken some memorable shots since then. Here goes. The pictures are listed in no particular order, and their theme just came to me...

Six Favorite Photos - Quiet Beauty

Schmidt Family Vineyards - October 2017

There are many beautiful vineyards in the Rogue Valley here - we've certainly enjoyed hanging out at a number of them. But the grounds at Schmidt Family Vineyards are the most spectacular, no matter the season. The sprawling green lawns there are fronted by a large pond and fountain - framed by trees. I love the different colors and level of light in this shot, and how I was able to capture the pond. Makes you want to sit in an Adirondack chair, cold glass of Pinot Gris in hand, and just smile and enjoy the tranquility. 

Tracy Arm Fjord, Alaska - August 2019

Deborah and I took an Alaskan cruise in the late summer of 2019. What a great adventure that was! Lots of fun pictures and experiences that I might share in the future. But this photo is still my most favorite. I took it early in the morning of our 2nd day of the cruise. We had left our home port of Seattle and sailed the open sea for most of a day and night. This was my 1st glimpse of the wonder of Alaska. I woke sometime around 6 am - just before sunrise - stepped out on our deck and saw this. Wow. The serene beauty just stunned me. You'd think this photo was black and white - it isn't. This was the color of the moment - a split second in between night and day, holding elements of both - but being neither. Unforgettable.

Silent Creek, near Diamond Lake OR - October 2019

We like to ride our bikes, especially in the fall. And one of the prettiest rides we ever took was around Diamond Lake. The lake is about an hour drive from us. The resort there sits at about 5000' in the Cascade Mtns, so they get plenty of snow in the winter. But we discovered that the fall is gorgeous there! There is a paved set of paths around the lake that you can take for about a 10 mile ride (perfect length for us!). Near the end of the ride, you will cross Silent Creek. We stopped there to eat lunch and that's where I took this picture. Aren't the colors amazing? I've never seen that red before. And the creek fit its name: silent and peaceful. 

Face Rock at sunset - Bandon OR November 2019

By now, you know Deborah and I love going to the beach, and that Bandon OR is our favorite coastal getaway. We go there 3-4 times a year; I've been going there for 30 years. We are such frequent visitors because we never tire of the beauty seen there. The beaches at Bandon are unique for their rock formations and sea stacks, such as Face Rock. I have taken dozens of photos of Face Rock, but this one is special to me. The sunset that evening was spectacular: colors splashing and then fading across the sky; soft light painting the gentle waves lapping at the shore. And a lone person standing still - captured as I was up on the hotel balcony - taking in the majesty of it all. I think that's my favorite detail of this photo. It reminds me of the truth of how small of a part of this world I really am. And it reminds me of the importance of stopping and being open to the beauty all around me. 

Dutcher Creek #2 - October 2021

Of course, there had to be a golf shot in here. Part of the joy of golf is getting to walk around some really beautiful places. My favorite local course, Dutcher Creek, is one of those - especially in the fall. Management has also been working really hard to keep making the course look even better. I took this photo last fall as I walked to the tee box on #2. Believe it or not, this gorgeous pond was once the home of nothing but wild blackberries and tall grass. Much prettier now!

Entering Tom Pearce Park - November 2021

My final picture for this entry is this one. A favorite memory from our walks together last year. Deborah and I set a goal for ourselves in 2021 to walk every day, and so we did. Rain or shine. During every season. Every day for 346 consecutive days (the only thing that stopped us was me getting sick with Covid). Our favorite places to walk were in our local parks, and this is the entrance to our favorite one. Tom Pearce is a small county park right alongside the Rogue River. This is what the entrance to the park looked like last fall. Golden splendor. A warm invitation everyday to the quiet wonders there. We still walk here at least a couple of times a week and it's still our favorite oasis. Together we've watched the seasons come and go here...watched the leaves come and go...the river ebb and flow...and felt both time passing...and what is timeless. What a gift.

