JCC Floor Hockey


Juranka's Corner

Jan 16, 2006

with me spilling the beans
its easy to see why the beans
get spilled slowly
one bean at a time

its when we slow down time
that subtle forces begin to work
when jamie or lev put a move on you
then its not fast, they don't even use
tanner sticks

the big plays unfold slowly and
deliberately and its that unusual pace
that tricks us into believing
that we are not yet enveloped
by the inevitable result

there are many tales of magic
which only the whiffle-ball knows
seeing all through its many
spining windows to the world

to us the gym floor is a stable
unmoving platform upon which
ball hockey alchemy is tested

it is the altar and the laboratory table

but think for one instant what
that same gym floor may look like
from the twirling eyes of the whiffle ball

the whiffle ball does not know that
it is in motion

it thinks that the floor is in motion
being pushed this way and that
by its very rotation

the whiffle ball believes that sticks
are attracted to it but that sticks
can never keep holding on

the whiffle ball is fiercely independent
and constant change is its way of life

that is the only reality it understands

no one can possess the whiffle ball

even at the end of the day
whether in a gym bag or on the
stick closet floor, the whiffle ball
sleeps alone

it simply wants it that way
it is complete

when you are at the center of attention
the solitude feels good

it feels empowering to be at one
with your silent inner self

when your commitment is inpenetrable
then there is quite simply no need for flashy display

angelina jolie knows it and
so does the whiffle ball

it hears the muttering of disgruntled players
missing their opportunities and blaming
the goddess of synchronicity and
cursing jesus

it hears the joy of accomplishments
and as the wind weaves a tapestry
of sound inside its circular chamber
the whiffle ball answers the call

robert frost once wrote that
that "i have promises to keep
and miles to go before i sleep
and miles to go before i sleep"
and everyone knew that sleep
was his was of reffering to death

the whiffle ball knows this too
and keeps its promises with
the players who can play the bounce

the whiffle ball is crushed under foot
and tries desperate to true itself
repeating its mantra amidst the chaos
"i have promised to keep and
miles to roll before i sleep"

its not an unfair life unless
all lives are in their peculiarity unfair

it doesn't seek praise or pity

its a whiffle ball's existence
plain and simple and in this day
of greed and pomp it has
surrendered effortlessly to the
cosmic eternal truism

it is at peace with its own existence
and in that negligible dust of relevance
it finds the bliss of god-filled monks
drunk with the divine juice of
joyous sweet simplicity

i roll therefore i am

what could be more obvious ?

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