Some of you already know the story of my brief escape from the world of the mortal player and into the realm of the pool gods, but for those who don't here's a synopsis.

On Valentine's Day, 2001, I lost my job. About ten minutes later my sister came over to tell me she'd found a lump in her breast. For the next two days, in an attempt to keep my mind off those things, I played pool. To be more specific, I didn't miss for two days. I was just awesome. Then I lost it, and I spent the better part of the next three years trying to get it back. My game fell back to that of a raw beginner, so strong was my focus on this singular goal.

Most of my (failed) attempts to get back that prolonged dead-stroke focused on the physical. I'd detected, but failed to really notice, a slight adjustment to my right arm, and I spent an awful lot of time trying to find that magic placement again.

It never worked.

One other thing about those magical two days, though, was my mental state. I was experiencing a combination of depression and anxiety, with a lack of sleep thrown into the mix. This was something I was certainly aware of, all those times I sought to regain my lost magic, but I couldn't really generate a mood on demand, could I?

Now those of you who venture over to read my regular 'blog know that I've had some turmoil in my life over the past few months that, on the surface at least, seems a lot like what I experienced back in 2001. I've had depression. I've certainly had anxiety. I may have set new records for lack of sleep.

On most occasions these factors were just too strong to be any kind of a catalyst for my game, but every now and then, like flipping a switch, everything would just fall into place. On those occasions when I was able to force my mind to forget about my troubles, and focus on the table and the shot in front of me, I simply could not miss.

Actually, similar things have happened to me in the past, though to a much lesser degree. My divorce was not only one of the best things that ever happened to me, it was also one of the best things the ever happened to my game. When my father died I didn't pick up a cue for weeks, but once I did, I shot pretty damn well.

I'm sure I could think of more examples. I've certainly had enough turmoil.

What I'm thinking - and this may be obvious, is that by forcing my mind away from unpleasant thoughts, I'm essentially forcing it towards the game.

It's when my mind's internal ramblings become unbearable enough for me to shut them down, but not so powerful that I can't shut them down, that's when my game goes up a notch.

It would certainly be nice to be able to focus exclusively on the shot-at-hand whenever I wanted to, but unfortunately I seem to need a little help in that department.

I'll have to work on it some more.