Golfing with Monkeys

Before I get to monkey golf, here's a story for V. who liked my comment about home in the previous post (thanks, V!):  An older woman goes to her travel agent and asks him to book her a trip to India".  "Oy," he says, "such a long trip, why don't you just go to Florida like you usually do?" "No," the woman replies, "I want to see the guru."  The travel agent complies and plans her trip. Along the way, which is long and arduous (long plane ride, followed by a long dusty train ride, a bus trip through the mountains, and more) she meets many people.  All those she meets question her trip: it's such a long voyage and this particular guru only allows his visitors to say three words to him.  "It's okay," she tells all who pass along this information.  Finally, she's at the guru's cave, she's about to go in and meet with him. The guru's helper reminds her, "Just three words. You're only allowed to say three words to him."  "It's okay," the woman says and into the cave she goes.  When she gets inside, she looks at the guru and says, "Sheldon, come home."

I heard that story today on a Tara Brach (www.imcw.org) podcast although I've heard it before.

Here's a bit of history, also from a Tara's podcast ("Golfing with Monkeys"): after the British had taken over India, they longed for some recreation in their new colony.  So they built some golf courses.  However, the course in Calcutta was near a wildlife reserve.  While the Brits were golfing, monkeys would come onto the course, pick up and move the balls that were in play. Of course, this annoyed the players mightily and they sought solutions to this problem.  First, they erected fences around the course, but they found that no matter how high the fence, the monkeys could get over it.  Then, they tried relocating the monkeys, but for every monkey they relocated, another appeared.  Lastly, they tried distracting the monkeys, but there was nothing the monkeys enjoyed more than watching the humans go crazy when their little balls were disturbed.  Finally, the British decided to issue new rules for the game of golf when played in Calcutta: you were obliged to play the ball wherever a monkey put it.  

That's the game for me!  And, frankly, that's the game for all of us, because that's the game of life. The monkeys are constantly picking up our balls and moving them around.  We try to control the monkeys, but it's impossible.  The only sane thing to do, the only thing, sane or not, that makes any sense at all, is to accept that the monkeys are going to move the balls and to play the balls wherever they put them. 

Sometimes the monkeys throw the balls gently and sometimes they throw with force.  Getting caught in a traffic jam is a gentle throw.  Getting into a car accident is a harder throw.  I'm sure you get the picture.

In any event, and not to ruin a good story, as I'm sure you've gotten it by now, I think that to live well one must play the ball wherever it's thrown.  Jumping up and down and screaming at the monkeys won't stop them, nor will putting up fences, or the rest of it.  

Enjoy the game.