Most stories, many – regardless of boundary lines, start on a river. Here, the calmness is split with a hammer dropped from the calls around the world for us to wake up. To charge into something of substance. Tangibility. Branches from the surrounding trees are swaying in hopes of grabbing the tool and passing it on to those who need to smash down barriers.
It’s going to be a long struggle, so we must eat along the way. In Mexico City, Quesadillas are served early. Just from the picture, we can taste the melted cheese and crispness of the tortilla. Perfect in every way. The taste is going to stay with us like the guardian angels that Paulo Coelho always speaks about.
From the South Bronx to the concrete floor of a revolution. What was once marked on trains as modern hieroglyphics, now stands on the ground of revolutions in a land that was the birthplace of hieroglyphics. The future is outlined and colored in by sacrifice and the unwillingness to accept being ruled over. It cycles.
Textbooks outlining plans on how to deal with each other are all there. In Dubai, the felines take over for a bit, keeping warm the words that are being cultivated on pages taken from trees that once swayed over rivers in Australia. Connections beyond what we see occur on the daily. Will you stop? Who will you listen to?
Windowsill in Berkley sends an invite to the cat in Dubai: Dateline, world – we are in need of someone similar to your stature to lay here and take in the breeze – feel the sun – make the space occupied so that we may see how truly valuable it is. Please respond with a stretch and a yawn. We thank you. The spot is waiting. It is.
Somewhere near the East Village, while wife and child are asleep, a man enjoys a cup of coffee while watching Nottingham Forest v Queens Park Rangers via the internet. Ultimate connection. Non-stop. We can cheer from a distance and hear the roar of thousands in a stadium through the machines. If all wars were fought in the confines or rules and decided outcomes, perhaps the walk home afterwards might not be as brutal. We may be learning.
Leading the scholars in their outlines for a new rule book, a young child asks that the pens be put away and we all just start cleaning up the ground where we stand. Just that small space. It is now, when we step into the area that has been recently cleaned, the souls of our shoes remain uncluttered. You can draw your analogy from that last time and let it resonate for a few days. It shall still be there.
In the right-hand corner of the photo, you can see the mailbox, holding a letter, from the child in cairo. He says he’ll be visiting soon. He’ll be bringing flags that are being sent to him by everyone connected to this story. The hope is that, when the wind picks up and blows, it will create an even greater breeze so that the elders who are out of frame can relaxed in an elongated moment of freshness.
Music stops for the moment of thanks from the author. We are all the authors mind you. This woman, on her Sunday, while the world was on river banks or participating in revolutions, went into to work and earned her paycheck. We’ve all performed those tasks, wondering what to do next. It is in those moments of wondering that newness exists. Still, she is part of the story because of her willingness to hustle. Respect.
But before you run inside and loose yourself, take a glance at these two on the ice. Gliding on human invention towards what is most human. If you look over their connected hands, you can see, in the distance, a young girl just starting out, alone, figuring that before she can even think about a partner, she must find herself.
..and it is often through literature that we do. Jumping through time. Examining wars. How prisoners can remember and put it all down so that perhaps, just this once, we don’t have to relive it to learn. What has become classic sends vibrations through all of us. The passing of a book to another is the passing of all the finger tips that have touched the pages before. The intimacy of words.
Through the touches of the fingers and the chemicals that make up the ink, we see that deconstruction is, at times, enjoyable. On a sunny day when most are relaxing, a room in Portugal is attempting to remember the elements that we need to exist, so he can exist, so the continuation of knowledge pushes forward. A figure of a figure echoes the ice skaters.
Echoes are heard. In San Pablo California, the toys of children sit below the universal language that unifies our thoughts. Numbers. Compounds. Facts. But those can change, and – when, meaning starts to falter, we hug our teddy bears and remember that the nightmares are erased by waking from the dream and experiencing what life is waiting for you.
On the road again looking for the signs. What can you see. Drive Through. Can you see it. Understand what the universe is telling you. Move through the obstacles and let the world exist through your understanding of it. Inside the mind of the teddy bear from the picture before, he understands life from the love he was give. Drive Through. Drive Through.
There are times, however, in your push through it all, that you must stop and reflect. Here, inside this mosque, which is inside a city some consider to be the most modern in the world, a student takes a moment for their moment. Stillness. God. However you want to view that God. However you wish that God to answer you. If there is an answer. If there is a question.
Back inside a start up company in Salt Lake City, there is no rest on a Sunday. They too are using the great connector to try and reach the world. Here, in our story, in this global literary mash up, Salt Lake City and Dubai can reflect off each other see that they exist because of each other. Literature connects the world. Can we see this now? In the distance, the background again, books on the shelf wait to be used for their purpose. We shall be patient.
Of course, there are times when you just want to turn it all off by turning it on.
Through the screen, you can see the sun looking to battle the snow for seasonal supremacy, but winter is still the champion here. Undefeated and all accounted for. If you look from the bottom, it would appear the warmth has a chance, but glancing to the top of the screen, the icicles sharped like fangs waiting to bit all that do not bend to winter’s will.
Over in Manilla, Philippines, we witness a sublime victory. Humans have moved out of the picture of perfection and left, inside the frame, the very vehicles that can be used to navigate lightly over what the world has provided. The man behind the wire screen in the picture before can almost melt the ice by imagining taking a walk in a perfectly worn pair of kicks.
