I don’t mean cranking the music louder.

I don’t mean speaking at a high volume … on the edge of yelling.

I don’t mean being at a football game with 50,000 other cheering fans.

Actually, I’m not sure what I mean

Point Number One:  It wasn’t my hand on the knob.  But then … whose?

Point Number Two:  It hit me last night as I watched a stunning DVD – Meatloaf performing his hits with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra.  He and his partner in music Patti Russo were belting out the songs, often in face-to-face duets.  It was powerful, alive, “high volume”.

I felt myself getting bigger, arms lengthening, taking up more space on Earth.  I knew that any words coming out of my mouth would also be large, full of impact.

Point Number Three:  I’m sitting in Izy Coffee tapping away.  Even my fingers have a purpose.  And I’m taller … closer to heaven.

Plus the cappuccino sippers at nearby tables are shining.

***

Okay, Bruce.  No figuring out.  Just revel in it.

And now I’ve flown back sixty years, to an old TV commercial.  I just went to AI to stir my memory:

Madge the manicurist recommends Palmolive dishwashing liquid to a client as a way to soften her hands.  They both look down at the client’s hand immersed in a dish of green goo.

“Why, you’re soaking in it now!”

…

And so I soak