Golf in the Kingdom

7th hole at The Prince 

My guru has advised me to think negatively.

Before you say, Isn't enough negativity in the world right now, let me explain.

Here at Puamana we are on the edge of a series of sink holes. During the incredible rains of April 2018, when slightly less than 50-inches rained down during a 24-hour period, tons of rushing water opened up cracks in the top soil and deeper into the earth on the sixth fairway of the majestic Prince Golf Course.

Think negative space. Black holes. Einstein's formula.

This surreal golf course has been a ghost course for a while, long before the sink holes, which have recently been under "repair" in hopes of re-opening the course.

Stories about resurrecting the course have proliferated from golf disciples as fervent prayers longing for the return of The Prince.

Since social distancing has taken hold, random walkers such as myself can be seen walking near the sixth, seventh and eighth holes that form an isolated triangle that slithers out to a precipice above the ocean.

During recent, heavy rain showers I deigned to walk these three holes in contemplation and hope for better days.

My rumination was disrupted by a soft thud. I looked over to see a white golf ball roll to a stop. Looking back I saw a man climb into a golf cart and head my way.

Rain was suddenly light and misty, clouds above grey, I could smell moisture rising from the earth.

He pulled up in his cart, at first appearing as any duffer might look: baseball-style cap, shorts that covered his thighs. He gave me a nod and I was struck by his blue-green eyes peering below thick brows that through the mist took the shape of two narrow canoes flared at each end.

"Nice shot," I said.

He nodded, again. "Thanks."

"I didn't know the course was open," I said.

He just smiled. A dark cloud above us burst. Rain fell like golf balls.

"Like a ride?" he offered.

Adhering to social distance I declined.

"Thanks. I can walk"

"It's your game."

When I arrived at the top of the hill overlooking the cove below and the reef beyond, he had already completed his shot.

"Want to give her a try?" he said.

He went to his bag and pulled out a metal-wood.

"It's sanitized," he said.

I was drenched. But I took the club.

From my pocket I pulled a Titleist golf ball that I had found. Teed it up. Addressed the ball. And swung. The shot required a 200-yard carry over a jungly swail to a pristine, green dance floor.

The ball disappeared in front of a backdrop of white clouds.

"Meet you at the green," he said.

When I reached the green, he was not there. He had disappeared. Mysterioso.

I never found my ball. My last resort was to look in the hole. It was empty. Except for a note scratched on the torn corner of a scorecard.

"True gravity took your ball," it said. "Look in the sink hole."



Editor's note:

The Prince Golf Course was designed by renowned golf-course architect, Robert Trent Jones, Jr., opened in 1990. It was the original golf course at Princeville. Jones still refers to the course as his "masterpiece." It has been closed for years, while various enterprising owners have discussed unique inclusions, such as adventure programs. Presently it is called a "preserve."

Golf in the Kingdom is the title of a 1971 novel by Michael Murphy, a founder of Esalen (human potential institute) at Big Sur. The story is as much about philosophy as it is about golf. The term "true gravity" comes from Shivas Irons, the mystical protagonist in the story.

This blog post by Kevin Samson, a devotee of Zen Buddhism, was published on April 1, 2020. April Fools Day.

Any resemblance to real persons, past or present, is purely coincidental. The account described is purely fiction, as far as we know. The sink holes, now repaired, were real.

Golf balls found in sink holes