Making peace with par.

Good golf looks boring.  A player who reaches a green in regulation, two-putts, and walks off with a par makes a game that occupies much time and thought look downright routine.

I don’t happen to be such a player. When I am able to get a par, I’m embarrassed by my discontent. Too often, I want a shot beyond my abilities. Referred to as “low percentage,” I try a shot that’s spectacular and memorable: Drive a green on a par four . . .  chip it in from the sand. . .  hit the ball from behind a tree, over two traps, and hit the flag leaving it six inches from the hole . . . these are the moments which can irretrievably alter one’s approach to the game. They cause discontent with the ordinary, and hunger for the nearly impossible.

Playing the game as it was intended will, in the long run, provide sustainable joy, keeping mishaps and pleasant surprises minor. (It will also cause fewer back problems.) Pars, with bogies and birdies on either side, becomes the typical range of one’s game. A round in search of birdies brings with it a rare eagle and countless double and triple bogies.

As I made my way around a golf course recently, such thoughts reminded of what a mirror golf is to life. There are those who play it as it was intended, with minor mishaps and surprises along the way. Others demand more out of life, often more than life can provide, and end up with dramatic results. Desire for love that is rapturous each day, wine that’s always vintage, bank accounts overflowing, and work that is meaningful and lucrative, are like trying to hole a shot from 175 yards out. It's pssible, but not likely.

Living for birdies and eagles is exhausting and, most often, frustrating. Better to make peace with the way life was intended. It may appear boring from time to time, but the joy it provides is sustainable and lasting.

At least, that’s what I’ve heard.