What a bunch of horseshit. You can say the same thing about washing the dishes. The idiomatic wisdom and centeredness and being-in-this-place-now that emanates from the soapy water. The aromatherapeutic nature of contacting smell and the sensorial, muffled clunk of cutlery beneath a soapy insulation layer brings me down to a level of practical groundedness. The visceral, tactile connection with the very stuff of domestic, real life. The generative cleaning and improving characteristic of the whole activity overall causes me to connect and reflect positively on life itself. On growing. On being. On the necessity for work, and on the joy that this work can bring.
The awareness of self and the metaphorical depth of the importance of water is unavoidable. Too hot is scalding and unpleasant but too cold is limiting. Just as in life, we must balance our comfort with the need for progress. Doing the dishes teaches me all of this.
And, unlike golf, it's not a ridiculously expensive classist, environmentally destructive legacy of absolute horseshit that sequesters great swaths of otherwise useful land, locked away only for the enjoyment of the elite through the constant application of gallons of pesticides and herbicides.
"Nature" my ass. Golf is about as natural as Disneyland, and equally as stupid.
