What do you say about balls? Men and their balls make me laugh. They come they go, rarely stay. Never know how to engage in any meaningful way. Often ballistic in a ball-aching way.
They have only one thought in their ball-sized brains. Only what they can gain without leaving stains. They focus on balls of all shapes and sizes. Thrilled by their ability to kick them, then excitedly chase the roll. They happily hit hard with a bat or a racket to see how far they can make them fly across a ballpark or court. Some will throw a ball proudly with a strong right ball-jointed arm, hoping it’s caught by their ball-mate unharmed. They bounce them with joy. They juggle them with skill. They toss them through hoops with a sharp eye on the trajectory. They are delighted without restraint to see their ball team dash. Skidding and sliding through grass and mud to land their ball in a territory or goal or getting their roundish thing across a line, is often seen as something divine. Or into a hole or a tunnel or into a net. They work hard to leap and snatch from the air while sprinting the field. They love ball games and ball gowns, ball bearings and ball cocks. Men chase them, hit them, sweat for them and sometimes die for them. If only they put that much effort into things that are not ball shaped. You can’t help but wonder how far that would go and what the fascination is with balls.
They often balls-up. They sabotage relationships with their children and wives by focusing on all the wrong balls in their lives and often seeing their balls attached to a chain, so they frequently desire not to remain. They sometimes get angry beyond all sense if a ball misses a target or flies over a fence. Often, they strike out at the things in life that are much more important, like the trouble and strife. These things make sense and bring absolute joy and fulfilment. Not the balls or the game; they don’t hold contentment.
Don’t get me wrong, I do like round things. Many perfect packages arrive in round skins. Oranges, apples, blueberries and the tiny round ones that create something new. It’s true that contained in lots of round things, there is goodness and new life. Wonder and pleasure, I guess, in that sense, I can see the fascination.
Round things make up our universe to a large degree. Everything created has a spherical form. Planets and stars. Cells and Atoms. Most seeds are round and even straight things are tubular like tree limbs and stems. All square things are made. They are hard and unforgiving often collapsing and killing with the tiniest vibrations leaving devastation and waste in their wake.
But round things are eternal, and they shape our being. Tadpoles swimming new life beginning. The moon and stars that move us with awe. We admire all round things, from chubby cheeks to leather balls. They each have special meaning and fill us with joy. All manner of round things are the stuff of life. They are the source of life and the inherent pleasure in all living things. But mostly balls.
I still think it’s funny that men are so absorbed with round things, particularly balls in all their funny forms. What do you think? Is this a valid view or just a load of bo***cks?
Please like and comment below. I would love to hear your views. I write from the heart – sometimes messy, sometimes poetic, always real.
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Living on the Edge 