There are places in the world where meetings take place to discuss the next steps in our quiet revolution against being pompous. Some, perhaps those who have sat in this garden waiting for the winter to end, believe that we are about to take place in some sort of new evolution. A mutation to change us yet again. Most, of course, have no idea that this is taking place. We do. We are documenting the changes.
The moments just after the revolution are reminders that we may, in fact, be in the middle of ACT 1.
Moving a little out west, one of our best historians knows that they key to this documentation is to avoid, when possible, the digital world. There are still some moments and thoughts that must be captured so they can be locked in some steamer trunk that can be buried in the hull of ship heading across the Atlantic. These fog soaked voyages might allow us time to think about why were are evolving like this. On the page of the notebook. there is life in a completed figured. Creation fights those who might stop us.
So after that sail across the Atlantic, what started on paper how now become real. It’s no that difficult to manage. Just the inception of original thought is all. We must continue to have these and not copy from presets that have been put out there. We must push forward from within and put it all down. Plans. Documents. Renderings. Reality. They are the pieces that live inside our chest and attempt to rest on Sunday morning before pushing through the bones and waking us on Monday. This creation about that jumped from the drawing pads of New Mexico to the warm beds of the United Kingdom is a lighthouse.
Of course, there will be some who challenge what we think. They may believe we are not evolving at all. That our revolution is only in our minds. We’re silly. Irrational. Lefties. Fantastics. They stand up in our meetings and cast doubt inside of you and then you wonder if you’ve been given some wrong information. You want to believe what the oceans of others is whispering in your ear. Beware of that. Those soft whispers are only the enticement.
A ticket to ride gives off the hope. You are going with someone to the airport out in Chicago, providing some company before their big trip. You see the airlines and terminals and think about where you’d like to go. The places you haven’t visited. The people who exist in the story you are a part of each week. Your life is able, for that moment at least, to have the possibility of just peeling away a bit. The fabrics you believe to be real seem now like those pencil sketches we started with. The possibility for departure exists because you see it, but, really, it’s always there. All of it is always there.
See, what we have done is created a network of walking equipment that can take you towards the life you truly want to live. These shoes here in the North East of America, have been designed so that when you slip them on, you walk in the direction your heart tells you too, and not inside the routes outlines by signed or computer voices made to sound human in your GPS.
Each of these will, of course, find the feet that need them. Guidance. We’re all looking in some way, so it makes that that we, the people of the Sunday Morning Story, create vehicles that tap into our internal organs and grab hold of those neurotransmitters so that we know how to move as we did when we first came onto the planet. Back then, there was no need for anything. It was our need to NEED that created the superfluous.
When most look at the treats brought out after meal, all we can think is to devour. You must think though why they have been made to look as they do? Before you destroy the structure with your utensils next time, think about the possibility that these may be some sort of fortress set before you containing revolutionaries such as yourself. They are trapped inside perceived beauty and are looking at you for a way to set them free. Do not eat their prisons – it is time to figure out the mechanism that keeps them contained.
Here, two of our Evolution Revolutionaries remain locked up in a kiss that has lasted thousands of years, yet most of us just pass by and see it as a statue – a figure on a shelf somewhere that might get a few remarks, but we don’t stop and think about the connection. How these kisses are moments that should be worked on and explored. Interlocking so that we may understand just a bit more.
Of you on a Sunday Morning.
I can’t make the bed.
Our memory still exists in the mold of us.
Not wanting to go back to bed, they lovers move to get a cup of coffee in the cafe up in Canada that sends trams for those who believe in the possibility for such travel on a Sunday Morning. We must believe in this. Jump in. This machine has been made by others who believed as you do. Who wanted to understand not just the reflection in the materials, but the conversations that take place around the tables by those who have worn the special shoes and arrived for the same reasons you have.
And now we slip those shoes on – they fit well, can you understand? Can you feel the space created by those who have worn before you? Passed down. Generations. Time. Everything is used – everything that was once needed is still needed. The next time, when the snow falls, and you shiver, there will be warmth. For now, the bridges stand strong so that you may look out over the water and understand your reflection in the ripples of a skipped stone.
Ah, here is another that has been drawn and about to come to live. We have production artists going at all times of the night so that you know, when you arrive at a house that is involved with this revolution, there will not be a judgement of you, but an understanding. We have a logo for our efforts, created not by direction, but from what exists inside of us.
We are the fog that exists to make you squint to understand the universal images. How many have kissed under the metal of this tower? Who has marched underneath? How many speeches have been given so that a snapshot could expand on the magnificence of the moment? Yet, when we see it, we think of only Paris.
The fan in the left hand corner is one of our agents, set to cool down the moment when you can’t see through the heat. The dresses above are waiting to be worn. All of it is alive because you believe it to be your skin. You have this power, so imagine the rest of what you can do.