“I really believe there are things nobody would see if I didn’t photograph them.” (Diane Arbus)

It was fun sharing these with you! I look forward to sharing more of these again!

Just Don't Quit - A Lesson in Golf and Life

 "Perseverance is the hard work you do after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did." (Newt Gingrich)

About a week ago, I wrote an entry on how I had become "a golfer":  "...a full-blown, all-in, can't get enough of it, deeply addicted, aficionado and practitioner of this holy sport." (as I so sagely put it then)

Me at the Practice range at Bandon Dunes OR - September 2021

But there is a stony Truth that all those who dare call themselves "golfers" ultimately face. Golf is a really hard game to play well - and it is impossible to master. I mean, just consider the fundamental assumption of the activity: 

Take one human being (whose physical, mental, and emotional resources vary daily). Give him 14 different sized and shaped clubs and a small ball, 1.680 inches in diameter. Place him hundreds of yards away from his target. Throw every kind of geographic and geologic obstacles (sand, water, dips and mounds, trees and thorny grasses) in between him and that target. Add in the pressure of competition and a dash of self esteem. And tell him the goal of the game is to get his ball there in the FEWEST number of strikes. 

A sane person might say that's a guaranteed recipe for frustration and disappointment. And they'd be right. Every golfer will face a moment (actually many of them) when he/she will want to quit. Give up. Stop suffering over this impossibly sufferable game.

Though I've only been playing a short time (about 6 years), I've felt that impulse a few more times than I'd care to admit. Ironically, it's come up even stronger as my skill level has improved. Something in me believes that it's finally "mastered" a certain shot; that "I finally feel it"; that I now understand how to hit the ball where I want it to go. And so now I'm a "winning golfer".

But then disappointment appears and delivers an ugly reminder. My partner and I lose our weekly match for the 5th time in a row. Drives that I hit straight in practice all week are suddenly flying left and right. Putts become stubborn donkeys that refuse to go where they are directed.

And a heaviness creeps into me. My head starts to hang and my world becomes small. Just me and the punishing thoughts. "This is too hard". "You'll never get it". "I hate losing". "Phone it in. Just quit."

"Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat." (F. Scott Fitzgerald)

I can vividly remember a moment when this was happening a few months ago during our weekly match. We were losing (again). I couldn't hit a straight drive to save myself, so I began half-heartedly using my 3 wood instead. Cut my losses, I thought. Quit. Just stop embarrassing myself. Of course, even though this was what I was feeling, I tried to put on "the brave face" - and act like nothing was bothering me. Still a "cool customer" on the course.

Luckily, a good friend I was playing with knew the truth. He could sense my negative energy and felt the interior sagging of a "quitter" start to come over me. And he did something that I've never forgotten.

He quietly walked up to me on the 12th tee - stood just inches from me - and quietly, but firmly said to me: "I'm not your golf coach. But I have just one thing to say to you. Just don't quit. Don't let fear tell you what you can and cannot do. Step up to the ball and swing, and don't care where it goes. That's the only way you'll learn what you need to learn."

Just don't quit. In those three words lies a valuable lesson, both on and off the golf course. 

Unwanted moments - ones in which we feel disappointed, or betrayed, or believe we have gone as far as we can go and it's impossible to go further - feel like they are the "end of the road". In these moments, Life seems like it is denying me. "Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Try to Be a Better Golfer. This is the Last Stop. Get Off."

But Life is not presenting an obstacle or a judgment. Instead, Life is offering me a BRIDGE and asking, "Will you go as far as you can...and then try to take just one more step further?" And if I'm willing to do that, I will discover something that I couldn't discover any other way.

There is another world of possibilities beyond what my mind tells me exists. I can do more than what I believe. But this can only be discovered if I STAY in the MIDST of the struggle. Just don't quit. Don't walk away from the bridge that can deliver me to the lesson I need. The nature that "knows" that golf (or Life) is "impossible" has no interest in being or learning anything new about itself. 

