A baseball bat, a tennis racquet, and a cup of coffee all have what can be described as a "sweet spot." That's the place where the action happens. Your senses acknowledge it too. Every time. You always know when you've hit the sweet spot. All effort goes out the door. You perform as if floating on clouds.
Fine recorded albums and thoughtful theatrical film can have sweet spots too. Relationships, ad campaigns, and problems-in-need-of-solutions all have sweet spots; moments thought to be perfect or magical. ¡Violá! !Eureka! Son of a bitch, looky at that!
A healthy lifestyle has a sweet spot. Justice does too. Bags of weed and 40 oz. malted beverages have sweet spots. Every near-death experiences is a sweet spot. Sun spots are sweet spots.
I have been told that there is a sweet spot in/on the brain. Or was that a "warm spot"? Somebody help a brother out. I do know from handling infants that babies have soft spots.
The fulcrum, the mathematical center, "touch," clean beats, that imperceptible gap between deconstruction and reconstruction, locking into a zone are some very sweet spots. An orderly queue is sweet. Courtesy is a sweet spot.
If we turn the funhouse mirrors around--take them outside for a spin--we can gain an understanding and appreciation of a more macro exploration of sweet spots. Right?
Lives, careers, dynasties, eras all have sweet spots. The middle of the Roman Empire was probably quite a hoot for many. Yet, so must have been its eventual collapse. One person's sweet must be somebody's sour. Art can sour. Logic can sour. Friendships can sour.
Nothing lasts forever perfect. General Motors. Ma Bell. The Rolling Stones. Michael Jackson. Communism. Greece. The United Kingdom. Erections. The twin World Trade Center towers. Obliviousness. Rationality. For example.
But, and here's my only point today: let us enjoy our sweet spots. This sweet spot. This eye of the hurricane. This beautiful existence that we all share. This world and this life. Your senses acknowledge it.
Before it all gone.
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