02-02-2005, 03:53 AM
On a golf tour in Newfoundland, Tiger Woods drives his BMW into a gas station in a remote part of the Island. The attendant at the pump greets him
in a typical Newfoundland manner, completely unaware of who the golfing pro
is. "Morning, bye," says the attendant.
Tiger nods a quick "hello" and bends forward to pick up the nozzle. As
he does so, two tees fallout of his shirt pocket onto the ground.
"What are dey fer, buddy?" asks the attendant.
"They're called tees," replies Tiger.
"Well, what on de good earth are dey fer?" inquires the Newfie.
"They're for resting my balls on when I'm driving," says Tiger.
"Mother of Jaysus," says the Newfie, "Dem fellers at BMW tinks of
everyting
in a typical Newfoundland manner, completely unaware of who the golfing pro
is. "Morning, bye," says the attendant.
Tiger nods a quick "hello" and bends forward to pick up the nozzle. As
he does so, two tees fallout of his shirt pocket onto the ground.
"What are dey fer, buddy?" asks the attendant.
"They're called tees," replies Tiger.
"Well, what on de good earth are dey fer?" inquires the Newfie.
"They're for resting my balls on when I'm driving," says Tiger.
"Mother of Jaysus," says the Newfie, "Dem fellers at BMW tinks of
everyting
I realise that I have a past to break with--an accumulation of inertia, wrong, foolishness, rot, junk. A great need of clarification, of mindfulness, or rather, of no mind. A need to return to genuine practice, right effort. Need to push on the great doubt. Need for the spirit. Hang on to the clear light.
Thomas Merton