The message from above is transmitted from the wires sticking out of the snow now that the footsteps have disappeared, and the limbs attached to them are no longer fit to be the messenger. It is of no matter, because with this story, we are destroying restrictions and opening lines of communications so that now, when you see a map of the United States, you will notice this town in Ohio, bouncing off the town in Egypt, reflecting off the world in Toronto.
Everyone in the midwest is melting now from envy. The world might be melting right now with envy. But do not. The world rotates, so with the frozen fields of the top. the blue of the ocean melts on the beach and allows for flight to take place above it. Now you know it exists. Now you can move from your block.
In from the cold, there are people who become neighborhood institutions. You have one wherever you are. Whoever you are. Whatever your neighborhood looks like. It is the music that gets us through those moments when the needles on the compass break apart and direction is left up to instinct. Chords become dance and we’re all relieved.
Hello. I’m a player in a race you may have read about. I won because of literature. Reality held me in one form of motion for so long – for so much of my species’ existence. Now, we wake and we have already crossed the finish line. Please, walk at my pace if you’d like to discover the secrets to being victorious. I will tell you but you need to understand my way of speaking. The music from the man in the picture above me is a nice intro.
Everyone go to their cupboards and get whatever teas you have. Go on. The story will be here. Please believe it is something special to do so. (Start reading after you have come back with your tea). Now, you are all sitting around the giant table of the world enjoying a cup of tea. The steam from the top is clearing you. The book of Mr. Coelho has taught us well. You have just had tea with the world.
Now that you’ve been warmed with your global tea, take a walk on the ice and see if you can find a sweetheart to make their way down the road with you. Again, to walk it alone is reflective but to make duplicate footsteps is a memory. We want to show that now that we’ve sat at the table together, our footsteps echo each other. Is the tea not warm enough to help you through the journey?
Well thankfully, at the end of the path, there is man in Seattle waiting to pour you a nice glass of wine in exchange for your tales of the journey you have taken. How many bottles have been finished to tell a tale? An interlocking of souls of wine that has been made for thousands of years. At the table, please, sit, it’s okay if you’re not dressed for the occasion. There is no code here.
Of course, the best part about sharing a bottle of wine with people you don’t know are the oddities they bring with them. After all, we all have it in our souls. The strange and untold worlds we visit. TS Eliot would dress up like a goblin and run around the back alleys of his university at night. What do you do? What happened to these play pals they were rescued from the forgotten box. They now live. Will you forget them? Another glass? Yes, perhaps another after that.
Away from the alcohol, a child is left along to make valentine’s day cupcakes for his teacher on Monday. There is nothing quite like the first crush we have on a teacher. In many ways, for many of us, it is our first love. Mrs. Oarwasher, Kindergarden, Los Angeles, if you are out there, let me tell you that it was you!
A flight is about to take off and you’ve drank too much and tripped very hard on your memories. What a magnificent fall. But we are humans. We move. Explore. Frontiers are waiting. Even in this time of rest and hibernation, we’re on the move and fighting through airports -looking for worlds that may hold us more than our own. It is all our own. It is not ours at all.
Your ride to the airport is here, but it’s in Wisconsin. Take that road back and follow the steps that the others have taken. There are doors and houses all along the way to help guide you. We’re guiding each other. It’s possible now. Remember where you put your tea? Do not worries, there are kettles brewing across the world because everyone believes. Drive slow there Midwest, we know there’s been so much celebrations the past few days.
Ice drips and moves downstream to New Zealand, where oxygen is created in record time for us to take in and continue trough that paths that are rarely paved with only cement. You have to push back the leaves, or, in some instances – in many instances, stop and have a rest under them, so you can appreciate what is already there. What exists.
More from Dubai. Amazing. No, it’s not from just one camera. They were connected through a reach our across the world. They have your pass for you. Understand the words. Don’t forget when you’re in the office and someone tells you to do what should be done instead of what is in your heart to do.
While we wait for during delays, there is time to construct. It is not until your plans fall apart that we are able to think. The space of the unexpected takes over. Airports around the world are experiencing this. People in each of those chairs have missed their connections. It is time to make yours.
It is in crowds that you see glimpses of yourself. Searching for comfort in the start of a race, there is nothing to be won except for participation. The pace is kept by humanity and each of you are setting it. With the slightest touch. With the easiest glance. Lasting.
Somewhere in the middle of this day, a fan hears from a legend and the day is made. Reach out to those who have touched you and that energy will be returned to you. We have the tools to connect. Look, you are still here, reading, feeling the world with you. Even after your travels on ice, tea together, wine, and a look into the mind of a teddy bear. You’re human.
We are drawing towards the end of this week’s story, and once again Dublin invites us to sit. The river we started with in Australia has lead us here. There is shade if you need it. Water is communicating with the leaves above. The Ghost of Walt Whitman is skipping stones in the pond while James Joyce cleans his glasses and wonders why the future is so slow to catch up to him.
Our thoughts now drift again, the music on the radio with a dial that’s been turned by the hands of the world – settling on a mash up of music that has samples for us all. We’ve been raised on Hip Hop, and the way it trains our ears and our minds, the ability to unite is there – just at the end of this road. The secret revealed later: There is no end, just another place for us to visit and understand.
There are choices to make now. Revolutions open doors. Will we be wise this time? We are interlocked. Feel what you have learned during this story and spread it.
The answers you give send vibrations throughout the world.