Golf means the world to me because golf is my greatest teacher. Like an ideal Zen master, golf has no bias. It is completely honest. The game has no attachment to how I play. It gives me brutally honest feedback. The ball is where it is, no matter how much I might want it to be someplace else. By playing golf, I face who I really am. I run headlong into my desire to be someone else, to be a better player, to be a better person, and golf shows me exactly who I am on any given day and sometimes that is what’s so hard to face.

Golf will not let me run away from myself. It shows me the whining, complaining part of me, who when I am upset about poor greens, gives myself a 4 foot putt. I can write any number I want on the scorecard, but the ball was not in the hole. Am I really such a dishonest person? Or am I so anal I can’t give myself a break? Golf does not answer these questions for me, it only raises them.

Such honest teaching is why golf matters to me. No one can show me a clearer picture of me. No one can be this honest with me. No one warrants so much trust from me. I may be able to project an image of confidence or courage or ability to some people, but to golf, I can’t project a thing. I can’t lie to golf. Golf tells me when I’m happy. It tells me when I’m upset. It tells me when I’m mad. It tells me when I’m out of control. It tells me when I’m afraid. Who else could tell me that? Who else would I so readily believe?

Because golf is all of this, it becomes a perfect container for all of my demons. In this container, I find the truth about all I wish I was and all I believe I am. In the deepest darkest part of this container, I find my fears. Golf offers the perfect setting to meet with my demons. It gives me ample time to get to know them. I’ve learned time and again that even though I’m afraid of my demons, they are here to help me. They are here to show me the truth about myself. They are here to be transformed.

The most popular demon is fear. I learn time and again that fear, like the rest of my demons, cannot be eliminated. I continue to learn to play the game even though I am afraid. Sure, there are times when I can play fearlessly, but I also know my fear can never be completely eliminated. I know there will always be times in my life when I’m afraid. When those times come, golf has taught me how to walk hand-in-hand with my fear as I go through whatever I am going through.

Golf has shown me that when I embrace my fear, play alongside it, I can experience joy. To me, joy is not the absence of fear, but the embracing of it and swinging the club anyway. If there were no fear, there would be no joy. I can experience the thrill of making a birdie putt because I was afraid, because my fear was there with me. Knowing this means the world to me.

No other way of learning seems to apply so directly to my life. An intellectual lesson has to be taken out and practiced for it to become a true knowledge. A lesson on the golf course happens in my bones and flesh. It instantly becomes knowledge. I may forget that lesson, but golf is relentless; it will present the lesson over and over and over. What other teacher has that much patience?

Once, golf told me I needed to break up with my girlfriend. I’m usually a gentle sort on the course, but for a number of rounds I noticed a growing rage inside of me as I played well below my ability. One night, after a particularly irritating round, I was writing in my journal. I wrote about how frustrated I was, how hopeless I felt, and then I wrote, I don’t want to do this anymore. I instantly knew what it was I didn’t want to do anymore. I didn’t want to suffer the continuing frustrations of the relationship I was in. I had heard from myself and others that I needed to end our relationship, but it was golf I believed.

The next day I broke up with my girlfriend of five years. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever done at that time in my life. I was terribly heartbroken and my golf game instantly improved. Lesson learned. Move on.

Seneca wrote, “If you’re willing, the fates will lead you. If you’re not, they’ll drag you.” The same can be said about the game of golf. With golf, I’m willing and it certainly leads me. Like life and love, facing yourself through the game of golf is not for the weak hearted. I invite you to take a lesson from the best teacher I know.