The invention of the wheel was visionary for our race. It is fun to think about how man possibly came up with it.
He probably looked atop of his cave. Maybe he thought about the large boulder that he could see. Since he could only see one dimension of it, he invented the wheel. At least, that’s my hypothesis.
Now that I think about it, it would be rather ironic– how a boulder shaped man’s first ever revolution. Again, it was a sphere that probably altered the course of human history forever. However, that was only the beginning of the story of how spheres influenced the globe.
The world was thought to be flat and square, as we stood in black and white boxes, mere chess pieces. Of course, that was until Pythagoras proposed the idea of a globular world. It was absurd at first. People didn’t believe it for centuries, some still don’t.
The fact that the world might not be what it seemed like, it boggled man’s mind. To think that his sight was but an illusion. It probably made him have countless sleepless nights. Even more, it made man skeptical of the world around him. It made him question the very basic of things.
“Believe nothing you hear, and only half of what you see.”
-Edgar Allan Poe.
It was a very boulder that Sisyphus was given the task of lifting. He was punished for his self-aggrandizing craftiness and deceitfulness. He was forced to roll an immense boulder up a hill only for it to roll down when it nears the top, repeating this action for eternity.
But Sisyphus wasn’t gloomy. Sisyphus doesn’t wonder about the insanity of his life, and his eternal task of doing the very same thing over and over again. He’s rather content. He finds happiness in his very sphere. He prefers to find meaning in a pointless task than to continue the rest of his eternity in despair.
“The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.”
-Albert Camus
The sun, the moon, the sky and it’s beautiful lights. The windows to your soul– the very slits through which you view the world. The knobs to your door, the marbles in your thoughts. This mere round solid figure with every point on its surface equidistant from its centre. It is truly fascinating.
Now, I would like to talk about the sphere that makes each one of our days. The football.
Every single time I wake up, I find myself wondering about how I’ll feel when I get to run into the field, to toy with the ball. To grasp it’s aura, to inject the venom into my veins–the serum that transports me to a completely different place. To grasp the spherical thing, it almost feels like the world is beneath one’s foot. Not only the greatest of things, but the simpler ones that make every single day unique.
Living becomes elegant, life seems simpler, like the single equation man has been on the hunt for. It seems like the lords have answered your lonely cries finally. That’s the sheer joy a ball can bring to one’s life.
The ecstasy when I pull off a nutmeg, the singular moment of triumph when I can spot the look of absolute shame on my victim’s face. It should make one feel sympathetic towards the one he nutmegs, really. That is just how intense the brief moment is.
The immaculate power one invests in the finishing shot. The tremendous effort that goes into making the goal. The heightened emotion of triumph, coupled with satiety and the unquenchable thirst for more. It is in this climactic moment that one unwraps his infallible self.
Eleven men toying with the ball as the other eleven try to snatch it from them. Eleven men standing aguard, protecting their goal. The way it is played is irrelevant. In contrast to the sheer insignificance of one’s life, the ultimate desperation for satiety, a simple sphere keeps us sane. As long as the ball keeps one happy, it means the world and beyond.
Mind o' mine 