Spread Open
June 26, 2006
Hear that?
There are secret worlds living out around us. How we forget in our own microcosms that each stranger is living the same sort of dance. Modern. Ballet. Jazz. Punk. Still a dance. Still something primal that we beat out in a simple rhythm that slowly becomes forgotten sound… the thump of our hearts.
Do you look at people? Wonder what stories they would tell?
Why does the old man next door live in a dingy basement suite when he is at the sunset of his years? This is a time for walking towards the sunset; admire the crickets’ song… not fuss with a broken mower in the sun…
What about that Indian woman who smiles shyly at you at the supermarket? Do you wonder why she does not speak English to you, instead of translating through her young son?
Tomorrow, instead of turning away to read the paper, watch people. Really see them. Open your self to that silent music they emit and see what beats you can detect.
Let that tremble the soft grasses of your imagination…. swelling until it makes a golden sea of movement.
There are infinite songs to be heard.
G.
Do you look at people? Wonder what stories they would tell?
Why does the old man next door live in a dingy basement suite when he is at the sunset of his years? This is a time for walking towards the sunset; admire the crickets’ song… not fuss with a broken mower in the sun…
What about that Indian woman who smiles shyly at you at the supermarket? Do you wonder why she does not speak English to you, instead of translating through her young son?
Tomorrow, instead of turning away to read the paper, watch people. Really see them. Open your self to that silent music they emit and see what beats you can detect.
Let that tremble the soft grasses of your imagination…. swelling until it makes a golden sea of movement.
There are infinite songs to be heard.
G.
June 17, 2006
June 11, 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)