And that nature doesn't have to be my leader. Or my teacher. Or my playing partner.

I can't stop the feelings of frustration and negativity from coming the next time I slice or shank a ball. But I can make a different choice. I can let them pass. I can work to remember to lift my head and to take a deep breath. I can can do my best to learn what I can from what I'm feeling. And then I can start over. Drop the punishing thoughts and begin again. Take the step that something in me believes it can't.

"It's hard to beat a person who never gives up." (Babe Ruth)

I'm sure there will be times when I'll need to remember all of this wisdom. That's why I wrote it for myself. Life is never static. Its possibilities are endless, as are mine. There is no "bridge too far" for the golfer who's willing to meet his limitations... and then take just one more step.

Just Don't Quit. A powerful Pearl right there. 

One Can Always Dream!

Waiting For the Rose to Bloom

 “It’s the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” – Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

I sit here in unfamiliar territory, not sure where to go. A memory pops into my head of a moment that felt just like this, but 24 years in the past. 

I was off on my 1st overseas trip. I had decided I wanted to visit Ireland, so off I flew once the school year ended. Not sure what the attraction was that Ireland held for me then - I'm about as German as one can get (though some would say I have a "wee bit of the blarney" within me. Anyway, after 14 hours of flying, I remember landing at Shannon Airport in southwest Ireland. I scrambled to find the rental car agency there; got my keys and set off to find the car I had bravely planned to drive around Ireland for the next two weeks. 

I found it and threw my backpack in it, and then suddenly came to a complete halt. I remember actually feeling a shiver - even though I was standing in the bright morning sun in that parking lot. The shiver was produced by the sudden realization that this was it. I was here. In an unknown land. Totally unfamiliar to me. And it was completely up to me to get myself to wherever I was headed. The plan had been to drive myself to the city of Galway, about an hour away, to stay at a hotel I had booked. On paper, that had seemed so simple. But now - at that very moment - I felt as if I was on the moon. Alone. Frozen. Not sure how - or it which direction - to take a step. And there was no turning back. 

So I stood there, still. And I remember just catching my breath. And waiting. Not sure for what - but just waiting. And after a few moments, I moved. Got into the car (though it took two tries to do so - the Irish drive on the left - so I had gotten in on the wrong side initially) - and off I went. And to make a long story short, my 1st great adventure began. 

A scene from Galway. Walking the streets in 1998

The reason that memory got jogged was because I sit here at my desk on a rainy afternoon in southern Oregon for the 2nd day in a row. Haven't done this for a LONG time. And I wanted to write another entry, 

But I felt lost - in unfamiliar territory - unsure in which direction to take a step. I watched my brain struggle to find something "familiar" to grab on to so it could "get going". And I heard a small whisper try to convince me to "Quit" - "Nothing here today for you". Go back to the living room and quit wasting time.

But over the years, I've slowly learned the value of WAITING. Of being willing to let something flower in the seeming emptiness. As de Saint-Exupery observes in the quote at the top, it is the WAITING: the willingness to spend time, still and receptive, that brings forth that which is beautiful and has value. 

Too often, we run from the emptiness. Or more honestly, we immediately fill it with something. Familiar thoughts and feelings. Things to Do. Plans for tomorrow. Regrets about the past. Certainty about what's "right" and "wrong". Judgments: about others and oneself. 

I know I do. That's why it's so hard at first to still in a quiet moment (for longer than a minute or two) - and just be still. And see what New might come.

As our teacher Guy Finley said to us recently, "You are meant to be always New - not afraid of being New. Stop trying to escape the emptiness by filling it with empty images. Leave the Door open. Let the Moment pour into your awareness and pour back out."

So I sat here, with the door open. And look what came. Certainly nothing I ever expected. But a rose for sure. A rare one that I could have never imagined. 

