When I’m on the course, I enjoy playing with golf balls of different colors. Not only are they much easier to find when my drive doesn’t land on the fairway, they’re fun. The most fun golf ball I owned was bright yellow with a picture of the cartoon character Spongebob. My golf partner, Larry, found it one day in a wooded area and gave it to me.
For months, I’d place the ball on the tee, saying you know what to do, Spongebob. I was careful not to tee him up on a hole where I thought I might lose him. The couple of times he ended up in a gulley or under a tree, Larry always seemed to be able to locate Spongebob.
Until two weeks ago. I hit a nice drive on the 16th hole, but it bounced left, down the slope, and into the weeds. We searched, but to no avail. We didn’t want to cause a delay for other golfers, so it was time to surrender Spongebob. Perhaps someday another golfer would come upon him and have as much fun as I did.
Surrender can be challenging. For some, it’s easy. For others like me, not so much. Attachments form quickly and letting go can feel painful or empty—especially when releasing loved ones or facing challenging relationship dynamics.
Larry shared his perspective one day, using a term he called spiritual mechanics. He described the comings and goings of life as far less personal or emotional than we make them out to be. It’s more like how the stock market corrects itself every so often, he said. People analyze the data, but basically the ups and downs of the stock market are emotionally driven—fear of loss and hope of gain. But the adjustment is not; it is more related to the spiritual nature of balance. Perhaps because of the emotions, mechanics have to come in periodically to equilibrate.
This happens in relationships, too, he added, when certain energies need to balance out. We analyze the causes, most often resulting in blame, but it’s just a necessary shift. All energy has to move like water seeking it’s own level. Analysis and emotions are filters of perception we use to explain these mechanics to ourselves.
I found this viewpoint fascinating and chose to apply it to a business situation I was facing. I decided to write an email where I would surrender my own hurt feelings, ignore all the potential drama, and simply state the facts of my request for future collaboration. The tone would be kind and professional, and I’d move forward with grace and tact without reference to the past.
I’ll share the outcome of this approach in a future blog. Meanwhile, two weeks after surrendering my favorite golf ball, Larry’s wife texted to say they found Spongebob on the 7th hole! How he got from the 16th to the 7th is a story in itself, I’m sure. But isn’t it nice to be rebalanced?