This morning my legs are tired, but I’m still basking in the beauty of the Napa sunset and the satisfaction of having hit some balls well. Soreness of muscles melds with the heartbreak of putts that lipped out and pulled irons that bounded into vineyards. “No one lives up to their ideal.” But my expectations still bite me. I play well enough often enough that I think I can score consistently… and then don’t.

Life lives on. Scenery passes gratefully. Profound blessings of being alive and knowing that the glowing is somehow part of me. The beauty of yesterday and the release of shots well struck. My heart calls me to these moments.

There’s fun in “giving it a go” regardless of the outcome. The power of appreciating the process is real. Yet the mind clings more automatically to the scorecard’s frequently disappointing news. There’s so much more here, even in the memory of a simple chip nestled next to the pin on #9 for a rare par on that hole… or in a drive there on #14 that split the uprights and carried the crown of the hill.

Looking at golden reflections on water reminds me that there’s more here than meets the mind’s limited volition. Sweetness of company. Play. And another day of enjoying the ride regardless of what I think is “supposed” to happen.