The Bubble The whole of humanity, sitting on a subterranean bubble, of fear and sorrow blaming others for their suffering. Going about their normal day of highs, lows and busy-ness, it's there under the surface, fed by imputations of self-hood, and visions of separative existence two primal reactions to body-ness: Fear is the sense of threat generated by the appearances of 'other' and the possibility of loss, from the most superficial to the deepest traumas of survival, devoid of deep understanding that the truest treasure can never be forfeited. Sorrow is the sense of loss when the walls of assumed separation are constructed for fear's sake, creating insurmountable insularity, barriers to love and connectedness, choking off forms of nourishment in the ropes and cords of defined bounds and limitations. Touching the bubble is most uncomfortable, spend our lives in frantic avoidance, but for some the inevitable occurs and descent into realms hitherto avoided, arrives the dark night of the soul, a gauntlet and rite to innate freedom when the bubble bursts, self bounds are snapped, world view is shattered, leaving spacious destruction in the blissful aftermath. May 18, 2001 (2 of 2)