Mighty Casey Has Struck Out

Monday, February 21, 2005

manna

man-na

1. In the Bible, the food miraculously provided for the Israelites in the wilderness during their flight from Egypt.

2. Spiritual nourishment of divine origin.

3. Something of value that a person receives unexpectedly: viewed the bonus as manna from heaven.

4. The dried exudate of certain plants, as that of the Mediterranean ash tree, formerly used as a laxative.

5. A sweet granular substance excreted on the leaves of plants by certain insects, especially aphids, and often harvested by ants.

My friend Juan calls it manna. And when he talks about it, he reaches a fever pitch. It's different for everyone and hard to find for those, like myself, who follow no particular religious practice. It's that returning-to-the-well, what-keeps-you-going, just-checking-in moment of total communion. We all have the means within us and we are all constantly searching for different or easier ways to engage with it. For him, a writer, it was masturbation. And depending on the writer's block, he needed it more or he just needed it less.

Now, I am probably the only woman in the United States who doesn't do yoga. I don't meditate, pray, chant or do stand-up comedy (surely a cathartic experience if there was one.) And these days, I am looking for manna. Getting lost on a muddy hike in the Mudville mountains until my mind wanders so far off, I am nowhere; reading the quiet and stunning poetry of Mary Oliver whose last stanzas never fail to slay me and put me in my rightful place; sobbing til the sheets are wet and your jaw aches; and of course, sweaty, mind-depleting sex; all these things can bring me back to myself. Back to the point of it all. Back to the reason for getting up each day.
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