I have a confession to make: I don’t really like golf.  I mean, it’s okay.  If I were forced to spend an afternoon playing golf, I wouldn’t hate it.  I’d probably enjoy being outdoors and socializing as I made my way through 18 holes.  But I don’t love it.  The few times I’ve played a full round of golf, I got pretty bored by about the 11th hole.  Golfing is okay, but it wouldn’t be my first choice for how I want to spend my free time and money.

You’re probably thinking, so what? Why does anyone care whether you like golf?  Well, for several years, I thought I should like golf.  Or at least I should know how to play, and have the necessary equipment.  When we were in law school, my friend Abby and I took golf lessons.  We were both pretty terrible, although we had fun learning.  We did it because we thought that was what lawyers did.  If we were going to be working for law firms, we figured we would need to golf.  The golf course is where deals are made, right?  Golfing buddies become clients, and clients like their lawyers to take them golfing.  If we were going to be successful lawyers, we’d better get used to spending our weekends golfing.

I did play in a few tournaments when I worked for my first law firm, including a women’s golf outing with partners and firm clients.  But there were plenty of attorneys at the firm who didn’t participate in these tournaments, and you know what?  It was fine.  They brought in clients through other means.  They met people doing activities they enjoyed.  As far as I know, no client ever decided to go elsewhere because a lawyer didn’t play golf.

When I signed up for those lessons, a got a hand-me-down old set of golf clubs that I augmented with a few clubs from eBay and a nice driver I received as a gift.  I bought a bag for my clubs, a pair of cleats, and a glove.  I moved that set of clubs around with me from apartment to house, state to state.  They now sit in my basement.  I haven’t touched them in about five years.  I still have them because I keep telling myself that one day maybe I’ll want to golf again.  What if I get an invitation to a charity tournament or something?

I think it’s finally time for me to let go of the golf clubs.  Not only are they literal baggage, unnecessarily taking up space in my basement, but they represent an emotional weight as well.  When we surround ourselves with reminders of what we think we should be, and when we hold on to the detritus of long-abandoned projects, would-have-been hobbies and erstwhile goals, it’s a lot harder to move forward.  

My inner critic sees these things and whispers disapproval: you should really go golfing again.  You bought all that stuff and then gave up, just like you gave up on learning French and writing a novel.  You never stick with anything.  But golf is simply not a priority for me, and it never will be.  And I’m perfectly fine with that.  I have other goals and dreams, and these old golf clubs are not serving me anymore.  In a way, they’re actively working against me.  So it’s time for them to go.

When I was in college studying art, I had a professor who used to talk about how artists sometimes feel like we need permission to do something different.  We get stuck in a mindset of art needing to look a certain way, to fit into prescribed conventions.  Discovering the work of other historical and contemporary artists who innovated or took risks gives us permission to try something new.  Sometimes we don’t trust our instincts, or our fears inhibit us, and we need permission to be bold.

In case you need it, I’m granting you permission.  Permission to let go of what you think you should be, or do, or what you once thought your life was supposed to look like.  Here is your permission to get rid of your own set of golf clubs.  What are you wasting your time and energy doing just because you think you should?

Don’t beat yourself up about the costs you’ve already sunk.  You don’t need to keep paying for it.  Just let go and move on.  Unburden yourself from whatever clutter you’ve accumulated trying to satisfy other people’s expectations.  You need that space for who you are becoming — and for who you really are, right now.

And on that note, is anyone interested in buying a set of golf clubs?

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