What are those marbles from my fishbowl doing in the sink? I asked myself this Sunday morning as I was getting my coffee. Wait, where is my Beta fish tank?

That Damn CAT! My daughter, a Corona refugee has a black cat. First, it spilled a glass of water and ruined her laptop and now my Beta Globe. Every morning for years when I sat down for breakfast I would tap on the glass and call Fishy up for its breakfast. We had a relationship. Everything I know about enlightenment, I learned from that fish.

We should start calling Jane (that’s the cat’s name) Corona, the Corona Cat who comes to destroy all you hold dear. One moment you are having breakfast, and the next you are splattered all of the flood, your whole world in broken bits, and you flop around gasping for water.

What can you do but dance. Just don’t cut your feet on the broken glass.

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The world is a fishbowl, and I am the fish. Worlds can break, but as long as I have the water of God I’m OK.

It is only when I invest in the bowl, do I flop on the floor gasping for God.

I swim in my world of imagined shapes, and what I believe in shapes my mind. But the water is just water no matter what mind or world I swim in. I am always swimming in water going nowhere. Where can I go that water is not? I am always in water thinking I’m going somewhere in time.

The mind/world/bowl is transparent so I think I’m swimming in the kitchen. I cannot tell, I don’t notice that I’m swimming in a tiny globe.

My world is a fish globe, a tiny drop of the ocean, and in it, I’m content for where can I go that the ocean is not?

At weddings we break the glass and stomp on it (Jewish weddings), at a toast, we throw the glass in the fireplace. We launch a ship by breaking the bottle. Drink the Corona Toast and celebrate.

When the fish globe breaks, we dance. with joy, not for the loss of the world, but from the liberation of knowing that I’m not attached to it. All that went into holding the globe is now free energy. What shall I be?

We are held prisoner by invisible shapes, a transparent bowl of the mind. When that bowl breaks I am thrown free in unlimited possibility.

The anxiety of the fish globe is that I know the ocean is somewhere, but no matter how far I swim I cannot find it. When the globe breaks I see that it was but a circle of time.

When Corona Cat comes, my world is a pushover.

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When the fish globe breaks, it is not another globe we go to. What breaks is the imaginary globe we wish we were swimming in. “The world could be better than this,” we think, bemoaning the shape of our life.

When the fish globe breaks, we suddenly realize that we must swim in the globe we’ve got. There is no other bowl than this one, no other water than this. This is IT!

How wonderful! Now I swim as if I’m swimming in the world for the first time. Everything is fresh and original. This is the best shape I could be in, the shape I’m in now because it is the only possible shape.
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We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
(TS Eliot)

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There is no dance
but on the broken glass.
For it is here we find
the Blood of Jesus.

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 For me when something of value breaks, I get a great metaphor. My writing pours out of the crack in the dam. My spirit rushes to the sea, free once again to swim with the clouds.