Thursday, December 18, 2008

Balloon People

Balloon People

I started this blog with the idea that I would try to recap the latest 2012 buzz appearing on the Net. But soon realized I couldn’t do a very complete job of that given my other responsibilities in life.

Then I thought the blog would just be a record of my perceptions and reflections as the world moves closer to the end of the Mayan Calendar. That made sense, after all – maybe my perceptions and reflections aren’t all that original or profound, but this is just a dairy of an ordinary life. Kind of like “Living in Aberdeen” except probably quite a bit more stressed out.

The problem with this is that I am actually a very private and reclusive person who seems to be in a near perpetual state of inner turmoil. Therefore writing each blog entry is something like a minor miracle, and I have almost given up trying to do it numerous times.

But then I tell myself - well, this is your experience. If you don’t chronicle it, no one else is going to. And who knows, maybe sometime later the whole progression will make a lot more sense.

So this morning an idea came about a continuation of the man on the bridge tale. I saw that all the people had big clumps of balloons which represented who they thought they were - their life stories bobbing above them on strings. And when two people would meet on the street they wouldn’t speak directly to each other.

The first guy would look up at his balloons and yell something like, “How are you today?” One of his balloons would sort of move around with that message.

And then one of the balloons in the other guy’s bunch would move in response to this question. And that other guy would also not be looking at the actual person in front of him but up at his own balloons. And he would yell back at them, “Oh not so good. I’ve got diabetes and my wife ran off with another man plus I just got laid off from work.”

And with each of these statements a different balloon would start bobbing around, which would make a succession of balloons respond in the first man’s group and so forth. And that’s how they communicated – or didn’t communicate.

But I didn’t get far enough along with the idea to make it into a complete story. Some days are just like that.


  1. I love your wrtitng and sharing and pics too lol. My ass is in a sling today from staying up too late here on your blog!!! I felt on fire in my convictions after coming home from the most moving experience with my Father ever in my life, he had been moved to tears... in sharing with me Marlas 4th symphony about a little boy who dies from lack of bread and goes to heaven, Marla wrote the end 'first', the heaven part. Growing up I would get the worst anxiety attacks and tummy ache when hearing classical music, except for the few times as a little girl that I would dance ballet with him, he was kinda distant behind the music. (your writing so resonated last night)as we sat there, he looked at me and said this is the closest to how God speaks, its the mountain top of music. I sat there on my Dads right side.... he is 79 and I am 48 now ...with tears flowing down our cheeks and for the first time I realized he has been speaking to me and expressing his love in a profond way that I could not percieve feel, hear, those who have ears let them hear! ;-)
    Popping balloons are pretty important events in the countdown to 2012 huh Nesia?... last night I felt like my hot air balloon had touched down for a landing.

  2. That is really beautiful. Thank you.