soap bubbles

I wish I had my son’s patience. He blows slowly and steadily until he has the biggest soap bubble. Then he releases it, only to catch it gently seconds later. He can, he’s the creator. I have a feeling he’ll have little trouble getting what he wants… if he keeps that patience.

Me? As soon as I see a beatiful colourful soap bubble I fret. It dances and I strain. I try to catch it and, as my hand approaches, the air between us pushes it further and further away.

I went up in the small room with the overhang today. one month, two months later, who knows? I was trying the blue problem but actually fighting emotions. Climbing and emotions have always been bundled in a breath, trying to treat them separately feels harder than separating skin cells.

Always thought there’s no time for being anything other than true. We don’t have so much time, why spend it on games instead of joy? But the bubbles have their own dance, their own rythm. And certainly more time.


~ by mirale on March 20, 2018.

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