Episode 27 - Carribean Golf

We stick a feather in our hat and get caught up in the world of Monk Parakeets on teh golf course and beyond. How wonderful that the Universe, and the good people of the northern climes, provide what is needed.

A transcript of this Haiku Life podcast together with photos will be available on the mygreatergood.com website.

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Transcript

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Hello and welcome to the Haiku Live Podcast, where we take a little exploration into some abbreviated moments. Haiku is a Japanese form of poetry. It is traditionally focused on nature and captures a fleeting moment within the space of three lines and a 5-7-5 syllable count. In a world so overwhelmingly immersive, a haiku is a moment of respite. These haiku are mine, moments of life, thoughts in the ether. This is the fifth episode in the Puerto Rico series Feather in my cap Doves Flappy Parrots Screechy Caribbean Golf Caribbean Golf And as I say it I'm not sure if I am pronouncing it in the American or the South African way Like garage Is it garage or garage? Produce or produce Envelope or envelope Caribbean Caribbean I don't know anymore But I digress Caribbean golf It sounds fantastic, doesn't it? But we're not playing, we're spectating. Ah, even better you might think But you'd be wrong. We have watched Connor play competitive golf now at D one College level for sixteen years. There's a special kind of golf parent stress and we are not immune. We look back at the early years and shudder at how we allowed ourselves to become so emotionally entangled in the stress and the drama of the US kids' golf years. And over the years we have evolved to the point as golf parents we are able to detach now from outcome. We can watch around and not let our emotions agitate the ebb and the flow of the game. It is a practiced skill and for the most part we turn our attention above and about the sky, the trees, the birds to settle a rising anxiety or calm and unrelenting nerve. And there are plenty of birds on the Dorado Beach golf course. I find a feather and stick it in my hat. It is a weird little golf tradition I started when caddying in the younger years for Robbie, our younger son. Being mum on the bag for him was never a walk in the park, but we share a connection with nature, and when a feather would mysteriously fall in our path, Robbie would stick it in his hat. Searching for anything encouraging to come out of one of his rounds, I would view the feather in our path as a message from the universe. It's going to be okay. Do birds ever wonder if everything is going to be okay? I don't think so. Birds live truly in the present. They adapt and evolve as circumstances change around them. And my don't they let us know all about it? Noisy as anything, birds. Constant chatter, calling, warning. None more noisy on this golf course as the monk parakeets. Swarming, squawking, clouds of shimmering green. How wonderfully Caribbean? I find out sometime later that established wild populations of monk parakeets are also found in New York City, Chicago, and areas of Connecticut and Massachusetts. They survive winter because they live in large communal nests, elaborately constructed with sticks and multiple chambers, often around electrical transformers. They rely heavily on backyard feeders, which the good people of the northern climbs obviously keep well stocked. A feather falls from the sky and calms my anxiety. Bird food appears on the feeder, and the parrots survive. Somehow, wherever we are, whatever game of golf or life we play, with a little luck, with a little help from unknown sources, we tend to get what we need. Thank you for listening to today's Haiku Life Podcast. You can follow me on Facebook and Instagram. A transcript of this podcast can also be found on the mygreatergood.com website. See you later.