Here. Let me offer you some beauty, after months of coolness. I’m going to wear my favorite pair of shoes and walk to the middle of town, because there, there I know, I have a date with one of the first flowers of spring. They’re waiting for me – the petals understanding their role in protecting the the space below from the new sun. Everything is composition – construction of an idea. We dive in. Offerings.
Getting the signal that it’s their turn, in Tokyo, more petals open, not afraid to expose the world to their beauty. They were born for this moment of entry – of complete exposure. Below the branches, a crowd gathers and marvels at how something so fragile can expose itself to the world without questioning consequences. Pollen spreads. It’s infection. We’re waking up, following flowers, despite how silly that may sound. If you regress a bit, and keep in mind that shoes in Mexico City are standing under the same beauty, you’ll be able to open as well.
“While the rest of you are sitting – some of you laying down at the smells all around you, I’m at work. Spreading this possibility from bloom to bloom. It happens so much like this even among the rest of you out there – working. We all spend so much of our lives engaged in our professions, but how many of you have people taking pictures of you while you’re doing what comes natural to you. Are you, in fact, spending your days doing what comes natural to you?”
“Yes, Mr. Bee, or Ms. Bee, I do – I spend my days doing what’s natural to me.”
“While I take this order, any order at this table, which has so many various bodies occupying the space, I keep looking out the window to watch the Bee just across the way, and wonder if I’m spending my moments on this earth doing what I’m supposed to be doing. There is something inside telling me no – but, I keep asking. At home, there is a jar marked ‘trip’ which is filled with my tips so that one day, I’ll be able to spread pollen around the world.”
“I’m here,” cries the airport. “When you’re ready, I hold possibilities. They exist on the board that reads ‘Departures’. However, there are groups waiting for arrivals as well – holding ‘Welcome Home’ signs that smell from fresh paint. It’s all happening.
“Welcome home Pops, It wasn’t the same without you sitting in your chair. I tried to fill your space, but all I could feel was empty. I’m going to remember the taste of these fries for ages. I think that, when I’m older, and I’ve had a bad day of doing what was against my nature, I’ll have a fry and remember the moment you came home.”
“See now – this is how you live when there is an opportunity to do so. Smiles. Each of you reading this now is existing in the moment of happiness created by us, the people who dared to add a layer of skin to what was given to us. We, those who move on the lanes outside of the main road, are not followed, but enjoyed. We wonder what would happen if we were joined.”
“Yes? You found me. Good. Tell everyone is who waiting for the baskets that this year, this year we’ll be asking everyone if they’d like to come with me on my global adventures. I’ve decided to make some visits to those who don’t believe the impossible is possible. It’s very core makes no sense – Impossible. No such thing. Care to have a coat like me? No Charge, only belief.
“Oh! Me! Me! I’d would like to come with you! I just knew someone like you was going to be sitting outside – calling those aboard your train. Or flight. Yes – I saw those pictures from Australia showing us where to go. Are we flying? I don’t mind much at all. Isn’t it amazing how we reflect each other? Some human made thousands of me, but to the little girl who holds me all night, there is only one. Mathematics changes with perception.”
“Please, you see us, here, down in the corner of the window. We have no ability to run. Would you mind, someone out there, taking us from inside our pots and putting us back the ground so that, perhaps, our roots may spread to their full capabilities? I’d like to see if we can melt into a few flowers out there. We hear the seasons have changed.”
“Amazing, because – Well, I provide you access to power. So valuable. When you need me, you turn the house over looking for me. For the right one. For the perfect connection. When I’m not in your immediate satisfaction mindset, I exist, tangled. Why not allow me to extend outwards. I can provide this story energy. Nothing is superfluous.”
“No matter what you humans do to duplicate me, the simplicity of my being is going to determine the complexity of yours.”
“Complexity? All you need to do is stretch and walk out into the garden. Can’t you see the door is open. Each of these cities has opened up for you. Take your steps and move. Don’t over think it.”
“You said it sister!”
“No, here, beneath the fingers. The trumpet. Why do you always look a the person and not the instrument. For the music to be what it should be, there can be no different between the two. We are melting into cohesion. All of us. We are melting into cohesion.”
“Me? In Chicago – yes, I rode the sounds of the trumpet up from New Orleans. The men who took me from the ocean are still barely hanging on to themselves. They were nearly destroyed and taken from their natural place. But now, they must exist by taking us from our natural place in order for everyone around them to eat. It is so difficult to understand what should be.”
