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Mind Is the Master
The human will, that force unseen,
The offspring of a deathless soul,
Can hew the way to any goal,
Though walls of granite intervene. — James Allen
“Kev?”
Coach Byron’s familiar voice filtered in through the dreamy layer of relaxed consciousness, reeling me back from my state of pregame meditation.
“Yea, Coach?”
Though I’d been dancing on the verge of full out slumber in that sleepy, meditative state — the ideal place for maximum visualizing and concentration — I was now at full attention. My senses, which had receded to the point of seeming numbness to the external world, were heightened to the max. The pungent scent of sweat drenched, mud caked practice gear strewn throughout the darkened cavernous locker room; the distant but distinct droning of the PA system ringing from the field; the nervous tapping of cleats and the muted thumping of encouraging shoulder pad smacks of my teammates waiting out in the hallway, all descending on me in full, as if melding into one all encompassing super — sense…
Coach gave me his patented “let’s take care of business” stare and nod. “They’re ready: Lead ’em out.”
I nodded, released a deep breath, and reached for my helmet. The weaving loom of Mind — as I’d come to learn —…
