In high school, my coach told me I could throw the football farther into the wind due to the aerodynamics, and he did the sly, quick click on the stopwatch and made me believe I ran a 4.6. I don't know if I ever really threw in the mid 80's on the mound, or if it was just a feeling. An inner Bill Laimbeer that will take you down, no matter the speed.
Yesterday I read a line of Rick Rubin's that said "Impatience is an argument with reality". He's right! It's a rugged fight really, being an artist. There's no coach on the table, edging you on. It's you in an empty room against the blank page and if you want it all now, well that's just too bad. Deep breath!
Tall tales don't really work to push the artist. He must find himself, immersed in it. As with golf, one must be present and have integrity. One must have the honor of a soldier on the course, when in the bush he lies. A triple, a quadruple bogey, put it on the card. Dig your game out of the dirt! I dare you. The golf gods are smiling upon you. And trust me, they won't forget. In this era of great posturing, you'll rest my friend.
