I have a meditation technique that I’ll spill. I do it when I get to the “hub” step of Dan Siegel’s Wheel of Awareness, which is really more information than you need unless you’re interested in that sort of thing, and I am because I’ve found it incredibly healing. When I enter the hub, I picture it as a boat or bubble (or even a boat inside a bubble), and this bubble is resting atop waves–some days the waves are rocky, and some days they’re calm. The bubble rides these waves as I remain perfectly still inside it. (My faith provides an additional component–a captain of the boat, one who helps still me and the waves, and utters, “Everything is going to be okay.”)
Waves can dislodge us and disorient us and sweep us away. But I’m trying to remember–especially as I watch my kids enjoy them–that waves can also be jumped, surfed, and played with. Right before they bring us home.
Bubbles, by the way, are so hot right now. At least here in Sydney, where, since the lockdown began, singles have had the option to create a bubble with one other person who can visit their home. Now, kids get their own bubble of three friends. Which means that in the last week, home playdates have reentered the chat.
I haven’t sat down and drawn diagrams because our bubbles are pretty simple and emerged immediately. The boys’ friends are, conveniently, the children of my friends, and luckily for us, these friends have kids who are exactly The Kid’s and Little Brother’s ages. When I broached the subject of playdates a few days ago, LB’s eyes lit up and TK’s grew wary, as expected. Reentry reactions will mirror our own personalities, and TK and I will, predictably, have the most hesitation and trouble with it all. But when I picked them up after three hours with their friends yesterday, I could immediately tell it had done us all good.
With my time, I headed over to the beach and completed my first swim of the season without a wetsuit, then shivered my way home to a hot shower and a vampire show on Netflix. Meanwhile, the boys were shown a slideshow designed by their friends that detailed the fun they would have, then proceeded to play and eat their way through that fun. I appreciated them so much more the rest of the day. I think we’d all forgotten how good regular life can be.
These bubbles that precede and coalesce to form our reentry into the post-lockdown world are the provision of a system that some call socialist, but to me just feels…like compassion? And compassion feels like such a healing balm right now, after the three months of winter and restrictions we’ve had. It feels like protection, and kindness. A safe way of venturing back into the water. (Which, by the way, still requires a wetsuit. Lesson learned.)
In the past season, the boys have grown in ways I’ve only been able to pick up on because we’ve been stuck together. Away from the water, they’ve somehow become braver with it: TK hurls his plastic pirate ship (upon which he’s bestowed the name Guinevere) into the waves and watches it return and re-turn to shore, every time. LB beckons me to join him as he dances and splashes and, I swear, has a singular conversation with each wave as it washes over his feet. Every single one is an occasion of joy for him. It is instructive, and magical, just like they are. The over and over of it all: of faith, of learning, of breathing, of life. This steady dunking and resurfacing, pulling and receding, going out and coming back, grace as a bubble reminding us that when we believe/know it’s all going to be okay, we can have a bit of an adventure in the meantime.