At the Master's last weekend, the players swore under their breath and broke golf clubs against tree trunks. The course was punishing: fast dry greens with ill-placed cups, more trees than the Redwood forest, and polar temperatures. The winner finished the four day slog 1 over par. That's right. That's the guy who won; and no, it wasn't Tiger. The whole tournament was just about as painful to watch as it was to play, apparently. "We've got to grind it out," said one of the golfers.
And this morning I thought, "Dude, that's how I feel."
The putts won't drop, the fields are fast and I'm grinding it out. I'll be at the library all day dredging up the last remaining vestiges of verbiage for this thesis. Once finished, I hope I can post a few sections to discuss here. Bonhoeffer is radical and too often we've domesticated him.
Thanks for all the feedback this week and weeks prior. Namaste.