Favorite chair – to desk – to favorite chair – to bathroom – to favorite chair – to kitchen – to favorite chair – to bedroom – to bathroom – to favorite chair . . .
Creating the well-worn paths of our lives.
Add a T.V. and computer and we claim our wilderness. Cat stain on a rug . . . intrigue. A fond memory and there is a sunset. The A/C kicking on at 6:15 is the sunrise.
An errant shot on the golf course and we find ourselves five feet into the out-of-bounds area under trees and in bushes. Shadows mix with sunlight that move back and forth gently in the wind. Twigs crackle under the weight of our footsteps. Thick, uncut grass and leaves are the carpet. The intensity changes, it’s a bit cooler, a million shades of green, irregular shapes of blue make up the ceiling. Some unknown little creature scampers past you almost unseen. The smell of freshness and growth is sensed. Then, the thought of a lost golf ball.
Then, the irony of paying a penalty for that experience – five feet askew from normalcy, five feet from well-worn paths.
Not enough time to even taste the wilderness. No time to even realize a new world. So close to ‘reality’ and yet so far.
You decide on a six-iron and drop another ball. Your partner speaks and your side-excursion evaporate, leaving only some mysterious vacuum to be revisited at a more opportune time.
Out-of-bounds; where you lose the game of golf . . .
but find your soul.