Bubbles

This blog began within  the heart of an explorer. The bubble in which the illusion of my existence played out, burst. There was a full and successful life of service and sufficiency. Gone...

I have seen many bubbles come and go. Childhood; gone. Wrestling star; gone. College; gone. My babies; grown. My father; passed on. Contract after contract with a destination and a mission; come, fulfilled and done. 

Once was "Now" and "Now" is gone. Yet here is "Now."

As I blow the next bubble, I seek to allow the tools and gifts collected on this journey to help me manifest a fearless environment in which to serve. In the continuum of my next joyful bubble; a loving passion for the standards that define the Art of the Act of "Now." This will be respected; transitive respect.    (See Post 12-25-2011~ Gift of a Superpower)

I look for clues in nature to help me find such a destination, holding a mission for me. I see boundless water undulating in its ebb and flow. The water dances as a seamless reflection of the entire universe in motion, existing "Now" and "Now" and yet "Now" again. The same sum of the parts, yet arranged slightly different. What force drives the flow of all the parts together as one? What drives the relationship of each of the parts as individual pieces of that greater whole?

I would like to speak to that driver.

I've studied the fish zipping about the ocean beneath. As they rush to and fro, do the fish know or choose where they go; or, are fish no more than a bubble with scales?  Life brings must needs to the continuum that is "fish," with which the bubble is not burdened.

A soap bubble begins its life with precious little matter. The magic wand enters the substance that gives its existence in form. The wand is removed from the slurry into the environment of its birth. All but one element of the bubble's physical existence is present, yet no bubble. 

The breath of life directed through the slurry covered business end of the magic wand and the potential life span of a bubble begins.

As soon as the slurry membrane springs from the orifice of its birth, gravity latches onto the mass and begins to take its toll. The surface tension of the membrane balances.

 The inside pushing out and the outside pushing in. The oscillations in the bubbles form, calm, and the membrane settles into its natural shape of a near perfect sphere. You can see the excess slurry running to the bottom of the bubble, leaving only what matter is necessary for the structure of the bubble to continue.

The fragility of a bubble's existence is difficult to calculate, but easy to see.
Bubbles have a solitary existence, as do humans. Bubbles can, as an act of nature, join with other bubbles to coexist in time through space.

See how the joined bubbles share exactly the same surface area in their common wall. The volume of area is a result of the nature of each bubble balancing together with its partner. They share more than area. That shared wall is a single flat wall equal to both bubbles.

Note the reflection from the surface of the bubble. Each bubble reflects the same image off its face; different only in scale, relative to the size of the bubble. The image seen through the translucent bubble of the environment on its other side, is predicated on the line of sight of the observer. The scale of that part of the bubble's image, is not altered by the size of the bubble. It is what ever is on the other side of that bubble.

There is a natural flow to the potential of any bubble in space through time.

As a bubble settles to the ground, the flight of its existence nears its natural end. It soars on the wind until gravity finally wins. It settles down to the earth and waits for its natural passing.

I wonder about the atoms of matter that create the material bubble. Where are the boundaries of the bubble's existence? What does the curious mind include in the sum total of the bubble's parts?
So immortal is that bubble in the static oneness of "Now"; so fragile is its material existence when "Now" unfolds into continuum.

All the parts of the bubble still exist in the universe. The atmosphere on the inside escapes, as the membrane collapses in a cascade of failure.

The outside rushes in. The inside rushes out. Its collective material essence explodes into droplets, cascading around the sphere, from the point the membrane is breeched. The parts disperse and decay back into equilibrium and become ready to enter the service of substance yet again.

 A bubble has no defense against the continuums of destruction; natural or with malice aforethought. The perpetrator of the violent death of a bubble acts out a story of his or her own writing. The end result is the same. The memories are very different.

What of the bubble? Does one bubble feel the loss of its neighbor?

I sense I live in bubbles from time to time. I sense, I myself, am no more than a community of up to 75 trillion bubbles called cells. These bubbles possess the quality of life which resist their own destruction with the tool of memory serving as the primary defense.

What memories Earth? Don't know.

What memories Sun? Don't know.

What memories "Now?" None.

Be "Now." 

Right livelihood follows in the wake.