The start of this Sunday Morning Parade is lead by our two drum majors – letting the world know that regardless of how you step into the world, you’ll be the one in the leadership role if you believe that the self you put out there is 100 percent “You”. Of course, there are moments of pause and doubt, but in those times, why not just hop on your pink pony and go?
Of course, on this long journey, we’re going to need snacks, so it 0nly makes sense to stop off in Queens and have some treats that have been doing so many of us right for so long. Can you remember that snack you had in your moment of unsure steps? How did that taste in the back of your throat? Did it coat you enough to move with confidence down the next unknown alley? Remember please, we’re going to need your strength.
Strength comes from so many places, it’s quite absurd to believe that any of our divinity comes to one group of people. But we, those who have been connected by this Sunday Morning Story, are fully aware of this. We tear open our skin so that light cam emanate through us all. We sit down in this patch coming from Brisbane and warm ourselves on the front lawn. Morning Vitamins sent from overseas that are unavailable in stores.
Outside of the sunshine, taking a break in the shade, an old couple strolls through their side of the world without much thought of where their steps are going to lead. “You were up so early today,” she says. “Why don’t you take a morning off?” “It’s just not in my nature,” he replies. “Buy you knew that when we were married.”
They nod in understanding of each other and continue their stroll.
In Manilla, fingernails touch at the outskirts of two lover’s hands that form a telescope for us to see ahead with. The movement that takes place just below the skin – heightening the majestic moment of touch, is going to serve us well. We need the energy to move on. On the side of the road, the pony from above checks her reflection to make sure the hair color is holding up. We are, after all, on stage during this journey.
For the night, we are going to need torches to guide us in the darkness. When you’re looking for ignition, perhaps we might glance to the lower left, where a lone match is enough to set a blaze that washes away the darkness of the night. Guided to destinations only if we’re willing to look in places away from our line of sigh. The plants will provide enough oxygen to get us through.
While we camp on the journey, it important to have enough, just enough, so that the night is filled with a decent meal. From Baton Rouge, a refrigerator door is opened, leaving us enough light to make camp on the side of the road. There is Chicken and Bear, and if we’re careful, it will be enough. Enough because the next time our stomachs ache, we will remember the light and knock softly on the next door.
Over in Northern Cali, a reflection on the present state of things in Africa, where it is becoming clearer that the continent is no longer going to stand down and be a land ruled by colonial powers. At this moment, the people on the News are being careful not to play the wrong hand, but it’s what’s not being said that is perhaps the most disturbing. Perhaps Chicken and Bear should have been handed out long before this.
This tim of day is the clearing time – anywhere in the world, this is your block. The place where your children can draw chalk games on the sidewalk and your grandparents can sit on chair and talk about how things used to be but will never be again. That’s right – because it’s now. Create the stories for yourself. Walk with us. It’s happening anyway.
So we turn down the road a little, down the coast, where teachers are hard at work going over papers of those who want to lead us next – but they are far from that objective. Now, their thoughts are strung together and put out for the world to explore and understand. The pen on top has made comments and love to the papers – now, exhausted from a Sunday of Love making through corrections, there is a moment of reflection. The light divides the table, allowing the coffee to stay warm.
Thousands of miles away, the sky in India picks up the steam out of the coffee cup and asks our travelers to keep walking, but before they do, to lay down in a field of grass if one can be found and stare into the clouds so that they may realize, the travelers not the clouds, but so they can realize that we’re all rotating and looking at the same map. Destinations may be unimportant after all.
Of course, as Mr. Tolkin said in his first book, life is not all Pony Rides and fun hats. There is work to be done and fights that take place that are not being talked about on the news. The Unions in the United States have been so infiltrated and marginalized that we forget that without them, 9 year old children would still be working 12 hour days so 50 people could rule over the rest of us.
Think of this as the record scratch.
After the meetings, just up the road in Chicago, a meal to get you through to the next meeting is necessary. Kitchen tables all over the mid west are being sat around now because our travelers are being welcomed in to feast on what’s under the lid. It is, of course, still winter so we need to make sure what’s inside of us is enough to keep us moving through the outside. We are elements against the elements. Chicago – you are always home to the heart of moments. We know this. We thank you. We’re moving through now.
We are taken by the hand and walked down the streets in Mexico City, where the abundance of sun makes us shake off the snow from our shoes and remove our winter coats. We are, after all, on a globe. It is worrisome though that the Kings that now control land down there are selling food that might be eroding from within. No fear though – because our travelers know that while governments focus on the wires above, our path might be through the underground. Unseen.
