Last week, I wrote about what it is like to plan a year out on the Epson Tour. It’s our best effort to create certainty in the uncertainty. With one week ‘til I tee it up, I’m headed into the unknown and it’s just about time to let it go and set sail.

Before stepping into the smooth, bumpy, or mucky waters, I decided to write a letter to myself to read when I’m dry, when I’m clothed with more experience, wisdom, and probably slightly fatigued at the end of the year. In many ways, it’s my effort to set process goals and gain perspective before I dive in. I had no intention of sharing this, but when I read over it, I found there may be a few things other readers find valuable. So here you have it. A letter from Brynn in February of 2022 to-read December 31, 2022.

Dear Brynn,

Right now, I’m sitting on the beach. I came here to create a vision for the year. I’m looking out at the endless ocean and the water that reflects, in many ways, what I see for you in the coming months. The waves are rough and bumpy, the wind is whipping your hair into your eyes, the surface sand is brushing your calves, but the deep sand is keeping your feet grounded and protected from the scorching sun. Shocker, I am about to hit you with some metaphorical meaning of each of these.

When I arrived at the beach today, I was hoping the water would be still and the sand empty of people so I could have stillness and peace. It’s just the opposite. The waves are crashing and everyone and their brother is here. It’s so windy my curly hair is preventing my eyes from seeing clearly. The sand is creating an irritating tickling of my calves. This is probably going to happen for you this year. The circumstances aren’t going to be what you desire. In those times the only thing you will be able to control is your inner peace. I hope by now you are better at finding calmness and clarity in these moments than I currently can. I hope you didn’t let the surface sand affect you and instead relied on the heavy stuff keeping you grounded. It won’t be easy, but I hope you stayed cemented in who you are and relied on the people who know you best.

As I look out in the poor surf conditions, I’ve only seen two people plunge in. Two young girls with surfboards in hand. They are relentless. I can’t even count the number of waves that have pushed them back to shore and sugar-coated their bodies with sand. Yet, they continually get up and paddle on. Eventually, they caught a swell and rode it. This past year, I hope you kept paddling until the wave came your way. When it did - did you ride it? I mean really ride it. Did you show the world your biggest smile? The one where all your dimples flex and water fills your eyes? I hope you did because that’s worth all of your hard work.

You're now two weeks removed from your wedding day. I can imagine there is still so much love filling your heart. Probably due to the honeymoon phase of marriage, but I hope it’s also overflowing from a year which you devoted to love. Love for the game - the game that is your craft. I hope you really loved it. With love, you carried the same passion that you did as a kid, engulfed with curiosity about how to conquer the complexity of golf. My wish is that you passed it on to others, that you loved all the people on your path. By now, you’ve traveled far and wide. In each destination, did you leave a piece of your heart? Because if you did, I’m sure there is a piece from each place you were given in return. Each piece you will carry with you for the rest of your life.

I’m imagining there is a new card in your wallet. Not one you’ll swipe at the grocery store. No, the one they’ll scan for inside the ropes access to your biggest dreams: your LPGA tour card. I don’t really want to think about it, but if it’s not there I’m sure you're frustrated and disappointed. So, take yourself back to me right now. The girl sitting on the beach headed into uncertainty that only you can now see as memories in your past. Can you say that you have grown? That you are better now? That you are closer to your dream or goal in whatever way it has evolved? If so, relax and smile. Hold your husband's hand and throw the other one up in the air because another chapter is about to start in this book of life.

So, fold this letter and turn the page.

Love, Brynn

Setting Sail: A Letter To My Future Self

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