One Swing Philosophy — What Golf Taught Me About Life

This morning, while walking with Ruby and Rich, I suddenly felt tears in my eyes. Every morning, they still bother me. “Let’s go for a walk!” They wake me up, ask me to hurry, and remind me again if I take too long. Usually, I think of it as just part of my daily routine. But this morning, I suddenly felt grateful for it. I looked at them and thought, How long will they be able to walk beside me like this? It has already been three months since Ruby fell off a cliff. At that time, I was too busy trying to save her, taking her to the hospital, and treating her wounds to really think about what had happened. I only had one thought: I had to save her. Recently, one of my old blog posts became popular again and moved up the list. So I read it again. It felt like the person I was three months ago and the person I am today were sitting across from each other, with that old post between us. And this time, I realized just how serious the situation had been. There were rocks below the cliff, th...

This morning, I was sitting in my living room, working on my notebook. I was quietly focused on my computer when I suddenly felt something. I looked up. Ruby was sitting on her bed, watching me. It wasn't unusual. Ruby often watches me like that. But this time, I stopped what I was doing and looked back into her eyes. We just looked at each other for a brief moment. Maybe a minute. Nothing special was happening. She didn't want food. She didn't want to go for a walk. She wasn't asking me for anything. She was simply looking at me. And I looked back at her warmly. Then I turned back to my computer and continued writing. About a minute later, I happened to look over at her again. Ruby's head had slowly fallen down. She was already asleep. I smiled. That's all that happened. But somehow, that one little moment touched me deeply. To be honest, I wasn't always someone who particularly loved dogs. When Ruby and Rich first became part of my l...

To be honest, when I first started this blog, I had a simple goal. I wanted to become a popular blogger. There is nothing wrong with that. We all enjoy knowing that our stories are being read and appreciated. But somewhere along the way, something quietly changed inside me. These days, I no longer write to become popular. I write because I enjoy it. Writing has become a conversation with myself, almost like keeping a journal. Instead of trying to create impressive stories, I simply write about whatever feels real that day. Some days it's golf. Some days it's English. Some days it's just an ordinary moment that makes me smile. I've realized that forcing a story never feels as satisfying as letting one naturally appear. Maybe that also reflects my personality. I've always enjoyed laughing, finding small joys, and keeping life lighthearted. So I decided to stop trying to write the "perfect" blog post. I would rather write an honest one. At sixty, becoming a f...

Every now and then, I accidentally drop one of my dogs' leashes during our walk. Whenever that happens, Ruby and Rich react in completely different ways. Rich becomes the happiest dog in the world. Dragging his long leash behind him, he takes off like a free spirit, running from one place to another as if he has been waiting for this moment all day. At first, I always worry about two things. First, I hope no one gets scared when they see a large dog running freely. Rich has never shown aggression toward people, but I know not everyone is comfortable around big dogs. Second, I worry that his long leash might get caught on a tree, a fence, or a rock. If that happened, he might not be able to free himself. The funny part is that Rich never really runs away. About twenty or thirty minutes later, he always comes home by himself. During those twenty minutes, I have absolutely no chance of catching him. Even if I hold his favorite treats in my hand, freedom is simply more exci...

For a long time, I thought I was the one taking care of Rich and Ruby. After all, I feed them, take them for walks, clean up after them, and make sure they stay healthy. That sounds like a responsible dog owner, doesn't it? But today, I realized something. Maybe they have been taking care of me all along. This morning, Rich woke me up at 4:30 a.m. and asked to go outside. Usually, I would get up and take him for a walk. But I was unusually tired. "Rich, let's sleep one more hour," I told him. To my surprise, he quietly came back inside and waited. No barking. No repeated requests. Just patience. When I was finally ready, we went out together. As I walked through the cool morning air, I found myself feeling grateful. Not because I was taking care of Rich. Because Rich had taken care of me. Ruby has her own gentle way of communicating. When she wants to go outside, she doesn't make a fuss. She simply opens her eyes, looks at me, and slowly wags her tail while lying ...

Some days go just as planned. Most days don't. There is one morning routine I always hope to complete: an early walk with my two dogs, a simple breakfast, practice at the driving range, and a refreshing swim. It sounds like an ordinary routine, but it isn't easy to complete. There are always other appointments, unexpected errands, or mornings when I simply don't have enough energy. Even though I want to do it every day, I usually manage to complete the whole routine only two or three times a week. That was why today felt different. By lunchtime, I realized I had finished everything I had hoped to do that morning. The temperature had already climbed above 32°C, and I didn't feel like cooking. So I prepared a simple lunch: tofu, seasoned perilla leaves from my garden, some sour kimchi, and a can of beer. It was one of the most satisfying lunches I've had in a while. Not because the food was special. Not because of the beer. But because I had already lived the morning ...