This brings us to another interesting subject. Meatball worship. There are cultures in the Pacific islands that believe in an omniscient, omnipresent, omnibus meatball. It is the giver and taker of life. Where the Japanese have the earth or the moon on the back of a sea turtle, these islanders have it all within the deliciously well-seasoned layers of the tropical meatball. The belief is that all life is saucy, delicious, and full of meat. We must embrace it, smother it with sauce, and devour it. Then the meatball has become one with us and we have become one with it.
But what makes a meatball? Is it the meat, or the spherical shape? Is it the sauce, or the spices? The meatball is whole. It is not just its parts. It cannot be entirely meat or entirely ball, just as we cannot be entirely "hu" or entirely "man". If we understand the meatball, we in turn understand ourselves. All meatballs made by man worldwide are symbolic of this greater metaphysical truth meatball. Some are made out of goat, sheep, beef, turkey, or, in some rare cases, people. But regardless of their meat substance they have a unity of shape and purpose. Roundness and edibility. Such is life. Round and edible.