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Golf for
Enlightenment: The Seven Lessons for the Game of Life by Deepak Chopra Rating: DNR (Do Not Read) |
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Click on title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Lights Out I admit to killing two birds with one
stone by reading Deepak Chopra’s latest book, Golf for
Enlightenment. I had not read a Deepak Chopra book before. Now I’ve
gotten that out of my system. Second, I try to read a golf book now and again
to see if I’m interested enough to take up the game. I got that out of my
system, too. Here’s
an excerpt from Lesson 5 (of 7): “Winning is Passion with Detachment” pp.
134-141 (I skipped over the
infuriating fable that begins each lesson): Playing the Game The fifth lesson is about power. There is a special
kind of power that golf calls for, one that swings from unleashed might to
delicate finesse in a matter of seconds. A big drive off the tee maximizes
the largest muscle groups in the body. Once you step onto the putting
surface, however, throttling down this output runs into obstacles: nerves,
self-doubt, and uncertainty raise up bad memories of putts gone wrong, while
at the physical level the body finds it hard to calm down when serenity is
most needed. In a way this is a glorious dilemma. The same power
that runs the universe is coursing through you right now. In the softest shot
using the lightest hands, you are commanding forces born in the Big Bang. The
Indian spiritual masters must have known this, because they made life energy
sacred and gave it the name Shakti. Life energy comes from the place inside
yourself where peace passes understanding, as Jesus taught. It is the same
place where all things can be accomplished, even moving mountains. This might
sound very far removed from everyday life, but Shakti isn't. Its touch can be
felt in a dozen ways, beginning with the soft, streaming energy we experience
at peak moments or the certainty that comes at moments of clarity. Golf
is about energy control. On long drives, your energy has to be unleashed or
you will have some long second shots, making it tough to reach the green in
regulation. On 10-foot putts, energy has to be reined in or you will run by
the hole 5 feet. Instead of staying with the mind as it says, "I have to
give this everything I've got" or "I have to barely touch the
ball," you can go deeper, to that place where peace is married to power. In
his early days Jack Nicklaus was famous for not responding to the crowd's
enthusiasm. Videos show a grim determination in his face combined with
alertness and great focus. Is this Shakti? Yes, and so is the soft look of
communion that other players have when they are perfectly attuned to their
game. Each person puts his own stamp on life energy as it flows through.
Shakti, although a goddess, isn't the same as a person's feminine side. In
both men and women there is a guiding force that shapes life into exactly the
activity that is perfectly right for who they are. I once read that in every
lifetime there is a high point, a single aspiration or triumph, that the
entire lifetime is centered on. We promote as heroes those who cross the
Atlantic in solo flight or set an Olympic record because they so obviously
achieve what they aspire to. They are more than heroes, however: Such people
have harnessed Shakti to achieve a major goal in life. We are all meant to
follow Shakti to the core of our selves; we were created to achieve our
aspirations rather than simply circle them. We've all touched, however
briefly, a place that says, "I am doing exactly what I should be doing at this very
moment." At such a moment you are directly connected to your Shakti. Like the energy harnessed
in the stars, Shakti cannot be created or destroyed. It can only be
transformed. Your body, in fact, is nothing less than a transformer, a
mechanism for taking the energy born at the moment of creation and dispersing
it this instant. Your mind can't possibly decide on the literally billions of
transformations under way. With your next meal, trillions of new molecules
will enter your bloodstream, bearing minuscule packets of chemical energy
that must be either stored, combined, suppressed, unleashed, dissipated, or
conserved—and the ability to turn this firestorm of raw power into a
beautifully ordered structure belongs to Shakti. Without Shakti the sugar
that feeds your brain would be the inert sugar in your coffee; without Shakti
the oxygen molecules sustaining your heartbeat would be as passive as gas in
a balloon. Shakti combines passion
and detachment. Winning through detachment sounds like a strange concept, one that
puts many people off. They automatically equate detachment with indifference
or passivity. Yet you must detach from winning in order to win. Some players
describe detachment in other terms such as being "centered" or
"getting out of your own way." They all come down to disarming the
ego. The ego can't help but look outside for validation. It needs victory and
feels depleted without it. In all sports there is a world of difference between the
roaring crowds and the lonely locker room. Does a spiritual person not care
about this? Is it enough just to be at peace within, regardless of how the
game turns out? If that were true, no one would play the game. We would all
seek out silent retreats and meditate. Winning can be spiritual,
because not just the ego is satisfied. Every experience nourishes the soul.
Winning can be sweet or it can be bitter; the difference lies solely in what
happens inside. The soul wants sweet experiences, but it learns from bitter
ones. As you weave your way between these two poles, you grow spiritually.
