“To arrive where you are, to get there from where you are not, you must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.”
--T. S. Eliot, “East Coker”
What was he writing about? Love, medicine, grief, maturity, poetry? Or was it golf?
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy…you must go by a way of driving ranges, balls skidding along the ground, the best swing you ever felt but it goes no where near the ball. And yet, and yet. This is the way to get from where you are not to arriving at true golf.