Tuesday, March 6, 2012

the sound of my soda

I love this time of day.  It is beautiful.  So, very beautiful.  Because my kids are not here to yell at/or to be yelled from, same with husband.  It's the only time I have, to experience this stillness.  Even at night, I can tell that it's not that quiet.  They snortle, they toss and turn, they can wake up at any moment and ask for stuff.

But now, I hear the bird chirp outside my door, a distant car.  And my soda, next to me, making that cheerful churpling bubble noise.  How often do I ever hear that, or notice it?

Soda does have some strange spiritual connections, as it turns out.  And a history of danger too!  Jason Priestley, the "father of soda pop," was a victim of arson in 1785 to his home and church, in retaliation for his unorthodox beliefs and writings.  Don't worry, it has a happy ending because, like many religious misfits, he escaped to America, ye ole land where it's fit to be weird, religiously anyway.

Not only that, but I also have read about an intruiging suggestion from an African spiritual teacher, who explains that, the best way to contact one's ancestors, is to pour soda water onto the ground, and ask for them.  Now that is cool.  Those bubbles are magical!

There are two reasons I haven't tried that yet:
(1) I am just not sure I am ready to make contact with the underworld, and
(2) My soda is too expensive to just pour on the ground, being overpriced stevia sweetened such as it is.

No comments:

Post a Comment