11 Jun Fireworks in the garden

We’re sitting on the couch, just starting a movie, when my wife calls out, “Paul, look!” Simultaneously, she jumps up and runs to the kitchen door. Between the branches of the plum tree, a spot the size of an unfolded newspaper is burning brightly. The tree is almost leaning against the garden shed. Its branches hang halfway over its roof. The flames are causing the windows of the garden shed to flare up. Behind those windows is my bookstore. In my mind, I can see all my stress-free writings, including the garden shed itself, burning before the fire department arrives. “Get water!” my wife calls. She’s managed to grab a corner of the wish balloon and pulls it to the ground. The paper envelope lies scorched on the ground. The still-burning core stubbornly fights the water with a hissing sound until it gives up the fight and goes out

A second assignment
Then the doorbell rings. My wife opens the door, and I hear someone talking excitedly. I decide to go and check it out too. It’s the neighbor three doors down. She’s completely distraught. “I’m so sorry,” she says, “I never should have done that. I thought it would go straight up, but there was wind, and then…” she interrupts and takes a deep breath, “then it came into your garden.” We agree. “It’s good that you came right away,” my wife says, “it was burning in our tree, and if we hadn’t reacted immediately, it could have become dangerous.”

The neighbor kept apologizing, as if hoping to reverse the flow of time. She’d wanted to do her teenagers a favor. They’d released the balloon from the balcony, and the wind had taken it under its wing, sending it flying straight toward our plum tree. Now that fireworks are banned here, her goodwill had caused a real fire. After extinguishing the fire, the second task was to calm our neighbor down. We weren’t sure which of the two required the most energy.

Panic
A wish balloon is magically beautiful when launched in safe conditions, but extremely dangerous in a densely populated area with trees and wooden houses. If the balloon touches a branch, its paper covering catches fire and immediately bursts into flames. The wind carries the flames in all directions.

Back on the couch, the stress reliever in me awakens, and I observe how my body reacts. Is there still tension? Is the startle reaction still palpable?

At the same time, I realize that the neighbor must be feeling the most tension. Her reaction bordered on panic. Wrapped in all her apologies was an enormous resistance within her, best described as: “I don’t want this to have happened.” And although this reaction is motivated by the best intentions, it is precisely this resistance that hinders the healing process. Panic perpetuates itself.

*This post has been automatically translated from Dutch