Amazing that each one of us walking around – from those you wish you could crawl away with to those who offend you to those who you pass by without even a though, all came from the womb of a woman who walked this earth for 9 months inside of her. Regardless of what success occurs outside of those moments, there is nothing that will fill. Recognize.
These moments are learned and passed on. We all watch here. Cradled. Understood. Felt deep beyond what text books lay out as law. This is our time – unfolding. Understood.
Pollen imitates what we have accomplished, though perhaps it is the other way around. We are all watching and learning from imitations. The mimicking of movement. The trees here – we’ve yet to take this road in our journey, is offering shade to the mothers around the world. We offer up, as well, a spot to sit an reflect on the mothers who have left. We are still with you. Here.
Over in Wisconsin, word has gotten out of what the palm trees are doing thousands of miles away. The pollen must have told them. Amazing how strong the wind can be when it’s the season to create life. We won’t be shy over here about the ability of a seed. Are you thinking about such things in the office today? Talk to you co-workers about the wind and see if they are willing to travel.
In Brisbane, the humans have decided to aid the wind and save their breath in balloons for a time when those in baby strollers are going to need something clean to inhale.
You might think about such things as saving you air in a balloon for the future the next time you reach for the hose. Don’t feel as if you’re being silly. You’re meant to feel like that. Here, inside this story, is how we truly exist. Much of the roads we’re on away from here are the fiction. Bring that up as well when you speak today. Notice the amount of agreement in the eyes of those you’re speaking with.
There are, of course, alternatives. Time spent waiting for these to dry might help you understand how long the bush below took to grow. How many times the sun has come down on this very spot. How, 156 years ago, a man made love to a woman about to become his wife. They too added pollen. She was not made any breakfast in bed.
Time is not realized here – so the toast is left not far away, and, on the wind, the woman from Leicester travels and picks up the most perfectly buttered piece of toast in the entire world. Looking over it, of course, are the followers, which have been there throughout our definitions of matter.
Over in New Jersey, two lazy day sandals watch as the evening plans are laid out for the night.
“We wish we could go out like you. The thing you must see. Look how well taken care of the bottom of you is!”
“I wish I could stay around with you and exist in the sunlight. There’s too much pressure on me.”
Ready to come off the paper and follow the heels out for the evening, there is something stopping her. Creations through drawings have a different impact than in photography. How can this reflect against the whiteness of the pages?
Now, see there, there are wishing for you little panther. Notice the progression from the pages – cards from those who lived those 9 months and believe that this day is the one to pause and thank her for walking those first steps. Thing is, mothers are being honored each day. Again, flowers are everywhere. For those who have been part of our Sundaymoringstory from the start, we are finally breaking through the ice. Our eyes notice the birth. Notice.
Long days of work require love to be sprinkled everywhere it’s possible. Despite being covered up, those who need the coverage rely on the warmth being there.
Here, though we’ve seen them in vases throughout the story, they exist, natural. Unaware of the fence around them. Unaware of even themselves. They just are. Each time. As they should be. That’s all. Fantastic.
We are. Intertwined. In our. Fascination. With each other. Closeness. Without the need for entertainment. Our existence is not. Self. Contained.
Santa Clause might start starting to reconsider moving his holiday to a warmer time of year.
“Amazing,” says the wind. “That some plates are so much fuller than others.”
Might want to speak to your co-workers about that as well.
A human came to this spot at one point with their brush and a canvass. The trees reached down and took them away.
“No, just watch. No need to record.”
Amazing here – you are looking, no doubt at the sun. Perhaps even the clouds. What about the street light, who is being shown it’s utter insignificance in the universe.
“Ah, you’re only seeing me now,” says the street light. “Wait until it’s night. I’ll be more relevant than anything on this block.”
Vintage. There was a time when creating items for the sheer utility of their purpose was what we did. How incredible that form is as well. I bow to the street light in South Africa and will forever thank it, and remember it, as the one who taught me how to appreciate a fan.
Don’t think that because you build walls that they are going to do anything to separate species.
Deep inside. We exist. It is known. All shapes revert to the same. We repeat patterns. Fractals. Imitating what we refuse to see but know is there. The world living inside here. The texture on the tip of one of the edges of the petals. Remarkable.
Now the branches that took our brushes from before, realizing that we had given up on trying to capture, allows us to recreate what we’ve seen. There are plenty living in bricks and stone that have never seen what can exist outside of the concrete. We are the messengers. The pollen. Life is the wind.
From beyond the horizon, we sit on shores and think of travel, instead of the grains of sands falling between our toes. So much taking place beyond our sight – so much happening far away. We must look at the matter before we construct. The salt can help tighten our scope.
And now, here, the mother is going to show you. You can build what is beautiful and what attracts spectators to gather and photograph. We are all here. Come. Gather. It’s for you. You’ve build it with your combination of brushes, and wind, and pollen an shoes. It’s okay to arrive. The structures are amazing. We know. They are your reflection. What we want you to understand is how fragile it is.
Regardless of what you do to the materials that the earth gives you to live on throughout our time here – and we think we know now that it is a shared time…
While it exists on the news for you, it stays in reality for those affected. Is Alabama in your hearts as you bite into that buttered toast? There was once a hand inside this glove reaching for fly balls – perhaps playing catch with his mother who was stepping in for his father, who had to take an extra shift, to pay for the house, that is not longer there.
Be sure it is rebuilt.