“What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. The sun rises, and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises. The wind blows to the south and goes around to the north; around and around goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns.”
“What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.”
Before I lose you: yes, this is a golf blog. We’re getting there, I promise – just hang tight.
Where I might lose you, though, is this: what you’re reading is more than just a golf blog. I wanted to make sure we air that out before things get too far along, and you feel like I’ve led you on, or something like that.
You see, golf is great (and if you know me well, you know that there are few people who believe this as wholeheartedly as I do), but golf isn’t the end-all, be-all of life. What it can be, however, is a very valuable lens through which we view this journey; it can help us process landmark events, make important decisions, and foster relationships that otherwise we might not have the opportunity or courage to develop. For this reason, another generic golf blog just isn’t going to have the impact or effect that I feel called to pursue.
But maybe, if you’ll give me, my heart, and my hands on this keyboard a chance, this humble little “life through the lens of golf” blog post could help you see the world in a different way, and make it a better place for all of us.
Which, then, brings me back to the quote from the top.
“What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun.”
That’s got a nice little bit of rhyme to it, huh?
This is a quote from the first chapter of Ecclesiastes, which, whatever your regard for the Bible or Christianity may be, is one of the most valuable pieces of wisdom literature known the world around. Specifically, the author’s continued exploration of the term “vanity” (Hebrew “hebel”, meaning literally a “mist”, “vapor”, or “mere breath”) can provide us with a deeply profound perspective on life, achievement, possession, and passion. “I have seen everything that is done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind”, he writes.
Where this connects to golf, and to Albatrace (if it wasn’t already obvious), is that in the midst of excitement and newness – whether that be a new golf course, a new competition, a new playing partner, or simply a new blog post – there is the undoubted reality that this same thing has already happened to, or been done by, someone else. Maybe that sounds bleak and depressing to you, but to me, there is an unmatched sense of security to be found in this truth, and likewise a very unique kind of beauty.
It brings to mind a specific memory about a conversation I had with my wife on our honeymoon – and yes, if you were wondering, she gave me permission to tell you this story.
We were hiking one of the trails at Hocking Hills State Park in southern Ohio; mind you, my wife and I had met just before the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, so naturally (pun intended!) many of our early dates were spent outdoors, exploring the hills and woodlands around our hometown. This trail on which we found ourselves that afternoon, if I’m being completely honest, didn’t look much different from those we had seen many times before. Yet in the same breath, there was nothing else like it – new rock formations, waterfalls, trees, shrubs, fallen logs; new sights, sounds and smells. I was fully captivated.
And no, dear reader, there were no illicit substances involved. This is just how my brain works.
But as it happens, my beautiful bride must have thought that I was “on something”, because she was none too happy with the pace at which I was traversing this particular trail, and seemed to be equally irritated with my enjoyment of what, to her, looked like almost every other hike we had been on before.
I’m slow, my love. You married me!
The point, and the reason I remember this day so often, is that up until then, I hadn’t given much thought to exactly why it gives me such delight to gaze upon what others might pass over, or undervalue.
Sure, there are probably hundreds of boulder fields and recess caves, and thousands of white pine trees in southern Ohio.
Sure, there are hundreds, if not thousands of dogleg-right par-fours, lined on both sides with trees, the fairway draped gently over a ridge with the approach rising slowly to a green benched into the hillside beneath a small, simple clubhouse and a row of forest-colored Adirondack chairs.
But does that take away from the innate beauty, both rugged and refined, contained within and emanating from each of these things?
My argument is, and always will be, a firm “no”.
The reason why I receive such joy from what many might call mundane is, in principle, their design. Everything has it – the device you’re using to read this article; the chair or couch you might be sitting on; the road you’ll take on your next drive; the routing of your local muni, and the routing of the trails at your nearest public park.
By that logic, we can reasonably assume that there is some amount of design present in nature: the trees, with their branches and leaves; the rocks, with their texture and contour. Every trickling stream at the bottom of a valley is like the path of a fine paintbrush, gently murmuring as it cascades downhill. Every stone, every knotted and twisted root or branch has a perfect place, and a perfect purpose.
By that logic, we can also cultivate a greater appreciation not just for the grandeur of great golf course architecture, but also the simplicity and sincerity of the daily-fee public track on the other side of town. Yes, even the “quirky” one that we never play well at, and we think was poorly conceived (I’m looking at you, Fairfield Greens).
And by that logic, we can hopefully give some amount of acknowledgement to another simple, humble golf (golf-adjacent?) blog such as this one. It’s nothing new – remember, there isn’t – but maybe you can see the design in it; maybe there’s something for you to gain from it, if you stick around for a while. That’s my prayer.
Grace and peace with you all!