as artists, it is incumbent upon us to notice bubbles. any size, any shape, any color – their incandescence is magical, their presence evanescent and, equally, magical. so even when they are simply gathered in our backyard pond, we pay attention.

we stand at the edge of the pond, watching the light play, watching the shifting landscape inside, each a reflection of the moment, each ever-so-slightly different. the thinnest of membranes exist between them, yet it is enough for each bubble to be individual, to be separate, to share adjacency yet have its own properties.

it occurs to me this is much like people. though we share contiguity, we are separate and the membranes that make us distinct may be impermeable.

in these days – where there is much to ponder – i find that i need to remember that. impermeability is the ability not to be affected by something – whether it is liquid, solid, philosophical. it is to be impervious. it is a stubbornness of boundary, a staunch and unyielding opinion, a stance borne perhaps of misinformation or anger. it can block truth and can trigger agenda-riddled actions. impermeability can stunt the evolving of a family, a community, a country.

we stand and watch the pond, as the bubbles float about. they are beautiful. we notice the surface tensions give way, the bubbles popping.

some break into smaller bubbles. some dissipate entirely.

and some bubbles seem to go on and on, supporting each other, co-existing in the little pond.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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