This week is a tough one for fiction. The earth has show us the reality of reality. News delivered by the mouths of our friends tells us that our brothers and sisters are hurting – thing is, there is so much of this everywhere. Each day it exists. We all exist together but because of distance, we think it’s not happening to us. The orange wrapping on the news is the curtain. Please don’t leave you seats. It is this show that might let you finally understand what takes place between the commercials.
Before anything takes place, there is a definition of the object. It comes when your hands touch and mold – releasing matter into form. These our visions. Gods. Religion. Understanding. What we put into this world is important. These are your marks. Make sure that you leave behind something magnificent.
It is happening right now – hard to put into fiction. Reality fights the story this time. When you walked through the aisles of your market this week, were you appreciating every step? Everything available to you? These shelves now don’t carry the weight they once did. Supplies taken and stored for what we hope won’t be. In your stores, what are the boxes of food telling you. Can you hear their whispers?
Of course though, there is hope. We pray in our own ways – one string on a guitar is warmed by the sun of spring, shaking of the winter in hopes that the melody it’s capable of can be heard beyond the walls of worship. We should all be shaking off that coldness. We are needed. What have you learned from these stories over the past month? Is your connection real?
And then, like that, the moment comes when reality might cease for a moment and the carriers of our story are truly hear. Branches gather together to give rest to our traveler who has wisdom for the rest of us – if only, if only we would look up and try to understand communication beyond words.
We need to get clean, but we can’t fit inside of the machines capable of doing so. There is a limit to our resources, and we must conserve. Jumping into the machines, we exist inside, maybe, one bubble so that we can recognize how fragile it all is. Cycles.
Our communication center for the Sunday Morning Story shifts so that the doubters cannot find us. We use all means of transmissions to keep everything as it is. To make sure that the world hears each word – so that now, in times when it needs you the most, you cannot turn away.
“I’m still hot,” said the coffee,” Do you think you can find a way out of the cup for me.”
“Let me see what I can find,” answered the juice, “I’m luck enough to be surrounded by glass.
One of our Sunday Morning Story folks has created a cake to honor the device through which we all found each other. How magnificent. Now, what are you going to do with your tool that allows you to communicate with the world. The you – here a bird, is going to fight reality and become fiction. Do you believe it can happen. Here, watch, I will show you your power of belief.
One step away from the change – you can understand what control you have. The plastic is peeling back and then, with the unveiling, you might realize what you’ve done. What your imagination is capable of.
Onto a lawn from the confines of sugar, they now walk. Soon to fly. Soon to be held by those branches we spoke about. The energy is growing with your belief, but it must be backed by action. Don’t ask how – just move forward with it.
Each moment is marked by what you have done. It’s this time, at some point, everywhere in the world. Many places have already moved into the future and the present you look at is really the history of another moment. Don’t be bound by the numbers. Exist beyond confines.
Amazing how something with such beauty in one spot has cousins with so much anger in the next. Please, if you are near the oceans, talk to the water – it is indeed alive. Ask it to spare the next village and evaporate, to some extent, into our lungs so that we can breath through the times that challenge us.
It was all once News – all important enough to be put down and edited – careful so that you would be able to understand and process. There now must be a filter as to what can be taken seriously and what can be used to line the cages for the birds that you have captured. It is true – that miracle you saw before now might be in someone’s living room.
“Did you see the conversation between the coffee and the juice,” the pink on said. “We might learn from that.”
“I understand the juice more,” the clear polish answered. “Still, the coffee needs to be heard. Can we go back and read that again? Everything might exist between the words.”
So back we go – over the notebooks where you have jotted down so many ideas and things to remember. Only, if you don’t go back and see what you’ve written down, it’s useless. You have the answers. We know you do. They are documented. You knew when writing what was the truth. Go back to your basics.
The entire pot would be nothing without the ingredients.
“I’ll tell you this – I’m glad I’m not in that pot. Many places in the world they try to cook you and digest your meat if you are a creature of unusual looks and fabric.”
It is just so fragile that we forget until there is nothing left to do than to remember. Each snapshot such a perfect moment of beauty. The time we have here with each other is the object we should cherish most, but often, more often than we like to believe, it is ignored. Today, stop and feel it.
When one of us is off, the music we make as a collection does carry over the barriers like it should. We must all be in tune or, at the very least, be working to make it all in tune. What many don’t realize is that it is the tuning that make the music of our lives, not the finished song.
However, there is, always, spring. Birth. Life. Pollination. Belief that in the floods and damage, the ability to birth still exists. If you inhale that which grows around you, it may in fact, grow inside of you.
This is the message left for us on the mirror so that we can see it on our faces each day. When was the last time to you repeated it to a stranger? With these pictures you’re sending it, you are. You are.
The fight continues in the streets of your town, because each street, each house, each traffic light is connected if you decide to take the journey. We know you can. It’s possible.
Still, we return to fiction because it is essential in our understanding. It’s how we process information and, hopefully, are inspired to act. To be part of something significant. That moment exists when your eyelid opens and the shade to the world is pulled up.
So take those first stories you heard as a child and go around the world retelling them to those who might not have the books on their shelves. Explain to them that the shelf in your home extends to them. The life you have created is a reflection of each foot sticking out from behind the story books we cherished and hold, tucked away, in the existence of memory.