Making Bubbles, It’s a Life Saving Thing!

Bubbles... I never thought I would be inspired by bubbles, but here we go; I also never thought I would take time to write again (but that’s an other story).

I was making bubbles for my son who is nearly three years old. At his age, there is nothing better than bubbles: making them or poking them, best rip ever! For me, at that moment, it was just because I couldn’t do anything more. I was tired by a horrible pain that got me stuck on the floor of our living room. And the only thing I was thinking was what I can do to make him busy (and tired!). Because if he is not busy, he is not tired, and if he is not tired, no nap time, and so rest (or in this case complaining time) for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my time with him, AND I love my time with myself.

"Balls," he said. Well for him bubbles are balls at the moment. Fortunately he got some early in the week. "Great, excellent idea!" I thought first, it won’t take me too much energy. "Let’s do it!" Oh boy how wrong I was!

So I took what he gave me, a really long hoop to make bubbles (bigger than what I could remember). And I tried.

I took a deep breath in and... OUCH, just got my back raging again. Not able to blow at all. At this point, shall I say that my son was not at all concerned by my pain? But I mean not at all. Nada. I started to feel not just the totals primitive rage from my back telling me to give up this insane idea of breathing, but also the more delicate and proper rage from my supermom-that-can-face-anything sense telling me to suck it up and blow (no matter the pain)

Let’s try again.

I took an other deep breath in and blewwwwwwww.

OUch! My back is still not happy, but less in rage mode. Ok so there is some progress.

I took an other deep breath in and blewwwwwwww.

AHHHH I can feel space into my ribs again, not like normal though but I could breath a bit more and my back didn’t cringe or at least less.

I took an other deep breath in and blewwwwwww.

"WHOUAAAA," said my son. I have just made a big one. It’s like time itself was suspended to this bubble. I took my time to look at it, descending on the floor, vibrating of rainbow colours... POKE! My son poked it. Well it’s his job after all.

I took another deep breath in, and blew it fast all along the loop. My son was screaming of joy, running to poke them all. And my back was not. Hooray!

We kept doing it for a while.

I blew, he poked

Every time different.

I blew, he poked.

Blow fast and small, average bubbles come.

Blow gently and bigger bubbles might come.

It made me realise how much breathing is so powerful.

As I was sitting on the floor, not able to move, I didn’t even check how I was still breathing. Also why should I? Breathing is so natural! The thing is when pain shows up, it shrinks everything. Literally! So my body was trying to help me by reducing as much as possible the energy needed to cover any essential action to keep going, breathing including. Obviously, it didn’t ask me before doing that. It’s part of the contract, you see. He does what he thinks (and knows) he has to do to keep me going, to survive. Otherwise, I think my brain will kind of explode if I was aware of EVERY decision they make without telling me.

However I still have the ability to make my breath better, more efficient or useful, or just more than surviving, living. That’s the marvelous thing about our bodies, we have the ability to show it other ways to work.

Also for me breathing is not just bringing the oxygen into our bodies and pulling out what it doesn’t need anymore. I believe it’s more than just a supplier.

You create space in your body when you breath in, so you allow things to come into you.

You blow out what you breath in with the shape of your lips, and the power you allow yourself to give.

You can blow ice like Superman or Glover over houses like the Big Bad Wolf. I'd rather blow bubbles. It makes something beautiful to the world, my body breathing and my son happy.

It’s up to us what we welcome and what we let go.

By the way, my pain was relieved, but not gone and that’s an other story.