On Bubbles
I‘ve been thinking about how I’ve only enjoyed you in bubbles. By bubbles I refer to separate spaces of existence, where we are in our own or another world. Black Rock City and our trip across the country were both bubbles in which we had different priorities from our default lives.
In these bubbles we are still ourselves, but we can express differently, interact differently, and can exist differently. So much can be learned from time in bubbles. That time can recharge and amplify you as you move into another domain of experience.
If I love you in a bubble, do I love you for real? Love seems to transcend many boundaries, real and imagined. How do I know that my bubble is not just your reality? How do I know that as I leave that, I’m leaving the domain in which we can be together?
Are bubbles even real? Or am I just experiencing another life only to go back to what was before? These thoughts disturb me. They catalyze me. To be in another domain of existence.
Words are not the medium for this thought. The green line represents a shift into a different quality of life. Hard to define this, but I think it’s what you feel in a bubble.
What is this green line? Transformation? Metamorphosis? There are too many dimensions flattened down to clearly see this. But I feel it. A threshold, a boundary, a ceiling to move past.
A reason, a season or a lifetime. I thank you E, for being you. For polarizing me, for being a catalyst. For showing me how I interact with what I want. For being there for me to reflect. For helping me to see myself.
