In between the keys, before the first note, we wait. The silence that exists between the space is our meditation. Our starting point this week. Everyone gathers and defies physics so that we may understand that, stacked next to each other, we can share movement. It is the only way this orchestra is going to create music. Can you feel each other?
Of course, leaving physics out of the thought process causes some decent. The mathematicians among us stand up and expose that fact that what we are doing is impossible – that the space we want to occupy does not exist. If we believe them, were going to have to move. However, in doing so, we press the keys and the music begins. Amazing how the start of magnificence is unintended.
Stretching at the note, we are shown that by moving from our space between the keys, we might take flight. New forms over what we thought was the only path possible. Next to the one with wings, on the right, the patch of grass is not jealous.
“I also exist beneath what you see – regardless of where you fly, I can see more.”
A farmer upstate sketches what she’s going to plant this year, which is then put inside the skin / soil. Same number of letters and just a changing of matter to make it possible. No worries, we have physicists who can explain how it’s possible to you. If you still need that. If you are still looking for definitions.
Riding off of one wave across the Atlantic, we can see the possibilities of growth. Of course, those of us who are human among us, feel the need to tag and define the miracle of growth, but that’s just fine. There are youngsters who need to understand what’s happening. We must account for everyone’s understandings.
“So we’re not going to learn from anything other than play today, how’s that sound?”
“You mean the words? How do they sound coming from your mouth?
“I didn’t mean that – but since you felt it, we’ll have that be real.”
“Playing with you is real.”
Over in Iowa, another youngster who we need to help remind us of reality, has seen what’s happening in the UK and done some planting of his own. Now – see, from the one tattoo, from the sharing of soil, there is more to eat so that those who might not have access to our story, can have the strength to walk through the world. Populating soil.
If you look with the eyes of those who color for a living, not for money, but for a living, you can see what might alive on the outside of your cup. Try not to focus on the contents, but on the container. You, yourself, are a container.
Inside a cup of coffee, a spoon waits for the warmth of a finger tip to stir and create motion. It’s not so much the liquid inside that creates vibrations. It is, we think at least, the flesh against an object that allows for expansion.
Finally, just before cooling down, a touch allows a look outside the window. We’re all looking outside our windows at this moment – into each other’s windows. The need for curtains or blinds is dropped away. There is no fear of what other will see when they stop to look inside. We’re all invited in. How rare.
Two families are merged here: Leaves and Humans, all posing so that you may know what tree to rest under when the sun – if the sun ever really decides to come, causes the need for shade. We think of Shel Silverstein here and wonder if he saw a moment like this when he created his story that still, to this day, sits inside our bellies, just below the surface so that a rub can recall the feeling.
Amazing how the world’s windows remain unobstructed for us to see in. However, amazing enough, it is the object that have been stored and are only brought out for specific holidays, that are now able to see beyond the boxes they have been put in. Each car that drives by is a world for the decorations hanging in the window. How lucky we are that we’re around all year long.
“Do you know where I’m going I’m going to the beach yes I am I am to the beach I’m going – been waiting all week and now I’m going! Reflect what you see in my face to others who look at you this week. It’s the only way to continue with the symphony. You do remember that we are in the middle of a song, yes?’
“Ah, a Sunday morning meal fee of that guy. Love when he goes to the beach – for me, it’s the silence. If you’ll excuse me, I must finish and catch the ray of sun that is laying perfectly for me to nap inside of. Feel free to join if that’s your desire.”
Of course, each movement of music must have it’s own weight. The children who’ve been watching through windows covered in sun might want to come out here to Nebraska, where we’ve still got snowmen to be created. Can you show us again that what appears to be ready to melt and left on the ground, can be molded into images. Nothing is static.
In Scotland, because the windows to the world is open, a young writer sits by hers and is able to see across distance and write about her view. Years later, others will see what her research has brought the world. Documentation of exposure.
