Bubble

As I'm still waiting for some unknown third party person to contact me about compensation for and replacement of my stolen radio, I am now on day eight of driving in silence. Whether the radio was tuned to a terrestrial station or functioning as a conduit for my iPod, I almost always drove with it on. Not having it available is an odd experience.

At first I treated the missing radio like a phantom limb. Soon after starting the car I would reach out to adjust the volume, but of course I was just reaching into a hole in the dash. I knew it was gone, but my brain was so used to conducting the ritual of tweaking the radio that it took awhile to stop doing it.

Weirder still, without a visible clock and nothing to listen to but traffic and the car's creaks and groans, time seems to fade away. In my little bubble I am buffeted by white noise and focused on the matter at hand, which just happens to be operating a heavy piece of machinery at varying speeds.

I ventured into another bubble inside my apartment tonight. I wanted to make apple dumplings--a venture that could have been met with more success, but I learned a couple things for next time--and became immersed in the activity while plugged into my iPod. (For those who humor my music-related posts, TV on the Radio was the artist soundtracking my baking.) I lost track of the time and merely enjoyed the activity that I was engaged in.

Knitting can do the same thing for me. It certainly did in the early days when I was stitching up scarves like nobody's business. As I find myself distracted and pulled every which way during the day, I must remind myself that time in the bubble can be invaluable. Maybe it comes while driving a silent commute, making a dessert, getting lost in a song, or working yarn with needles. Those moments of internal quiet are more precious than a radio stolen from a car...but I still want one back in there sooner than later.