Attitude Adjustment and Clouds

So I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, but I’m thinking I just might be ready for a new attitude.

For the last several decades I’ve been able to write, smile, and talk a decent positive game. Shucks, there are dentists walking the land, even as I apply four fingers to the keyboard, who used to call me Smilin’ Jack.

Maybe it was yet another chilly crummy gray rainy day in SoCal that triggered my taking a decent look into the mirror (do ears and noses look larger than they really are?) And it might’ve been the 7:50am first tee starting time and some runaway misplaced optimism that turned out being the tipping point. And why is it when meteorologists channel me through my phone, a 30% chance of precipitation can become 100% while arriving several hours early? Lately, every weekend.

And, just so you know, I literally preach optimism first thing in the morning Monday through Friday to DDS/DMD-types from Puerto Rico to Slave Lake and Seattle to the Florida Keys.

When I got home and looked into the mirror, I saw the soggy resemblance of someone who’d gone whale watching without the benefit of a boat. After two good drives and some smiley exchanged golf pleasantries with playing partner strangers and one friend, I again failed to make it past the third hole without dropping a bomb, characterized by the #6 letter in the English-speaking alphabet. A few holes later, I was taking the long walk back to the clubhouse, relieved that I’d taken my pneumonia shot at Kaiser and hadn’t totally lost my grip on anything more than my slippery driver.

Earlier, as I was traveling out to the course, a mist began appearing on the windshield about halfway there. A few months earlier, my golf buddy reported the course was open during an early AM Saturday downpour. On arrival, the monsoon was reduced 80%, and after a couple of holes, the sun came out. My usually semi-effective self-talk spoke to the prospect of a behavior pattern forming just between me and the clouds; since then, the only pattern that’s materialized has been a storm system every Saturday.

And when you step back and realize that whom you’re looking at has either lost touch with reality (communicating with clouds) or needs some serious anger/alphabet management almost two years into “retirement”, maybe 46 years of dentistry wasn’t enough? Yikes, being a practicing dentist was how I retained my sanity? Who knew?

And I totally subscribe to the Nelson Mandela quote that, “I never lose, I either win or learn.” But it might’ve been easier for Mandela to see the silver lining after spending 27-years in prison; he learned how to become president. I wonder if President Mandela communicated with clouds. And no, I’m not suggesting 46 years of dentistry is the equivalent of 27 years in prison.

Since, these days, it rains all the time in SoCal and I love to read, I’ve been alternating Italian crime novels and self-improvement stuff like the book, The Gap and the Gain. The message in the Gap and the Gain is to look back and appreciate past gains to help fuel continued growth, rather than being discouraged by the gap existing between present accomplishments and long range, sometimes idealistic goals.

What drives me back to Italian novels, aside from the food, the wine, the ladies, and European trash talking is the question of my goals; seems like some of them, like the SoCal clouds, either give me a glance and an eyeroll, or are somewhere beyond idealistic.

So when considering reading and writing every day are goals I put onto paper as I prepared to sell my dental practice, the Los Angeles county monsoons have been helpful. Nothing like reading a book in a cozy chair next to a crackling fireplace (even though lighting mine up scares the living crap outta me) or writing to the gentle sound of raindrops.

And walking every day (even in the rain), writing down ideas, and finding a coffee shop with a roof, and where everyone knows your name is like living the dream (I had been watching others live while I drove to work at 6am Monday through Thursday for 46 years.) I’ve been a “morning person” since way before the Carter Administration. And you can dress to walk in the rain- but not to play golf and hang onto the freakin’ golf club all at the same time!

And maybe the most idealistic, unrealistic, and delusional goal of ‘em all is me being the oldest guy EVER to become a scratch golfer. Give me a second: I need some recovery time after sharing that one right out in print.

The concept was to take advantage of my new opportunity to practice…daily. John Lennon once wrote about life being what happens to you when you’re busy making plans. With me, it’s more like purpose is what happens to you when you’re busy saying yes…and involving oneself in projects and plans that make a difference for others.

And I’m not saying that the golf goal is ridiculous, although my game over the past 4-5 years is a video that would give Charles Barkley newfound confidence. I played golf in high school, was once a 4-handicap, and shot a 68 when I was 69.

To paraphrase Joni Mitchell, I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now, and from up and down, and still somehow, I still love clouds. And okay, I’ve accepted I can’t communicate with ‘em and while that might not qualify as a breakthrough, it’s still good news. But if I don’t start hitting the driving range with some level of consistency, it could be those rain clouds might be the source of a beautiful friendship.