What a long strang trip…

  Our journey to the sea has been met with… dance moves uncommon to the flat world in which they breath…styles that collide, grow and own the moment passing by… as well as stories yet told to jealous ones with burning ears and half empty glasses. The olio of warmth, laughter and experience pay the toll, encouraging the expression of elation to not only follow the leader but sway helplessly to the beat.  A hut, simple in nature, houses the roaming home, with grace fitting the twelfth month in which it resides. The call summoned dreamers, innovators, lovers, wishers, believers, surfers, jokesters, shakers, hipsters, groovers, writers, creators, bakers, movers and northerners and southerners alike, to gather… to toast a season, where the only currency accepted rhymes with dove and champions the night. 

We gather. We live. We laugh. We share. We dance. We inspire. We encourage. We unite. 

 The morn does not hold captive the rise of their days, for these beings illuminate a night,  accustomed to easy uncontested victory over tired bodies and apathetic souls. The lot chase seconds held apart with courage fitting the bravest knight and persistence true to only the boldest of vagabonds. The most important meal of the day's honor is recognized past the sun's arrival at midday and with a brooding perfection of comfort, rare to even the south. Beats bounce, rhythms run then return, while songs sung, common to the passing tribes' soul, surrender amidst the movement of love's mighty wake. Riding this specific yet unruly wave, beckons hearts full, to overflow freely, toting tomorrows' style with todays intent. Weather only encourages this group; wool gathered and worn evolves to meet winds unseasonably quiet and sweet. 

We share. We cook. We drink. We merry. We toast. We enjoy. We smile. We unite. 

These gypsy queens bow only to the maker of their breath, as lessons in friendship, the day's delight and dreamy revolutions are taught with grace real enough to hide behind yet uniquely bold to the flow. Free spirits, like these, entice even the darkest of days to forfeit the reigns of chances' outcome, while prevailing in communicating through a dead language… not yet asleep but awake… not heard but felt…not listened to but related with…not established in the now but rooted in memories tipping their steady tongues of instances long since passed. Dynamically bounding in potential, tastes the slice as well as the pie. Apart, character is hosted amongst strangers turned friends, kindling flames of heroines upon braving the glassy status quo. Ability, talent, beauty and depth lie just beneath a stillness rusted by heads down and teachers blind with limits. To be unleashed upon the world, would and is a hope worthy of any poem or picked daisy. To be unleashed upon the world is a prayer from the wise; looking to the half dozen to create anew the world they paint on a fresh daily refrain. These gypsy queens rule the day, flood the night and dance in-between. 

We gather. We live. We laugh. We share. We dance. We inspire. We encourage. We unite

Kings nomadically nurtured strut, side by side with the aforementioned pictures of hope, lending laughter in the face of chaos. Raw soaked emotion yawlps from deep within these leaders of daybreak towards quality understanding and highly coveted experiences. Their tread can be seen challenging the staunch traditions of mindlessness on a path blazed towards narrow's promise of eternity. Teachers, coaches, students of life's honors courses, their theories of God-sized living have proofs written in crayon and added, subtracted and multiplied with skips and jumps. Barbarians pursuing each other rather than the worlds' seemingly complete how to's, are a unruly  crash of content contemplation teamed with hunger for the unseen. Their pleasure includes service, which begs to wage war, and love, learned through intimacy with the wind. These kings bow as well as raise up like trees, shift the focus of mirrors and dream dreams worth pursuing. 

We share. We cook. We drink. We merry. We toast. We enjoy. We smile. We unite.

      Cardboard Emotions. 

       Today. I stood on the side of the road and held a cardboard sign. The sign simply said LOVE. As snow fell and my fingers became numb… smiles, honks and waves began to intercede as the chorus of today's song. Beautiful to experience really. With my bike stationed just behind the median, I raised my hand-made sign high above my head and smiled with my teeth. The font rivaled that of a Microsoft's Times New Roman and the size would most likely be numbered at, well, huge. So there I stood. Smiling. Waving. Holding. And the impact, of what I hoped to be a little ray of sunshine on a dreary wintery day like today, drove by into a future I could not see. Did it brighten a day? Just one? Or maybe ten? Did it paint a smile, where a frown once claimed supremacy? Was it a topic of conversation for those who drove by on their cell phones? Did it do anything? Anything at all?

Well. For me, the sign expressed what I was feeling. For me, the sign put into one word the thoughts that overwhelmed me after a morning filled to the brim with great conversation amongst friends and powerful words from a book. For me, the sign was my way to invite others into the gift that is today. For me, the sign was in a sense the very word it wore.  I think the reason I rode my bike…held my sign…and smiled so big… was because I not only yearn and crave love but have felt loved so much lately that I desire to share!