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Tag Archives: illusion


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in a bubble? [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“living your life in a bubble will give you the illusion that everything is ok.”

i know this is true. i know that – even though we are not members of the fiscally-elite, the upwardly-mobile, the investment-heavy, on the supposedly-can’t-be-touched rung of the caste ladder – we still live in a bubble. because we are white. because we were born to citizens of this nation and are – clearly – citizens ourselves. because we – even in the mediocre middle-ish of middle-class where we plop our pins of existence – are privileged. we – even with the challenges we face – in terms of income, healthcare and living expenses, loans of whatever sort we all need, the ability to get and consume food and water and a safe place to live – we are fortunate.

we are aware. and we are grateful. there is not a day that goes by that we don’t look at each other and – truly – say how very lucky we are.

and, yet, in that awareness we know that everything is not ok.

the membrane of whatever bubble in which we might reside is permeable. we participate in the gleaning of information, the parsing out of truth, the speaking-up against bigotry and extremism, the knowledge that these are dangerous times. we cannot linger within a bubble that allows us to flit from one day to another sans worry.

to walk in a world where you won’t talk about what is actually happening, where you won’t discuss corruption or the decimation of our nation, where you won’t “go there” as we have heard from those unwilling to, well, go there – feels as if there is an illusion that everything is just fine, that one feels untouchable, that someone else’s pain is not yours, that empathy is no longer in vogue.

it is disturbing that in order to reclaim our country we need all talk and join together and yet there are so many who just choose to linger in their bubbles, flitting about doing “normal” life – at a time when nothing is actually “normal” or, worse yet, floating in an echo chamber of propaganda – like a pod unto itself.

the bubble wand is one of those instantly recognizable things. it immediately conjures up images of iridescent bubbles floating mid-air, powered by nearby breezes. it is a visceral memory of childhood – ours, our children’s. a happy thought.

bubbles go hand in hand with unicorns and magical sunrises, joyous icons of life.

but bubbles pop. and unicorns don’t exist. and the sun draping the sky with the colors of rising doesn’t last beyond dawn. and reality is reality.

we are all in this…this world. everything is not ok.

lest we get lost in the illusion – and are therefore surprised at the cruelty, the destruction, the demolition of things good and natural and constitutional and humane – we need to be open to the truth of it all, to not be deluded, to not place stake in a mirage or a floating effervescent air globule.

everything is not ok. can we please address this honestly?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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asphalt illusions. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

“i’ve looked at life from both sides now
from win and lose and still somehow
it’s life’s illusions I recall
i really don’t know life at all

i’ve looked at life from both sides now
from up and down and still somehow
it’s life’s illusions I recall
i really don’t know life at all”

(joni mitchell – both sides now)

puddletrees. they were right there, waiting. trees out a window. trees in a snowstorm. trees in front of us. illusion. reminding me – in the taking of the photograph – that things are not always what they seem.

it’s like story. things are not always what they seem.

“but in this song there are only two sides to things… there’s reality and i guess what you might call fantasy. there’s enchantment and dis-enchantment, what we’re taught to believe things are and what they really are.” (joni mitchell – at a performance 1967)

two sides. we’ve been taught to remember that there are two sides to every story. we learn though – somewhere along the way – that there are often many more sides than two. story is a multi-faceted creature, amorphous enough – and pliable enough – to take on the shape of whatever the storyteller – or the listener – wishes. this is not just dependent on details or fact; this is not simply dependent on reality. this is dependent on intention. even with the truth-telling of true story – with ample substantiation – there are others who will warp story into their agenda. reality and the flipside. brutal.

and so sometimes the don’t-know-clouds, don’t-know-love, don’t-know life takes on monumental proportion.

but there are puddletree moments. pared down. and these are not win or lose, up or down moments. they are simply suspensions of time – when we marvel at the reflection of trees in puddles or a single snowflake on a leaf or the survivors in scorched earth of a controlled burn, when we linger in the harmonic of a ninth or the color of the peony, when we pause in the middle of mayhem to look around us, when we know that just a little beyond reality is dream. and we can see it from here.

life’s illusions in an asphalt puddle. we really don’t know life. what it really is. at all.

“well, something’s lost, but something’s gained
in living every day.”

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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what is really real? [flawed wednesday]

back in the day, my sister drove a dodge charger. it was a pretty sporty car then, the 1974 model, and, as a driver on long island’s expressways, she was up to the task. she is still much a new york driver, conversation while driving in the car punctuated with relevant muscle-car-language. it was always an adventure being in the car with her. i am eleven years younger so i learned road-talk sitting in her passenger seat.

when the commercial came on for the dodge challenger i had to laugh. they have been pretty similar vehicles through the years. and the commercial made me think of my sister. until i saw the little boy driving it like a road-maniac. right smack dab in the middle of all the fancy muscling around, the commercial pauses and the little boy turns and says, “our lawyers just want you to know that this isn’t real.”

duh. it’s a commercial. is anything real?

the disclaimer at the end of pharmaceutical company ads listing possible side effects – though it is announced that it is not an all-inclusive list – is always bracing…especially the “do not use this drug (fill in the blank) if you are allergic to it or the ingredients in it…” seriously? what is real?

in our litigious country it is remarkable that you don’t have to sign a waiver no matter what you do. so many potential lawsuits, so little time. everything everywhere is closer than it appears in the mirror.

i had to text my sister and ask her what year her charger was. i remember clearly how much she loved that car – i remember it as butter yellow with a white vinyl top. when she texted me back i found out that she had purchased that very car because a playpen fit in the trunk. it was after her daughter was born so playpens and toting baby stuff was real for her. muscling on highways not so much.

my first car was my volkswagen. it was a 1971 super beetle and i adored it. my dog came with me everywhere and sat in the well. i toted my little niece all around, windows down and singing songs on our way to the beach or to feed the ducks or to play in the park. it was not a muscle car, it had zilcho storage capacity and it was not featured in cool cream puff commercials then or now. but it was real and it was a steadfast little bug.

pre-pandemic we loved to explore antique shoppes. we would stumble upon so many relics, so many memories, so many we-had-this moments. often, we would find things we still have, which made us laugh aloud that our possessions – the ones not obvious vintage treasures – were considered antiques. the mixing bowls, the salt and pepper shakers, the corningware, the irish coffee mugs. wandering through the aisles of antique shoppes, i have been known to exclaim, “people shouldn’t be able to purchase new glassware or mugs or plates or china! it should be a requirement to purchase from a secondhand store or an antique shoppe!” i am overwhelmed sometimes by the vast amount of wasted products, the vast amount of new choices, the vast amount of value people place in the stuff they have. what is really necessary? what is really real?

as the proud owners of stoneware i bought for 25¢ a piece at a wholesale show, passed-down corningware, a stove/oven circa 1980, a scion xb with 247,000 miles, an old 1998 ford f150 pickup truck and, yes, a 1971 vw bug, we are not the audience for the new dodge challenger commercial we saw.

because the little kid was right. it’s not real.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY