A volleyball tournament changed my sister's plans. So, just the three of us went to the stadium. We sat on the hill because it's best for hyperactive sons. He and I snuggled, cheered, he yelled MIZ to me, and I yelled ZOU back. I defied dress and wore an old t-shirt. He put his head on my lap and looked up and smiled. He loves me very much. I love him too. Guaranteed, I would've pushed a bigger kid down the hill who stepped on him. My husband studied the program to know all the facts. We stayed until the half, and then I walked barefoot back to the faraway parking garage. Blisters.
What is it about roaring crowds that transcend this life? One time at a Chiefs game, I sank back into my seat to listen and absorb the motion and movement of a life's vehement fling. We're red! We're victorious! We're off to kill! It announced the curtain again, that veil that thinly hides other similar moods and events and the significance of the thing. Surely behind the yelling, cursing, drinking, flinging there lies what matters: that blood throbs, and we find ourselves at odds with something in the air, the Seahawks, the dictator, the famine. Roar. Why?
I find myself sitting and thinking about these things more than roaring. I care about who wins, for sure, yet I care as an observer of the tumult, and it makes me thoughtful, and then I don't pay much attention to the mechanics. I still don't understand the person who gets overwhelmed by the stats as if the stats themselves are wholly viable. Pieces splattering ~~ I'm not running to collect them. That's just me ... I say the big picture matters. The season is insignificant.
Something speaks, though, within it all. It often conveys something sensory and ill-conceived which is why it's often ignored. But, please, I pray that I can hear the words clearer as I live longer. I want to know the undercurrents, that spiritual static, the Truth that is, a significance to the game. The Tao says it arrives. The Bible says to knock. I wait on a hill. The crowd roars the team to victory.
Why? Is the conquering the thing? I can accept what is discovered. Let me see more to understand what's beyond the field, above a hill, within a smile, outside the score. I desire this very much. Merci, merci. And, also, help those who mourn in Russia. Comfort beyond the grief. Amen.