Though life is made up of mere bubbles'Tis better than many aver,
For while we've a whole lot of troubles
The most of them never occur.
Nixon Waterman
The last question listed is, basically, "Really, truly -- is this what I want to be doing? And what could I do to make this moment more delightful?" I was in my office on a Friday on the last of the week's day-long conference calls with people in distant time zones, my joints creaking from sitting way too long in one position, and I asked myself this question. I gazed around the office and my eyes settled on a tiny green plastic container shaped like a champagne bottle that I'd gotten as part of my 20-year work anniversary a year ago. I picked up the little bottle which held a soapy solution and had a tiny bubble-blowing wand attached to the inside of the cap.
As I continued to listen to the call, I blew bubbles, lots of bubbles, which floated briefly in the sunlight in my office like little beacons of joy. I glanced over at the small fountain I have on a corner of my desk surrounded by six tiny laughing buddhas. And I smiled.
