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It's comfortable in your own bladder (symbol image)
Photo: Kan Taengnuanjan/EyeEm/Getty Images/EyeEm
The smallest bubble I know is my bathtub.
In the worst Corona times, I spent a lot of time there watching the iridescent bubbles of my bubble bath while hiking.
That can be very interesting.
And insanely metaphorical.
There are bubbles that meet briefly like old friends and then part again.
Others give up their autonomy and unite into something greater.
Some form iridescent images—ducks, dolphins, island landscapes—only to drift apart and be lost forever.
Such a bubble is something beautiful, one might think.
However, bubbles in the form of attitude and information bubbles have fallen into disrepute a bit.
Since our search and click behavior on the Internet has been analyzed and algorithms have shown which content fits our profile, there has been mirroring: We almost only encounter attitudes and desires that we already have.
Finding odd and contradictory things on the Internet requires a targeted search and overcoming one's own laziness.
It is not only corona deniers and other conspiracy theorists who gather in ideological echo chambers.
The democratic mainstream has also made itself comfortable in analogue and digital microuniverses.
I'm just as little an exception as the young people that Federal President Steinmeier wants to beam out of their bubble as a compulsory social service.
We who agree with our opinions confirm and encourage each other.
This is incredibly boring and quite unhealthy for your own development.
It is fatal for middle-aged people with a tendency to mental ossification.
Claustrophobic escapism
The walls of my bladder became too tight very quickly during the pandemic.
When the number of infections rose again in April and the world teetered between war, inflation and the insane behavior of insane despots, I had an almost claustrophobic fit of escapism.
I had to get out - and booked a flight to Curaçao.
Not okay in terms of air conditioning, but unexpectedly effective, as it turned out.
With every kilometer that separated me from the old continent, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Every morning I would sit in my cabin drinking Nescafé and staring at a huge heliconia glowing red between the leaves of a banana tree.
Around 7am a hummingbird came by to collect nectar, after which I packed my bathing suit and drove to one of the beaches, which to describe as breathtaking would be an understatement.
Then I dived into my new underwater bubble, where I met huge fish in the wildest colors.
It was shockingly beautiful and unreal.
The people around me seemed to feel the same way.
Many seemed somehow inspired and treated each other lovingly in a distanced manner.
A slight self-consciousness hovered over everything, as we had just woken up from our corona coma and were carefully feeling the new freedoms.
Nobody here confronted me with contrary opinions - but I rediscovered the beauty of a world beyond my job bubble with daily horror reports.
It was a glide from one friendly bubble to the next, a soft landing in lukewarm Caribbean waters.
Karl Marx in the evening light
Back home, I made contact with less comfortable bubbles.
Engaged in conversations with semi-criminals and conspiracy theorists.
Tried to offer help to the homeless and impoverished without offending them.
Quarreled with Putin supporters.
These were exhausting, often pointless and bizarre debates.
But they shook me up and brought me back to real life.
During my summer vacation I went to Chemnitz, where a symphony was premiered under the strict gaze of Karl Marx and peace was urged in the Ukraine.
The evening sun illuminated the quiet, concentrated audience in front of a post-socialist backdrop.
The people I met here were so polite, approachable and humorous that I almost came to the conclusion that I had lived in the wrong state before.
mountain bubble
We visited acquaintances in the Ore Mountains.
You know, the area that was long marked dark red on the Corona maps, the home of those who refuse to vaccinate, only just under 50 percent of the population in Saxony are fully immunized.
In the Erzgebirge district, the AFD was the strongest party in the federal elections with more than 30 percent.
This area is a real bubble, isolated on the mountain, shaded by Grimm's fairytale forests.
Where almost everyone has a workshop where the famous candle arches and Christmas tree pendants are made.
In GDR times, parts of the Ore Mountains belonged to the "Valley of the Unsuspecting" in which western television could not be received.
That was long ago.
But one thing the people have apparently saved from socialism: cohesion.
Our friends are self-employed and have three small children.
They live in a house full of stairs and steps with a bewildering number of small rooms that seems to spread out like a living being.
Everywhere people are working, building, expanding.
Hard-working people live here who, despite their own health problems, care for relatives with dementia, run after their nimble children and are also involved in the village community.
Everyone helps everyone.
More midlife columns
Gender Pay Gap: Why do Germany's female soccer players get less than they deserve? A midlife column by Christina Pohl
Dirty arguments: Am I a dodger? Stefan Weigel's midlife column
Bloody National Day: The Broken States of AmericaThe Midlife Column by Marc Pitzke, US Correspondent
Russia's War in Ukraine: Where Does the Violence Come From? Juno Vai's Midlife Column
During our three-hour stay, I counted about a dozen visitors—helpers, suppliers, craftsmen, colleagues, customers, and three cheerful young girls who were picking berries on behalf of the church to relieve the lady of the house.
A Ukrainian refugee worked in the workshop, who told me that he had to leave a daughter behind at home, which his mother-in-law then sold to a childless couple.
A hair-raising, hard-to-verify story.
In the confusion of comings and goings, the host found time to ask my opinion on Putin and the attack on Ukraine.
We had an interesting conversation, despite different assessments.
Everything was different on this mountain than in my city bubble.
More collective, more responsible, more social and far from the usual clichés.
"Good water rupture," I thought and was quite grateful.
Someone who helped to clear away prejudices and showed me how different life in Germany can be.
I've now made a little bubble hopping plan to do at home.
And I've been really excited for a long time.
Because the next bubble is waiting right around the corner.
