Sunday February 20th
I played my first game of bocce ball yesterday and, to my amazement, threw the ball in the right direction, even occasionally landing almost where it should have gone. The court is long and narrow and covered with tiny, smashed seashells glistening in the sun, this one surrounded by orange trees heavy with ripe fruit and a few comfortable chairs for spectators at its edges.
When we were invited yesterday we didn’t know we were expected to play. John elegantly declined and left a handful of old women to play alone while he watched from the side, quietly smiling to himself. Within minutes as we grasped the essence of the game, everyone’s competitive spirit seeped into the air, quiet whisperings happened and much laughter too as balls bounced off the edges of the court and went hurtling down the length of the shell covered ground. It appears to be a simple game, but I am certain for those who have played most of their lives, it can also be played with sophistication.
The result of this hour of quietly lobbing balls down a long aisle in front of one was interesting. We were outdoors and in a garden that had been planned and perfected many years ago, it was beautiful and rather elegant while soothing as well. The game is slow, it requires patience and a gentle handling of a large heavy ball, not muscles or athletic ability but slowness, a deliberation and concentration. After a while we stopped talking and each of us watched as a ball wound its way down the court to reach the desired, or not so desired, place. Life became slow, focused but pleasant as the birds sang their evening songs and we smiled as our balls reached their destination. An even easy walk to the other end of the court after each set was done in silence. We had slowed down the pace of life, reached a place of ease while entertaining ourselves and each other. This could be addictive.