The machines you thought would take you through your world are useless in many moments of the winter that refuses to let us go, so it might be best to look inside your closet and see what pieces of skin can take you down the roads you were meant to walk on. You’ll know it’s your path only when you reflect on the journey.
“You can study my natural structure and perhaps discover a better what to insulate yourself from the weather above, but I prefer sticking my head out and realizing that the group around me, my fellow revolutionaries, are my true protection.’
Of course, it always helps when you have a little something extra in your morning cup of coffee. It makes, at times, the roads you walk down a bit easier to navigate. Those sways are part of the journey as well.
We are, after all layers. The ground below moving with machines to carry us, the cargo, to our place on the map. Trees pouring into our veins. Rivers allows us to feel rhythm and motion so that we can dance. The magnificent sky who watches all of us unfold as a daily play – but these elements are all actors in the series as well. Make sure you say your lines to them so they can participate. Essential.
Of course, some believe that treasures exists inside of the machines. We sit in front of them on vacations after sitting in front of them at work, and expect different results. Pull the level and win the prize. We realize, of course, that the prize exists in the sunrise above, but those moment come quickly and we are left searching for that same feeling. Nothing wrong with the search. However, next time, perhaps a reflection on the hands you are touching that have pulled the level before. It might make for an interesting addition to the evolution – it is, after all, the sharing of skin.
The winnings from Louisiana allow us to purchase gifts for the next house that embraces us. Inside the wrapping paper are the secrets of our story. You know them, because you have taken time to join in. To jump inside the bodies of those you would otherwise have passed by or changed the channel on. Now, you are part of it. You are the gift.
What? You were expecting glass building and amazing structures? There is a need to play games everywhere in the world. You picked the right present to give. Why? Because you are locked in with their stories.
Enough of the games, we have much of the journey to go. Through caverns created by a season that refuses to let us go. At the end of this tunnel of snow, there is a place to rest that has been told. They sent us letters. The ocean sent us word that it was waiting for us to make it through the obstacles so often in our path. Each step from the countries involved helps us find our way.
We’ve made to to one of the edges. How amazing. Take of what you’ve been wearing to protect yourself and jump in. Bathe. All of us, each member, now disrobes and jumps over the handrails and into the ocean, floating whatever way we know how and drinking in the rays that are falling from above. The clothes dry on the dock and we are lost with covers of clouds that reflect the bedding from Philly not too long ago. I hope you believed it would happen.
When you get out of the water, a few children over in New York have created this treat of multi-colored pudding snacks without the restrictions of a recipe. The form and taste exist purely in the power of their creation. No rules on how to eat it either, just no that the salt water you were swimming in requires some balance. Enjoy.
A boat is waiting to take you to Mexico city to watch a football game being played. What you might not notice is what’s taking place beneath the feet of the players. The millions of blades of grass are dancing fanatically in their own celebrations and don’t even realize what’s happening above them, much the same way we don’t realize what’s happening below.
Here are the stairs to connect the two worlds – the one you know exists and the one you have a feeling that it does but your age precludes you from examining it. It’s okay, we understand that life is filled with much time spent on what you must do. However, in your next moment for yourself, take a walk either way and explore what really exists. Of course, these are always there because the person behind the camera of our Sunday Morning Story has made it so. You have all done that.
The green umbrella at the bottom is resting from a long week of shielding visitors from the sun. It’s amazing that we were so glad to see it, the sun, after our journey through the ice, yet when others are used to it, we create materials to block its strength. How fantastic that we experience the elements of the world in such a different way.
Incredible that so many are now wearing the shoes of the revolution. Waiting by the door to take you through the world and expose you. Shutter lenses around the globe are echoing your footsteps. Can you feel the warmth of the feet that have been there before? We are stacked up and waiting. Plenty of materials to be had, but your understanding to look at what makes them go, actually gives them life.
If not put into a shape you’d recognize, much like the tower in Paris, you would have walked past this piece of string. You would have walked past a pile of metal. Thing is, we create the shapes inside of us first. These images exists. We know them all because we are part of them all. Each element is us. The earth. Connection. Solidarity. Extended feel and thought. Would you dare to lay down next to this image and drink in the sun that is drying the rocks?
This Sunday morning traveler laid down on the rocks and was transported onto the train, still existing inside the sun that blasts through the window and illuminates this piece of the world. We feel the rocking back and forth on the tracks and grab hold of her hand. She, our guide, wants to show you something. You must be relaxed to see so that you can feel it. Magnificent.
At the end of this journey, we see, that despite all that exists for us, all that is on our plates and inside of our living rooms, it can just as quickly be taken away. Here, one of the true revolutionaries is depriving himself of nearly everything you have enjoyed on your sunday so his brothers and sisters can earn a decent enough wage to have what you have, for his family. These men and woman have existed for centuries, but they are not put on the movie screens.
It is, quite simply, why this story exists.