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Let’s be honest. Most of us suck at golf. Like, really suck. Not in a dramatic, shank-it-into-the-woods kind of way. More like a consistent, ‘what-am-I-even-doing-out-here’ kind of suck. You think you’re going to have a decent round, maybe even flirt with par, and then BAM! You’re hacking it out of the rough, leaving yourself a 50-yard pitch from the wrong side of the fairway. It’s enough to make you want to throw your clubs in the nearest water hazard. But here’s the damn kicker: that sucking? That’s where the real lessons are.
The guy who shoots par every time, the scratch golfer? He enjoys a nice walk. He thinks about strategy, the sun, the perfectly manicured greens. He’ll never understand the sheer, unadulterated misery of walking from 80 yards left of the fairway after your first shot, only to find yourself *even further left* after your second. He doesn’t know the gut-wrenching feeling of realizing your chances of par have evaporated, and you now need a miracle — a moment of pure, unadulterated golfing genius — just to avoid a triple bogey. And he certainly doesn’t know the walk of shame after topping your ball five feet in front of you from that same impossible lie, then punching it 50 yards right of the green, all before he’s even considered his approach shot.
What happens in the moments between those colossal screw-ups? What goes on inside your head, your heart, your very soul as you stare down the massive chasm between what you *want* to be and what you *are* on the golf course? The scratch player misses this. He doesn’t get how golf can become something so much bigger than just trying to master a swing or hit a score. He doesn’t understand the quiet act of defiance that is choosing to enjoy yourself, even when the universe is clearly telling you to go home and re-evaluate your life choices.
This constant, unyielding failure – this ‘sucking’ – turns out to be golf’s greatest gift. For the skilled player, golf is a puzzle, something manageable. But for the rest of us? Golf is an ocean. It’s vast, ephemeral, and frankly, absurd. It’s not just a game. It’s *the* game. The entire damn universe seems to reside within it, just like a baby’s first cry, a first kiss, or the opening chords of a song that hits you right in the soul.
It wasn’t until I stumbled across some profound thoughts on golf that it hit me: my sucking wasn’t some pointless exercise. There are thinkers who’ve long meditated on golf as a kind of cure-all, and their words illuminate something I’d always felt but never connected: Golf is a reflection of *you*. Not necessarily your skill level or your score, but your fundamental disposition.
Lately, I’ve been fascinated by the golf-infused wisdom of a more contemporary philosopher, a musician named Noah Kahan. You might know him. His latest album has been everywhere, and surprisingly, he’s been dropping some serious golf insights on his press tour. It’s not that Kahan’s interest in the deeper questions of golf is unusual; if you’ve ever listened to his music, you know he’s always been about showing up, imperfections and all. His song “Forever” is practically a golfer’s anthem about sticking with it, even when things are broken. But his specific focus on golf’s role in life’s big picture? That was a mystery until he started talking about how damn important golf is to his life, his mind, his whole damn psyche.
In a world full of people telling you what you want to hear, golf is one of the few places where even the most successful among us can absolutely suck. It’s a place where honesty and humility can actually show up, and you can deal with it. It’s rare to hear a celebrity talk about golf not just as a hobby, but as some kind of spiritual anchor. For Kahan, it started with a professional crisis. He was staring down the barrel of following up a massively successful album, and creatively, he was completely burned out. Things got so bad, he seriously considered quitting music for a while, just to take a job filling divots at a local golf course.
“I was just looking for something I could do for the next few years until I figured things out,” he said. “Music was just making me so unhappy that I was like, ‘Why am I doing this?’ That’s a hole many of us weekend hackers know all too well. The thing you loved turned into something you hated. And there was no easy escape. Every time he looked at his phone, there were messages from strangers, either loving his work or hating it, or just waiting for whatever was next. He felt like that external feedback was messing with him. Some days, his entire emotional well-being was tied to what some random person on the internet thought. Other days, he’d just shut it all out, even if some of it might have been useful.
Then, he found his breakthrough. And it came from a most unexpected place: a golf lesson. Talking about the mental shift that fueled his latest album, Kahan shared a piece of swing advice that was surprisingly profound. He described it as wanting “a bird in your hand that you’re not going to crush, but you won’t let get away.”
Now, he was talking about the perfect amount of grip pressure in a golf swing. But those words? They resonated instantly with the interviewer, who recognized the analogy from his own training with Buddhist monks. The Buddha, he explained, always spoke of the middle path. Don’t hold too tight. Don’t hold too loosely. How do you hold something… beautifully? This ‘middle way’ is central to Buddhist teachings. It’s about finding a balance, avoiding the extremes of indulgence and sacrifice. Buddhist elders often use the bird analogy to illustrate how to approach life’s challenges with equal weight.
As Kahan and his interviewer discussed this, it struck me: they were defining something fundamental about golf. Its imperfection. Even the best day for a skilled golfer is littered with mistakes. And even the worst round for a hacker will have moments of pure brilliance. Mastery isn’t found on the scorecard or in the bottom of the cup. It’s found in that moment of acceptance, the space *between* those outcomes. It’s not unlike what the legendary character Shivas Irons said in the classic golf book, *Golf in the Kingdom*: “You think too hard and try too much. Let the nothingness into your shots.”
Shivas was talking about the ancient practice of meditation. And guess what? Kahan has spent time in that arena too. “Meditation is so powerful, but it’s so difficult,” he admits. “It’s like golf. It’s hard — and it takes a while.”
And sometimes, you suck. You just do. But maybe, just maybe, that’s the entire damn point. Golf forces you to confront your limitations, your frustrations, your ego. It strips away the pretense and shows you who you are when things aren’t going your way. It teaches you patience, resilience, and the quiet dignity of continuing to play, even when you’re playing badly.
So, the next time you’re out on the course and you’re just… sucking… don’t get too pissed off. Take a breath. Remember the bird. Remember the middle path. Maybe, just maybe, you’re getting exactly the lesson you need, not just for golf, but for life itself. Embrace the suck. It’s where the real growth happens. If you’re looking for more on the mental side of golf, check out resources on mindfulness and acceptance in sports. It might just change your game, and your outlook.