I was thinking this morning about a few of my golf swings—specifically the ones that ended with something close to a perfect result. The ball went where I intended: toward the green, toward the hole, or, once or twice, into it. Like in softball, where there are routine catches, difficult catches, and spectacular catches—golf, too, has its hierarchy of outcomes. And yet, it’s not just the outcome that lingers—it’s the feeling in the body. Each successful swing was like a little inner chime ringing clear. Gold star. Good swing.
Later, I made a sandwich—just the right combination: something salty, something fresh, a bit of crunch, melted cheese. Tuna, or maybe tofu, doesn’t matter. What matters is that moment when you take the first bite and it lands right. It doesn’t just taste good—it feels good. And it’s funny how we say the same words—that was a good bite—but depending on how we say it, what we mean is entirely different. You can hear the soul of the moment in the tone. A good bite is a felt experience, not just a statement.
And then, not so long after, I sat down to read. A few words in, I noticed myself reaching—not for understanding, exactly, but for the experience behind the words. As if the words were the sandwich and I was searching for that first good bite. But what I’ve come to realize is that it’s not always the next phrase or idea that brings me closer to that feeling—it’s the breath. Just a breath, taken consciously, lets me settle, and in that settling, the sentence often blooms. The mind, no longer reaching, becomes still. And that stillness becomes the sweetness of the moment.
It’s like this: we breathe all day without thinking about it, using oxygen to keep our cells alive. But what if the breath can also be used to filter joy from the moment? What if each breath is not only a survival mechanism but also a refining tool—a way to distill clarity, presence, pleasure, or even something quieter, like contentment?
Just as our lungs draw in the atmosphere and extract what sustains us, maybe awareness can draw from experience and extract what delights us, or centers us. Not by effort, but by soft attention. A good breath, like a good swing, like a good bite, leaves a subtle echo in the body—an inner yes.
Every moment has the potential to be that:
A good swing.
A good bite.
A good breath.
A good now.
Spiritual Gravity 