The boy in a bubble.

The people in Times Square move along so mechanically. One could tell the tourists apart from everyone else by how they gawked at the millions of bright lights, the huge Coke bottles and the monstrous Cup of Noodles sign. And they were right to do so, these are amazing things, Back to the Future II-esque things. But even they, with their cameras and "don't mess with Texas" shirts quickly learned to shuffle along, fall in line. If you gawk too loudly at a limited-edition Superman #23 with Wonder Woman, you're a nerd. If you squeal because you found that "I Love Lucy" purse that will perfectly match those checkered heels you bought because they reminded you of the vitaminamin episode, for some reason, People will think you're odd.

New York is a beautiful city, even in the winter. And yes, at 12 degrees Fahrenheit, a bit chilly. But I never felt cold until I saw the ten-thousand-plus people on one square block each acting as if he or she were the only ones there.

I once read that communication is the key to life. Not food. Not water. Not Chicago Cubs tickets. Communication.

Without communication, we are merely boys and girls in bubbles, trapped inside our own hairy, or not so hairy, bubbles; shackled within the fortresses of our skulls. So, if one was to think about it, he or she would realize that we, to other people, are only what we communicate, or even, as the case may be, what we DON'T communicate.

So back to Times Square. How is it that people can just turn themselves off? Standing there, watching people move along like blood cells through capillaries, I began to wonder about the people walking by me here and there. That girl has real feelings, needs and wants. That man needs love and acceptance every bit as much as I do. I wonder if one of these people is related to a Circus person. Do any of them have a third nipple? That one! Inny or Outy? So many secrets to be known if only we could take the time to get to know them. But instead, we are doomed to walk along, eyes straight ahead.

If you smile at anyone you're either A) a child molester/homicidal rapist, B) on Ex. or some happy little derivative, or 3) recently escaped from a mental institution.

Now, I'm not talking about making best friends with every person on the subway. But why is it that we turn our blinders on to the beauty that is in every person's soul? Thanks to Christ, our bubbles are no longer dark, like bowling balls, but clear and bursting with color, like marbles! I don't understand how people can have the blank "I don't get the joke" look as their default faces when we've been told that the Kingdom of God is at hand.

We talk about showing kindness to our fellow man. But how many times do we fail to return the smile of the fella next to us? Once again, I'm not saying we should all take to the streets wearing "Jesus Loves You" sandwich boards and handfulls of "Billy Graham doe too" balloons, unless you wanna. But all I'm suggesting is that we just be mindful of what's around us. Let us not live our lives only behind doors. If we spend a little time outside of our heads, gawking at the beauty of our neighbor's soul as we would at a '05 Mustange or Minolo Blanik's, letting the world fill our senses, I think you'll be surprised that it can taste good and top off the tank.


If every choice is "Love" or "other"... Choose Love.