“I give you this to take with you: Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you can begin again, with pure joy in the uprooting.” – Judith Minty

Life is exchange. For something new to appear, something old must be given up. This truth is being made evident all around me on this wet spring afternoon. The pansies and petunias...the cherry trees and lilac bushes...all waiting to be made new once more.

Nice to be reminded that I have the same chance myself. Right now. And then again. And again. 

Another Pearl in the pocket...

Having Fun With A Strange Game

 "Golf is played by twenty million mature American men whose wives think they are out having fun." (Jim Bishop)

Another entry in the category called "Meant to Do this Awhile Ago". Feels good to finally getting around to clearing out that dusty corner a bit...

Hi. My name is Jon. I'm a golfer.

Four years ago I wrote about how I was taking up this "new hobby". Well, it's no longer a "hobby"- "An activity done regularly in one's leisure time for pleasure." - as I casually noted in that blog entry. 

A near ace for me at my favorite course. Dutcher Creek. #4 Par 3, 142 yds.

Well, it's now official. I'm a full-blown, all-in, can't get enough of it, deeply addicted, aficionado and practitioner of this holy sport. Though not fully "ordained" yet into the Priesthood of Par, I'm well on my way to being a fully committed Seminarian of Swing.  A Deacon of the Links. Yes, A real golfer. 

One sign of how my commitment to the game has gone well past the "hobby" stage is just how much of the strange vocabulary/lingo of golf I now understand! Like all "deeply serious" vocations, there is an arcane, semi-secret jargon used by its adherents, that they all can converse freely in - yet leaves outsiders completely baffled!

So since I love playing around with words - and I love golf - let me take you on a linguistic tour! Here we go! (golf terms in bold).

I haven't had an Ace yet, but I've enjoyed a pair of Eagles and a bundle of Birdies. The Bogey-man still makes unwanted visits, and Double-Bogies are not "twice as fun". Fortunately, Frosty the Snowman hasn't visited me in a few years. 

“Golf is a game whose aim is to hit a very small ball into an even smaller hole, with weapons singularly ill-designed for the purpose.” (Winston Churchill)

I've hit all kinds of shots on the golf course (not always deliberately!). It's amazing how many different terms there are for golf shots (probably because it's so dang difficult to simply hit the ball straight!). Fades and Draws are good. Hooks and Slices are not. There are flop shots and stingers and bump & runs. You can hit it Fat or hit it Thin: neither is good. Nor is a Shank or a Worm-Burner. or when you "Skull" it.

When you hit something not so good, you may try to help the errant shot by yelling things at it like, "Bite!" or "Cut!" or "Sit!" or "Come back!" or "Get Lucky!". But from my experience, golf balls don't listen very well. Alas as some might say, "It takes a lot of balls to golf like I do"!

Sometimes if your playing partners are feeling generous, they'll let you hit a Mulligan or a Breakfast Ball. But don't count on it. Usually the best thing they can do for you is just pat you on the back and offer you some Birdie Juice. They may be your buddies, but they aren't your Looper. 

If you're playing and competing with your buddies, there are certain phrases you'd rather not hear such as: "Still got work to do there, Jonny", or "Left a lot of meat on that bone, Jon-Boy", or "Try hitting that with your purse, Alice", or "She's Gone".  And the worst might be the three simple words, "You're still away". 

But then there are the good holes when everything is clicking! When you take out The Big Dog and take a mighty swing and the boys say, "That dog can hunt!", and when the game is easy and you're Throwing Darts and Dancing, and then Getting Up and Down, and Sticking it in the Jar. 

And that's what keeps bringing us golfers back. Back to the links. One more time. It doesn't take much if you come to love the game, as one of my hats says. Just one shot. 

So until next time, see you on the links. Or on "the rails" as my wife calls. And don't ever forget the last thing she always says to me as I walk out the door to head to the course: "Have fun, and just "Hit the ball, Willie!".  Two real Pearls to carry with me as I keep playing this game...as is this:

“As you walk down the fairway of life you must smell the roses, for you only get to play one round.” -Ben Hogan