Though it doesn’t sell magazines or make for awards for newscasters, it is love in the shadow of destruction that saves the world. From the protests, we see what we’re fighting for. We are there, all of us, demanding to be heard. We are not asking, we are living regardless of your laws. This starts the day. In the background, clothes hang off fire escapes like they do anywhere in the world. But this is Egypt, the center of history, the light of the present.
Walking up to the young couple, a fan of the soon-to-be champs offers a cake for their celebration and a gift of a lifelong invitation to sit down at the table and exchange stories. There will be many of war, but many of children and “Do you remember when’s” – It is the chain of humanity that extends this wedding party. Our understanding is the gift.
“I’ve lived that human life before,” says the old man from Australia. “You should learn from the lives I have sacrificed to be the creature I am. But you cannot hear me. You do not understand my language of movement. Of feeling. Of expression.
“But me – I’m here behind the glass as well,” says the fish trying to stay away from the top of the tank. “Did you not notice me when looking at the picture. It was the object closest and most familiar to you. Be wise what you watch.”
“And I,” added the plant inside the tank. “Though not a creature, I am life. How will you honor me? Have you paused to look at anything growing from the ground this day?”
A moment to pause.
Outside a window in Washington DC, a man traveling across the country has a few minutes before a flight and thinks back on his life. Will you travel with him on his thoughts? Through his mistakes. His Triumphs. He physical explosions and emotions that stay sucked inside his gut and almost drove him mad?
The same that made Ginsberg HOWL into the night:
“Who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for an Eternity outside of time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade.”
-Allen Ginsberg, HOWL 1955
And we remember that each step we move through this planet with is a blessing because there are wings of those who couldn’t escape what eats away without notice. Without reason. Just by nature itself. But we fight and remember and believe that those who are holding back the cure because they make more money in treatment that if they heal us will, at some point, understand what they are holding back. They do not realize that we are not going to leave the gate. We’ll rip it down.
Back in Africa, while there is a revolution taking place, the essentials must be taken care of. A little girl waits at home for her father to bring home her favorite cereal. Did you complain waiting in a line for your groceries this week? Inside the box of cereal, the toy is waiting to be played with. It is the hands of a child that give life to toys, as the games played inside the imagination of such youngsters might be the only ones that can reach the men dressed in army clothes watching the tank, who are watching the shoppers.
The child leaves Egypt and takes flight on her new toy airplane to Chicago, where Sunday morning shopping for events that will leave us all sitting down starts to commence. The volume. Passing through the aisles of everything, the muffled sounds coming from the cereal aisle leade the two adventure seekers that way. Buried inside, hundreds of other toys are waiting for children to become owners. Perhaps some adults might take the chance as well and remember their true selves.
But there has been an escape. Now sitting on a windowsill in Cumbria, blocking the view of a Sunday, but still encased in plastic protection, a collector’s item stands between the age of wonder and the age where we feel the need to create machines to replace us. It might the human gene that is impossible to deny. The need to move forward in though. Will we continue to expand or build more to destroy, making it all the more difficult to even shop. The phone rings again. Invitations to come and taste the delicious.
How sublime and rare is the concept of dessert? We cannot refuse the invitation this time. Time. When is there enough of it to not have to run out into the world and forget to digest. This is our second invite of the day for a taste of life – We wish that our tongues are tasted by those who are in the middle of drought so that the colors can fill the branches and extend into life.
The conversation grows heavy, so in Alberta, there are kind enough people to brew us a decent pot of coffee for us to have a talk that yields results. This Sunday is going to break the form of 24 hours and start to dictate to time what we are capable of. We are breaking from the confines of what we’ve been told. One kitchen, however, cannot hold everything we need to make it right. We all like it in different ways.
In Iowa, a cupboard is opened up and the world is allowed to go through and take what they need to make their cup of coffee however they like. As we watch other hands move through and choose, we might discover new ways of making. Of creation. Of knowing. Of experiencing. Of tasting. Remember that tongue we were talking about – NOW you know what we were talking about.
See now, down in Tennessee, with all of the kitchens now open, we can create magical goodness that carries on taste. Which bleeds into memories. Which is written into history. This, then, becomes fact for the next generation who realized exactly where they should look, and, more importantly, how they should go about looking for love. It is the exchange.
Back up to Canada where decisions are being made. More importantly, a Sunday morning exists and is used fully because the freedom to make those choices is understood. It’s realized. But do we realize that these moments of contemplation, the RIGHT to contemplate, have been fought for and died over? Again, it is not the choice itself, but the ability to choose that makes the world as it is. We all must remember that.
At the end of the day, the nothing on the screen allows the eyes to focus and set sights on travel yet again. Through all of the stories we create, through the world we explore, we can move. We can reach through the skin and plastic skin we have created to elude restrictions.
And we all to different joys. The road moved on. The Waffle House in the background where if you go once, the waitress’ inside call you Sugar and remember what you ordered. Cooks marry the hostess and have kids who will one day push the gas pedal on the car to take down the road outside. Leaving on on the same path some of us were delivered on. We are looking for comfort.
Of course, some of us have evolved past the point of having to make decisions. Some of us act on what we know. It is action. Necessity. There is no invite for us to sit at your table, but our diet is much more sophisticated than yours. Our refrigeration process is the “Green” energy you spend millions on developing when it’s right outside your door. Though, of course, it’s difficult to remember all the time where we’ve buried our treasure. No doubt that’s some of you draw maps. We’ll remember that.
