Chicago Bulls basketball is my religion.
Let me be clear--I do not worship a group of living men as though they are Gods. I do, however, look to my city and its teams as a means to connect to something larger than myself--especially since life has taken me so far away from home.
Growing up in an Atheist/Jewish household, religion was never about God or belief systems. Religion in my family was about traditions and rituals and spending time together--sneaking sips of too-sweet wine, stifling laughter, sitting stiller than we wanted to, singing while we wanted to run.
God always seemed like little more than a plot device to explain away the inexplicable in the heavily-moral fables told to us by dim-eyed adults, through thick Eastern-European accents. He was the grouchy amusement park owner befuddling Scooby and the gang.
I don’t mean to be irreverent or offensive here; I only mean to portray my experience honestly.
My spiritual awakening came while watching Michael Jordan play basketball.
That shit was real.
And I was a part of it.
The whole city rode on his shoulders.
Michael could fly--and we could all fly with him.
This is how I first understood how it felt to connect to something larger--to be a part of something special. Magical. Religious. I have flirted with orthodoxy ever since--religion in my home still taking the shape of traditions and rituals and spending time together.
No longer hiding the wine, stifling the laughter, sitting too still.
Now, I want to try to look at this game--so rich with stories and moments and meaning and truth--in a new way. I want to interact with the games--refine them down to a point of light--dig out some meaning beyond the surface.
Consider these poems private reflections.
Or meditations.
Or prayers.
I am the Bulls Bard.
And this is my Book of Verses.
Let me be clear--I do not worship a group of living men as though they are Gods. I do, however, look to my city and its teams as a means to connect to something larger than myself--especially since life has taken me so far away from home.
Growing up in an Atheist/Jewish household, religion was never about God or belief systems. Religion in my family was about traditions and rituals and spending time together--sneaking sips of too-sweet wine, stifling laughter, sitting stiller than we wanted to, singing while we wanted to run.
God always seemed like little more than a plot device to explain away the inexplicable in the heavily-moral fables told to us by dim-eyed adults, through thick Eastern-European accents. He was the grouchy amusement park owner befuddling Scooby and the gang.
I don’t mean to be irreverent or offensive here; I only mean to portray my experience honestly.
My spiritual awakening came while watching Michael Jordan play basketball.
That shit was real.
And I was a part of it.
The whole city rode on his shoulders.
Michael could fly--and we could all fly with him.
This is how I first understood how it felt to connect to something larger--to be a part of something special. Magical. Religious. I have flirted with orthodoxy ever since--religion in my home still taking the shape of traditions and rituals and spending time together.
No longer hiding the wine, stifling the laughter, sitting too still.
Now, I want to try to look at this game--so rich with stories and moments and meaning and truth--in a new way. I want to interact with the games--refine them down to a point of light--dig out some meaning beyond the surface.
Consider these poems private reflections.
Or meditations.
Or prayers.
I am the Bulls Bard.
And this is my Book of Verses.