While today remains in the first week of December, I cannot but think of the month's last. Because of this enduring diet, a streak that has now extended for 171 days, I can place 2020 with its Fellow Fours brethren of 1988, 1992, 1996, 2000, 2004, 2008, 2012, 2016 and all of their emotions therein, as a year that has impact on today and the years that will follow.

And while I anticipate with open arms mixed with a tinge of anxiety to whatever my return to social media will look like (I suspect a focused approach), I recognize the wisdom of my avoidance of Net News for most of the year, especially as I began to follow ever so hesitantly that which everyone thinks is so important...* sigh *...I find it's trivial with its trivia. And there's just these waaaaaay out of balance emotions expressed via emotionless avatars. "Check your eyebrows, folks! If there's tension there, simma down!"

I can credit that application to all the meditation work I did earlier this year, something I'm reminded of as I gaze intently at this sea & sand candle next to me.

I suppose all of this stems from the simple fact that time is mostly a bunch of filler between bubbles in time. As such, should my soul growl in these irrelevant spans? Or worse, detract from the bubble? That's the weird characteristic of the bubble: generally, you don't know you're in one of those special moments until you leave. But, I gotta admit, having furrowed eyebrows over something that has nothing to do with me has never been a bubble. It has all been just packing material.