If there is to be a revolution, an understanding of each other, young men like these in Dubai staying up to all hours of the morning putting together underground radio shows outside the reach of advertising will lead the way. Even in Egypt, which our eyes started this Sunday Morning Story with, people took to the streets using social networking capabilities. Social means being with each other. We inspire. These radio signal was fed into us all. We are eating information.
And it’s discussed everywhere. Everything is so polished now. So round. So smooth. Circles are everywhere. The radio station broadcasting out of Dubai plays through this bowling alley in the UK, and while games are had and touches on shoulders suggest where the night is going – Information is being served again. We listen even if we do not hear.
Turning down the radio and putting on her slippers, a woman in Ashford UK absorbs the story of another woman who left it behind to discover god and tastes and what exists inside of her. The power of literature again transcends cultures and has the world experiencing stories – Just as you are right now by reading this. You are experiencing the world. Can you feel us all inside of you?
Back in the UK – and notice how many in the UK are adding chapters to this story – but back here, again, in the fog, Social Networking is being looked at under the microscope to see how the world is talking with each other. We are looking at how the world is listening to each other. As long as the world is watching each other, is experiencing each other – the toys inside those cereal boxes will all be free at some point.
They have their own way of listening to the world out in California, which, of course, is the same as listening in other parts of the globe that understands just how to pick a flower.
Up the coast to the the Bay Area, glass doors invited us all to slide open. To look out into your neighborhood and expand thought. Can you see the wires in the background? They are there so we can hear each other. Perhaps the bird flying around can get proper use. The leaves turn color and signify shifts in time. Is there a need for a watch?
..and look here. The colors of a painting couldn’t capture how the house on the left of this moment reflects the color of the sky, which we all can lay under and reflect on the hearts of the billions who want you to experience the beating. The girls are about to jump into the car wait for their food inside, and the smells are attracting the squirrels from Colorado and causing looks from neighbors who might want them to join in their feast. The wires above are how we can deliver messages.
The wires extend to Puerto Rico, but we are not interested transmissions. Looks at the hills. The painting has coming to life. We cry at the moment – at the sublime beauty of what has been created for us. Why do we need more? What is it inside of us that has us crawling over glass to get more than this. We all lay together and watch the sky. It is our reflection.
The speaker on the counter in a cafe in Tokyo is talking about the skies of Mexico City and Puerto Rico.
“Perhaps we can have an exchange program.”
“Is this an exchange program?”
“Isn’t that we all gathered here?”
Fantastic. Record scratch.
A young man in Portugal is listening to the same broadcast while studying for exams that will prepare him to lead. We need his heroic stance and determination. On this day when others are laying outside, and still others are avoiding tanks, he is in the middle of calculations. The Numbers are universal. Global understanding.
In Pennsylvania, using technology created by young men like those in Portugal long ago, Veggies are grilled in preparation for a celebration later in the day. Will legends be born from yet another victory or will the taste of this meal linger and not be eaten again? Remember, it is the taste that brings us back to that moment of reflection. There is no need to run from it. We are found.
Aha, the reach of a child is indeed amazing. There is no protective glass for those who want to play. Distance is broken. It is pure. Play. Listen to what Einstein said about it.
In one photograph, a lifetime is captured. The child takes it all in. He’s sees the family first in the faded pictures that, while they exist in the background, are the deepest in our hearts. Two elephants are actually mother and daughter jumping form the picture and into other forms. Life keeps moving and lives in other objects if the love is strong enough. We believe it is. Again, the book – literature, saves us in moments we believe cannot be saved. They can. We can.
Under these signs, we’ve all opened the door slow and looked for an answer in spirits that only provide what is temporary. Which is fine. Not everything needs to last. Not everything must exist forever. There are nights we just need to get through. These bottles though are open and passed around over the continents because we all understand pain. It is that understanding we drink to this evening. This morning. This expansion of a Sunday.
The passed bottle serves us well, because the heater may not be enough to keep us all warm. Perhaps a drop or two for the squirrels outside who must looks for their nuts. There is no shortage of Whiskey, so there should be no hesitation to pass the bottle. Inside the truck, the motor has stopped thinking. Machines need sleep. Where is this blanket?
In a warm window across the pond, a feline watches the ice form in Canada. She knows that life exists in the water that makes up the ice. Elements. Essential to us all. To ease the soreness in our throats that need to carry on the conversations. We are having them. Language falls away. We fall into each other. What a magnificent spectacle to listen to.
The joy. Absorb it. Understand its roots. They spread through all of us. Under the dragon, those playing the part are sweating from the material but feel the energy from the life they give out. We all gather around spectacle because we see our reflections in play. In art. In Literature. In the world that unfolds every moment around us. It is us. We dance together and the vibrations of those footsteps are our new language. Our new way of understanding. We are learning. Again. Through our stories.
As the day closes, we are exhausted but satisfied. Candles send evaporated materials back into the universe so that they can take form and shower on us all. So that our form can now reflect the life what we helped to create by listening. By opening the window and allowing each moment in fill us inside.
It is our story. One day. These exist in each moment.
How will you live?