The Bubble

KeithKreates254

Photo: Keith Channing

 

“It is the only way!” he insisted.

She shook her head. She understood his urgency but he’s been going on about a string of crises for the last two hours, and her bladder was threatening to win the Battle Of Emergency.

“Are you even listening?” his voice rose, reedy with strain.

She took a breath, curbing the depth of it as to not add to the internal pressure. There was no rest-stop in sight. She began wondering if the wall of a nearby metal shipping container would have to do. With any luck, no one would be peeking out their window or strolling by or who knows.

“I really have to go,” she tried.

He exploded. “Can you stop thinking about yourself for a moment and actually take this in?!”

Her bladder cramped. Did he seriously just say “take in”?!!

He was known for working himself into a tizzy, but his anxiety and whatever issues the current times awoke in him, did not give him license to be disrespectful. “Start the car,” she bristled. “We’re leaving.”

He glared at her as if she grew antennas, which she thought was hilarious given the circumstances and his ideas. Laughter began to bubble in her belly, but she didn’t think her pelvic musculature could manage the added demand.

“We can talk more about building your floating sphere,” she added, regretting her choice of words almost as soon as it left her lips, yet finding herself unable to conjure any other imagery. “But if you don’t get me to a bathroom in the next three minutes, you’ll have to wade through bigger waters than what this world saw during Noah’s flood.”

 

 

 

For the Kreative Kue challenge #254

 

Choosing Dandelions

hasan-almasi-BIrL2bdlMa4-unsplash

Photo: Hasan Almasi on Unsplash

 

I wake and turn my back on the clock and seek the comfort of the dream that is still floating like a bubble, already fragile, above my head. It pops and disappears and there is nothing but a vague sense of something lost. I wanted to go back into it … and yet the choice, when it was made in some subterranean neurological net within my mind, was that sleep was to escape.

The day to unfold.

Still, and throughout the mundane tasks of morning, small search-parties like tentative roots into hard-packed sand, send shoots into my consciousness to try and capture whiffs of the dream. A hope that perhaps a fleeting dandelion seed of recollection will find purchase and regrow a stalk.

A place of in-between. Perhaps a corner of my mind is still in slumber. Perhaps if I find it, I will come across the dream, robust in puffy bubble-hood, still tethered to my insides, waiting to be seen.

Sometimes writing helps.

I have too much to do.

I will ignore.

Will choose to sit and breathe and let my mind and fingers wander where they may, the sands of time, the depths of grief, the dawns of days, the fluttering delights, the warmth of recognition, the sorrows of injustice. Currents of discovery of what’s already there. A sea of tethered bubbles like a field of hot-air balloons, straining at the anchors to let loose.

I wrote of a blimp just the day before.

Was that the origin or the reaction to the imagery of bobbing thoughts and fullness so tangible it turns air into rising power? Was the blimp the source or the reflection of the fragility of any skin if pulled too tight, of the leaking deflation if seams are untended, the world upended as it spirals out of flight?

I write. I breathe.

I look pointedly away from the pink sticky notes and the open documents holding forms awaiting filling for a speaking engagement and another for an upcoming presentation and a list of emails needing a response.

I make a choice.

To chase a dandelion.

 

 

 

For Linda Hill’s SoCS Challenge: Choices

 

 

Zen Essence

calm curl NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

In the moment of the soft swell

Of a calm curl,

The gentle foam

Belays the power of

The waves that lift ocean liners

And cradle whales.

A breath

Before

Exhale.

 

 

Thank you, Terri, for this prompt. Perfect for today. For me, the shore is the ultimate calibrator. I took this photo in Ogonquit, Maine, quite too many years ago. Time to go back. Time to go to the beach. Any beach. For breath, for awe, for space, for zen.

For Sunday Stills: Essence of Zen

 

Wild Places

Ethiopia OfirAsif11

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

Find wild places inside your

Self,

Where vistas stretch

Your heart.

Climb peaks you did not know

Exist.

Let freedom

Joy impart.

 

 

 

For the Lens-Artist Challenge: Wild

 

 

Anti-Cacophony

Tranquil InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

Take a break from the city

From the din

From the crowds.

Walk yourself into quiet

Find a park

Riverside.

Turn the clamor to low

Let your breath

Ebb and flow.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Be At home

Door InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

Be at home

In the world.

In the spaces

Between

Here

And now

All the past times

And futures

To come.

Be at home

In your soul.

Let it inhabit

Your all

Let it welcome

You

Home.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Mismatched Delight

Ethiopia mismatch DvoraFreedman

Ethiopia (Photo: Dvora Freedman)

 

Silt and mud, oozy streets

Too much fun

To resist.

Mismatched shoes

Do not blight

Sludgy mushy

Delight.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Satisfaction

boy with dog

Photo: Atara Katz

 

My niece took this photo of a boy and his dog several years ago in Charleston, North Carolina. Then and now, it feeds my heart and gladdens my soul. The ageless, timeless, wordless friendship it conveys, the togetherness that needs no explanation, the calm connection of this shared experience, the gentle trust. I can almost feel the soft undulation of the water under the bow, the relaxed balance of both child and canine, the subtle breath of breeze, the deep contentment of the moment, the beauty of the day.

 

 

For The Photo Challenge