Once you appreciate the emotional drama being played out, it's no wonder that
golf pierces to the soul. At any moment defeat can be snatched from the jaws
of victory, yet the most impossible shots can also go right. The whole game
is like life condensed to its essence, lightning caught in a bottle. Matching
up ego and soul is one of the
major goals of spirituality. The greatest joy in life comes when inner and outer experiences match each other. Then winning feels like a sublime event. It doesn't fall flat or leave you exhausted. It tastes just the way you dreamed it would. The matchup happens through a process called surrender. As everyone knows, surrender means giving up. In spiritual terms we change this simply to giving. You give of yourself without any selfish desire to take back. I once read that anyone who truly desires to take nothing from others will have the whole universe at his disposal. With this attitude in mind, surrender comes naturally. It isn't necessary to fight against the ego's urge to control, manipulate, and cling. Consider putting, which
has always been the control freaks downfall. Putting puts to the test your
ego's claim that it knows how to win. Winning isn't something that can be
known. The outcome of any event belongs completely to the unknown. Only when
you give up and surrender to the putt does it start pouring into the hole as
if drawn by a magnet or a string. Under those magical conditions, even
distance doesn't seem to matter. A 30-footer will go in as surely as a
2-footer. I'm sure you've seen TV
shots of impossibly long putts that don't just go in but seem to be drawn in
as if by an invisible string. Sometimes this string is all but visible to the
player. He will start to stride after the ball, certain that its course is
completely true. We all feel the thrill of magic watching these rare moments,
and the networks love to show them over and over. What dawned on me after I went through my own futile attempts to
control putts, making the odd 15-footer but never twice in a row, missing too
many 2-footers to the point of utter disbelief, was this: If I couldn't
control the magic, I could give in to it. So now, after taking my stance and
gripping the
putter the way I was taught, I take one look at the cup and inside myself I
say to the hole, "I'm giving my ballto you." Only then do I hit it and
just let go. I trust that there is always a string tied between the ball and
the cup. The string isn't a mystery, it is a form of exact coordination that
can be organized only by a higher intelligence. Putting is one of those deep
riddles best solved by knowing you can't solve it. When you truly know that,
the door of simplicity opens. You perform the necessary setup without worry,
repetition, and fuss. (Putts repay overattention by going more wrong than
ever, so being simple in your setup doesn't lose anything, no matter where
the ball goes.) Then you give yourself to Shakti. And she will step in. They
say Shakti is a she because for every god who abides in silence there must be
a goddess to dance with him, which is to say that there must be love. It
might sound embarrassing to others that I putt with love, but I do. I want
the goddess to help me, and being wise, she responds only to love. Surrender
flowers here, where there is nothing to fear, nothing to control, nothing to
judge. Perhaps you can only give in to the magic 5 percent of the time
today, but tomorrow it could be 10 percent. Shakti doesn't come and go. She is always dancing. She is dancing
around the hole coaxing the next putt to go in. What if it doesn't? Your
allegiance shouldn't waver. Don't be tempted to employ the endless tweaking
that lures so many discouraged golfers. Instead tell yourself, "I asked
a goddess to organize this putt the best way possible, and for this moment in
my game, the best way possible came true." Applied to Life How can you woo Shakti and
make her stay with you? For this there is no technique. In various schools of
Yoga, years can be spent in disciplined breathing known as Pranayama, whose
purpose is to make a fiery energy rush up the spine, an energy known as
Shakti. Once it reaches the brain, the fiery energy sets it on fire. Other
teachings awaken Shakti through long meditation, leaving almost no time for
anything else. And those on the path of
the devotee set up altars and worship Shakti, coaxing her presence with
offerings of flowers and incense. I mention this to underscore that Shakti is more elusive than any
other aspect of spiritual life. Therefore I believe the simplest way to woo
her is through faith. Have faith that you are seen and known and guided by a
presence you might never catch with your five senses. This presence has cared
for you since before time. It knows what you need to do next; therefore if
you substitute faith for other ways of making decisions—ways based on
calculation, worry, control, neediness, and ego—the way of Shakti will be
there in all its power. I am not being deliberately vague. Surrender is not
an action that follows a plan or diagram. Every day you have to let out your
faith another inch, saying, "The answer is already here. I am willing to
watch it unfold." Having this attitude pays off dividends over time,
because the power you are calling on is so immense that it can only be
invited in by degrees. As one master wryly said, "I could open up your
Shakti in thirty days, but it would take thirty men to hold you down."
Be patient. Know that this all-knowing power is real and that it has the
intent of pouring through you, making you the expression of the highest aims
of spirit. With this attitude, faith forges a link to the miraculous as
nothing else can. If you’ve never read a Chopra book, don’t
start now. Golf for
Enlightenment will knock your
lights out. Unless, of course, you enjoyed the excerpt, and are hungry for
more. In which case, I may knock your lights out if you come near me with
this drivel. Steve Hopkins, May 27, 2003 |
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ã 2003 Hopkins and Company, LLC The
recommendation rating for this book appeared in the June 2003
issue of Executive
Times URL
for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Golf
for Enlightenment.htm For
Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins
& Company, LLC • 723 North Kenilworth Avenue • Oak Park, IL 60302 E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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