Back in Iowa, the younger brother of the first artist, hears the echoes of the keys being pounded, and decides to offer up art to go with the words. All of you have done the same, which means, in your hearts, you haven’t lost that childhood magic. Don’t think for a moment that it’s gone.
However, the piece of childhood can fall away when you first look over in the passenger seat and see that hint of leg disappearing into a boot. Dressed up for a Sunday Date, off to a meadow where life is less complicated that we’ve been told it is. All of the fabrics are working here – even the dots on the car seat create the background.
Out the front seat, the window shifts from Manilla to the midwest, we the world is waiting to be explored. It is for you as well. However, have you stopped to think about the two yellow lines and the service they’ve done you. Even they were created and were wet paint at some point – with the possibility to blur before they dried.
Over in North Carolina, we realize that we might be driving to a picnic, so the taste chocolate on the tongue might be enough to brush up against the coolness of the almost spring that is causing us to open those windows. Exposure, again, allows for the senses to open. How unreal. Real.
And of course, as the world beneath us melts, we move to this deck in Brisbane, where we look for someone who knows how to operate the Bar B Q – a feast can start only when everyone involved in our story – and that means the world in total, is invited to dine at the table. There is room – remember, we’ve started between the keys of a piano and come to this.
“It’s strange, because people believe that the digital age is the end of books, but for me, see, I know that I can get into the hands of other quickly with out wait. My stories are not patient. Characters rumbling inside are screaming to escape into your minds.”
“True, but when on the deck in Australia, and I have no trouble getting there from Dubai, the weight of paper in your hand, in our hands, allows the words to seep into the skin, just as the fruit did earlier. See what we’ve grown from that?”
“What must literature be so deep and heavy? We are in the middle of a song. No reason just to sit back every now and then and indulge in the guilty pleasures. After all, now that the windows are open, you can see that we might share more than you believed we did!”
Now, see, the garden you’ve planted has started yielding some interesting growth. Must have been those stories from the children in Iowa that made the soil change the chemistry enough to release its true capabilities.
Except for the human, which you’ve no doubt concentrated on first, we can see, clearly, that geometry dominates the world. Look up from your symphony / story – it’s all made of shapes. The physicists are rejoicing – but why? They’ve merely explained what is – It is us who have created what is.
Each of the chimneys of the tops of roofs sit with their mouths open at the magnificent world that is taking place above them. Under this sky, how can you help but stop and just be? Thing is, when’s the last time you stopped from your pace to do the same. After all, the same sky is above you. Allow your eyes to drown once a day.
See now, remember the boot on the car seat? The boy has been thinking all week about driving her to this spot so that he can push her on the swing and create memories that will never flow to the back of either of their minds. Again, the absence of movement creates the possibility for it.
Somewhere beneath all of this, there is grass as well. Unformed. Drinking. Waiting for melt. Patience. Branches about to burst. The anticipate of a season is greater than the season itself. Everything exists in transition. Ourselves included. The symphony needs time to build. To dip. To rest.
And see, if you wait, it happens. Everything is next to you. Everything can be felt and shared if you just stand on that next rock and look over what you thought once to be the horizon. The river below is ready for you to drop you boat in and have an adventure. Do you dare take the chance and explore the unknown?
If you did decide to jump in the river, if you felt you had the imagination to create your boat, you can see now that your fears meant little. You can move. Drift. Change direction. Explore. The edges of these banks have all been sat on and saw their feet dangled off of. The coolness on the bottom soothes.
Now then, look where’s you’ve ended up. Others who have dipped their rowboats into the water have made it to the concert just before it started. You though, have been involved in the symphony. Did you realize that the tune you were created helped to bring everyone here, yourself included. Don’t worry about how the time and math of it all works. It does. You’re hear. See.
Just outside the concert hall, a boy and his father sit by the river that we just sailed down to get here. Each movement breathes the sound of a viola. Each leaf above them another key in the piano we still exist in.
“How did we get here dad?”
“It just matter that we are here.”
It is, of course, the world that dictates when it happens. We are, after all, here to capture pieces of the sun so that we may echo each story.