Monday, March 20, 2017

Bubbles

Ya know how "they" say that you can create your porn name with the name of your first pet and the street you grew up on?  Well my porn name would be Bubbles Myrtle.  That sorta elicits images of Naomi and Thelma Harper combined.  Not sure that works for me. 

In other news, I feel like I just learned so many important life lessons while sitting and watching the world’s most resilient bubble floating through my kitchen and into my living room.  Through door handles, into and back out of cabinets, up to the ceiling, around lights, it continued to float and reflect the light around it.  I just learned that no matter what gets in your way, you can go around it.  Even when you float into the shadows and nobody can see you, you’re still there.  Even when you think that you’re hidden from view and nobody is looking for you, someone still is.  When you have just the right light shining on you, you look more powerful than a fairy.  Even when half of your bubble has faded, it’s still possible to enjoy an enduring life.  The simple power to be able to float around life has got to be one of the most amazing gifts ever.  The rainbow colors of a bubble are probably the most beautiful colors one can wear.  When you get close enough to someone that you realize can hurt you, it’s okay to turn right around and head back to safety. 

I watched this bubble for at least 13 minutes, and that’s just from the time I thought to look at the clock.  It was still a while before then that I’d been watching.  When that little bubble actually went inside the door handle of my cabinets instead of floating around it, then it went into the cabinet and floated about for a moment before coming out, I realized it was an interesting bubble that deserved my attention.  I’m glad I gave it. 

As we headed into the living room, I thought about how long it had been since I just stopped and observed without any other motives.  I might meditate every day, I might be acutely aware of my surroundings to the point where I can tell you exactly what birds I heard during my run and where, but how often do I truly just stop and be?  Not often, for sure.  I got to do that for 13 minutes today.  It was lovely.  It reminded me of those times in Afghanistan when I would go out onto the back porch and blow bubbles after particularly annoying or frustrating days.  It’s tough to be angry or frustrated while watching bubbles.  They just float so beautifully.  So carelessly.  So gracefully.  And they look so perfectly round.  The way they reflect the world around them, but in rainbow colors, just captivates me.   


I’m going to buy bubbles and start making that a part of my self-care after work, after rough counseling shifts, or whenever my mood gets a little grumpy.  How can life be complicated, upsetting, or troublesome when there are bubbles to watch?