“Here we come! Yes! Oh my, it’s been – whew – so long since we’ve seen the air. No putting us back now. You can’t stop what comes up from the underground, but, you see, the beauty of existing in such a place is that we have a chance to develop and really think about what we’re going to accomplish with our bloom. I’m here, in the center bottom, in case you were wondering who’s voice it was.”
“Look at her.” “Did you hear what he was saying?” “I can’t believe what they’re doing!” “I’m pregnant.” “I want to take a trip.” “This cake is amazing.” “Can we stay here forever – I don’t want to go back.” “Why are you always on the phone.” “I love sitting here with you.” “I love you.”
“When are they coming home? I’m going to miss the winter – they played with me all day. Now, they’ll go lay under that yellow ball in the sky. Maybe they’ll toss it to me so I can run it back to them.”
“Now they’re starting to walk between us – guess they were waiting for leaves. It’s been a lonely winter, but we’ve had time to contemplate our growth. It’s important to step back and figure out direction. These squirrels inside of me are rattling nuts. I can still be a home without being chopped down.”
“Noticed that you were looking at that little kid’s plate from Durham. That’s fine. No worries. Here, have a bite. We want you to remember the taste of relaxation and reflection. During the week, there is no time to sit, chew and, of course, digest. The story is about digestion. The story, that’s who is speaking. Always.”
“Here’ climb on me. There are connections to each port. You’ve seen the pictures. The open doors. The story is allowing you in. Have you reached out yet and talked to those who’s fingers are behind the photos? There is nothing stopping you. Find the information. Here, I’ll take you to them – just leave behind what you think you know and jump in.”
“We are ready for our Sunday Date. Shined up, no gas though, and excited about the pace we’re going to set. Perhaps they will hold hands in order to gather enough power to move down the block. Adults will pause and wish they could still fit in our seats, but there is no need to wish. That life has been lived. You, on your movements today, are an extension of that moment. Think – it never stops – only evolves.”
“Soon, 20 thousand are going to be echoing screams in my confines. My hope is that their joy and emanate from my construction and reach out into the streets so that those with their heads down on this day can be lifted.”
“I am here, on those streets you were talking about. My letter to the world – ‘Dear World. Please, if you have any extra, would you bring by some of those flowers I see from each of these glances. We could use the life. Just a smell from the flower would do so much. Thank you.”
‘Dear North Bay, Here you are. Plant these in the backyard and you’ll be fine. Feed them with belief and soon, before you might realize, you’ll have some color in your neighborhood. After all, we’re all neighbors. Yes?”
“Dear North Bay, It’s going to look like this when you’re done. Well, you’re never done. That’s very much the point. Please, feel free to come over to my backyard and experience the smell. It’s magnificent. The women around here use it as perfume.”
“I heard people were out there smelling flowers. Well, it’s about time you humans started understanding the world with senses other than just your eyes. That’s no way to experience life. So many senses. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to figure out how not to dive in and still get my flower. Our flower. Yes.”
“We’ve been inside these bags for some time now – We know, it’s a different way to grow. That’s just fine with us. We wanted you to realize that, if you really want to experience this world, you’ll understand that because their are so many possibilities for life, there are, indeed, so many ways to actually live. We thank you for existing in the way you do. We, ourselves, are enjoying the filter of the sun.”
“Please, feel free to exist inside my filter. Reality changing because you made it so. Each block unfolds so many stories – so many lives melting into each other, so that the songs that seep from the windows are a chorus of us. There’s no need to write it down or record it, just to live it. That is the record. That is the history that lives in the moment. How magnificent to share.
“Of course, see, the pen, here, in a spot that’s not well advertised by well known by those who must know – I must keep going. The writer behind the glass must watch the movements and put them down so that maps can be drawn. However, once used, we realized that the necessity exists in the direction, not the divisions.”
“My life is short but sublime. When handed to a human, the blush on their cheeks matches my being. I feel the reflection – the lifetime of emotions is one moment to remembered beyond the clocks on the wall. Do not weep for the shortness I have been here – It is what I have done with my time that counts, not the amount spent.”
“Good morning everyone. Today is my birthday. My first. Born, part of this #sundaymorningstory. Please, I wish for you to share with me this moment and have you, all, remember that you too, were once me. Are me. Continue to be me. That feeling you have looking at my newness was once put on you – those vibrations are still there. Good morning world, a pleasure to join you.”