The Jester Knows

I may have been described as intense once or twice in my life. I have always been a driven athlete.

I remember preparing for my sophomore year of college football, the preparations I made to get into the best shape of my life. In the sweltering mid-summer heat and humidity of Bismarck, North Dakota. I was out grinding, running sprints around the football field to complete exhaustion. That intensity paid off. I came into preseason conditioning highly trained, running circles around my teammates.

Being intense, with the overdrive to succeed and perform, also allowed me to be very successful in a seventeen-year sales career. Even though it wasn’t aligned with my true nature, I found a way.

My passion for sports, especially golf, has driven me to practice for hours at a time. Trying so hard. Grinding. Searching. Pushing.

Eventually, that intensity led me straight into the chip yips.

Ironically, the way out wasn’t through more force, more effort, or more pressure. It came through Presence and what eventually became Beyond the Chip Yips: The Presence Golf Chip Method.

When Intensity Stops Serving You

Intensity has served me well, until it hasn’t.

I am prone to burnout as a highly sensitive, emotional guy. I am learning to find the middle way when it comes to training for fitness, practicing golf, and doing deep inner work with men.

Not too much. Not too little. Letting go of the all-or-none approach.

I think a lot of men live this way. We believe our value comes from how hard we push, how much we achieve, or how well we perform. Somewhere along the way, life stops feeling alive and starts feeling heavy.

Golf exposes this quickly. What begins as a game we simply loved as kids slowly becomes another place where we try to prove our worth. And that internalized pressure sucks the joy right out of the game.

Losing the Joy of the Game

The winner of last week’s Truist Championship was Kristoffer Reitan. What struck me most was not the victory itself, but his story.

In 2022, he almost quit professional golf entirely because of severe burnout. He even considered becoming a YouTube content creator because he had become so exhausted by the grind of proving himself.

He got caught in the trap so many of us know well: performing, forcing, trying to justify our existence through achievement.

Eventually, he lost the joy of the game. The very reason we fall in love with golf in the first place. To be outside. To be in nature. To feel alive. To play.

But somewhere along the way, expectations take over, even for non-professional golfers. We start attaching our identity to scorecards, results, and what other people think.

And life itself can become the same thing.

The Jester Archetype

I write about this in my book, Presence Golf: A Sacred Path to Self-Mastery:

“The Jester refuses to take life too seriously. The Jester knows that perfection is an illusion, and that joy is found not in control, but in surrender. So, I am learning to play a different game. I am letting go of the need to impress. I am releasing the fear of judgment. I am playing for the pure thrill of it.

Because golf was never meant to be a test of self-worth. It was never meant to be a burden. It was always meant to be a game, a playground for Presence, a sacred space for Self-discovery, a place to reconnect with joy.”

That is exactly what Kristoffer realized too.

“I was, at that point, considering whether or not I wanted to continue playing professionally. I had some thoughts about how to make the game a little bit more fun, a little bit more relaxed.”

There is wisdom in that. Not laziness. Not complacency. Wisdom.

Learning to Lighten Up

This is a beautiful lesson not only for golf, but for life.

I am learning not to take myself , or life   too seriously.

If I hit a funky shot, I laugh it off. If I make a mistake, I don’t beat myself up. At least not for as long as I used to. This is still very much a work in progress, but I can let things go quicker now.

That feels freeing. The truth is, life becomes much lighter when we stop turning every moment into a test.

Golf will humble us like no other sport.

Life will humble us too.

Maybe the point is not to control everything perfectly. Maybe the point is not to live under the weight of endless expectations. Maybe the point is to learn acceptance. To soften. To laugh more. To play again.

Where Are You Taking Life Too Seriously?

Where are you gripping too tightly?

Where are you trying to prove yourself?

Where has the joy disappeared because the pressure became too heavy?

How can you lighten up and fully enjoy the present moment again?

Yes, the school of life can be hard.

But the Jester reminds us of something essential: Life is meant to be lived fully alive.

Not performing. Not proving. Not constantly carrying the weight of becoming someone.

Just here.

Present.

Laughing along the way.