What will we fight with if confronted by those who wish to stop our travels? These two have decided not on making weapons, but object that people may stop and marvel at. Observing beauty may be a way – they think. But we concentrate here on the glass that’s being form. It’s a character now. From raw material into object she, the unshaped glass stands up:
“I’m amazing to watch being made. Look at me before I rest on your table. It is not the final product, but my process. In my performance of birth, you can see my legend. Which if you emulate, could be yours.”
Pure. Love. Is. Essential. For. Any. Length. Of. Time. To. Have. Any. Meaning. Without. It. The. Result. Is. Just. A. Number.
Finally, it’s what we’ve been looking for. Those who have lived around here since they emerged from wombs find it as comfortable as socks from the laundry, but for us who have not seen, it’s the independence – the warmth of that spot where you feel relaxed from the blasting commercials, you must return. When you come to Michigan and want to eat at Coney Joes, tell them your story. Our story. They are a part of it to. Just taste and you’ll know.
Blurred images of youth. We reflect on that moment when playtime transcended your parents call to have you back home. It was your world – created by fantasy. Thing is, it was real if you wanted to make it so. Where did the car take you? This one here has picked us all up and is driving us for Sunday Ride courtesy of your imagination.
Out the window in North Carolina, a woman sees the amazing site of hundred so people from all over the world piled in the imagination of a child rolling down the highway. It’s best to put this down and out so that more can join in. More are, indeed, joining in. It’s because of you that they are. You, You who are reading this right now.
At one point, it was all new. Wanted. Treasured. Taken home and found a place for. It was the most important thing in the world and now they are just items leveling off in their order of importance. You are all focusing on the boxes, wondering what might be inside. Perhaps it will help us on the journey, but what you may not be looking at is the light coming in from the window. You are not looking because you don’t yet realize that it is you.
There is a reflection across the ocean but it’s a cooling gray of an old city that calls for us to sit on its rooftops and gaze out. How long as it been since you’ve done that? Now, all of us, come on – you can climb up if you like, can sit and kick your feet freely. Noting like the perspective from a rooftop to properly look out over the world.
Underneath the roof top, and I’m talking across the Atlantic under this roof top, we need more sustenance to keep going. We’ve had our reflection, and now it’s time that we continue gathering people for the Road. Just out of site, Jack Kerouac is watching with amazement at the power of what book can do when it comes to moving generations. Each of these paths have been traveled before, but that doesn’t mean it’s not new.
Then we pause. Black and white photographs do that to you. The importance of certain passages are highlighted because they mean that much. Somehow, there is that connection felt through the written word. The intimacy of it all because the voices are ones we create from words which were from nothing. Now we’re moving. We’re reading each other.
Remember me from before? That glass made in the UK – I’ve traveled to Ontario and am once again against the fire, but now I serve my purpose. Protector. To my right, a few of my cousins are a little more vain than I – standing pretty to be observed. For me, I understand my role in all of this. Important to me and then, because of my realization, it’s so for the rest. My family. Those who are reading are my family. You’ve been shaped as well because you understood the heat.
I’ve come back for more of this story. Last week, when I woke, I was asked to tell my side of things. Now, see – all of you are just walking by – driving by – sitting by – cooking by – living by and I enjoy the parade. I know my part as well.
Down South, despite the weather outside, the musicians know their time has come to keep up the dance. We need to dance and experience ourselves through the vibrations of the machines held by skin. You remember the fingertip touches from Manilla, yes? We heard that, and decided to play this for the lovers out there. You are our muse – can you find yours? Imagine that it exists.
And to show what we mean – it is not the man being photographed here that shows the love, but the person’s hand and eye from behind the camera that shows the details in devouring what we enjoy watching. Again, the object is irrelevant – It is the process in which we get to that object, how our vision reflects to the world that promotes the global vision. The crew is enjoying the journey.
Fear not what appears to be a hazard. Remember the car you came in from the child’s mind. Drive that trough and know that as your tires turn, snowmen are being created at such a rate that those still inside their windows only looking out, will have to join us and make their own. Have you read Wallace Steven’s The Snowman? Please do when you are finished with this story.
The facts are being worked out in the minds of those who can understand the computations. It is at a furious pace over in Portugal, but, you see, it is this awareness that creates the maps. For you see, we have come to that part of the journey when the course we’ve made our way through needs to be charted for others. They want to walk in their stories. They want to be part of what we have created in such a short period of time. You know we have, all of us, only been here for such a short period of time.
The image created is one we’ve all had a part of shaping. It is us. However you want to see yourself might be best done in the reflection of the iris of the person standing next to you. Or laying next to you. Or riding on the bus seat next to you. We have come to the end of this journey with each other’s souls interlocked in the possibilities of what we can create when we let go of what we thought to be real.
You have created this.