When a ball is rolling towards me, I kick it, and my body springs alive, dashing round the bases. Recess in 6th grade. First picked, playing with abandon and then... the crack of my head against concrete, sound reverberating into the universe. So long ago and still I hear it.
What is the sound of cracking open?
Opening to what?
I often have the feeling of enough. I have enough stuff. Overstuffed. And yet there is never enough food. Four chews and a swallow. The speed of eating, like running the bases. A race for second, for seconds.
So what is this hole I try to fill with eating and what is the connection to wholeness? to openness? to enough?
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