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scratch
July 18, 2005
sometimes, i feel like we're so close.
granted, i tend to feel this late at night, with some drink in me, with foolish hope dashed and reality sharp in my ears and burning in my stomach.
but i see it, I do, soberly, and I remember it clearly when I wake in the morning. i move, I remember moving, down the streets, and I may sway, slightly, but i see the vectors, the forces and the inertias and momentums in the world around me, not just in its bodies, but in the hearts and minds, as well.
sometimes, i see it in a game of pool, especially with just that bit of drink calming my mind so it can let loose a bit. i watch shots lined up, balls colliding, missing, the sequences of causality two, three, four or more collisions removed from original intent.
the game begins with our intentions, how accurately they're delivered on impact with the cue ball, how smoothly we follow through, how far past the break we see.
every time we hit the ball, there's the one true path, the right spin, the right english, the right amount of force in the right vector. but there are so many variables, so many flaws in our humanity. our muscles aren't perfectly responsive, our skeletons aren't perfectly geometrical. and more importantly, our wills aren't perfect. i want to show off. i want her to see something of my own will and strength in the way i sink this shot. i want this shot to be as good as the last. i want this shot to be better than the last.
some people can hit the ball almost perfectly, can subjugate all those emotions and character flaws to the precision of biomechanics.
but then, the universe itself isn’t the perfect table. it’s not so smooth. there is a nap to its surface, that affects the way the balls roll; debris, imposed by random chance, disposed of by history, that changes the roll, negates intention and will just slightly enough for the shot to go awry.
and for as well as you might hit the ball initially, for as much as you might overcome the vagaries of the table, there's where you leave the ball. you hit a shot perfectly, but where have you left yourself for the next stroke?
anne sexton writes of playing poker with god, and how he cheats. god doesn't have to cheat at pool, because he's smarter. he knows the insecurities and doubts and flaws that pull at our shots, cause us to see angles incorrectly, cause us to miss shots out of arrogance, put too much faith in our intellect, too much faith in our instinct. he knows the nap of the table. he knows, after it all, maybe not exactly where the balls will and won’t fall, but simply when we will, and that we will, miss.
sometimes we hit the shot well, we run a few balls, to a shot we can't or don't make. then, it's god's turn. few of us think to play good defense against god. and it's pointless, anyway, because he can make all the trick shots, all the time.
we so overcomplicate and oversimplify god and love, our lives. it’s all there before us, on the table. simple in design, complex in its unpredictability, in its reliance on all the pulls on our hearts. we can control much less than we believe. we can control much more than we believe.
some nights, I play in the zone. i seem to see so clearly. the ball sinks, and I move smoothly around the table, with confidence, and more fall home. but everyone, eventually, misses. and on this night, as on so many nights, hardly any fell at all.
I feel the pain in every miss. it makes me a sore loser. the losing is bad enough. but every time I miss, I know that once again, I’ve just failed to grasp the obvious, to capture a moment, to reveal my best, to find, in control and the luck of a shot made on a poor table, hope.
Posted by Rob at July 18, 2005 12:01 AM
Comments
Love the new look
Posted by: mara at July 21, 2005 07:03 PM
Holy crap! Have I wandered into a website about split pea soup? What the hell?
Posted by: Morgan at July 22, 2005 10:40 AM