i formed a crystal ball in the space between my palms and I stared deeply into the the whirling center of the universe within.
Try it. Hang out a shingle; call the curious and the future impaired to gaze.
I see: The forecast for today is for heart contractions and vicarious, visceral squeezings for the incorrect thoughts of man. Later this week, a new front of optimism is expected as a result of the sun peeking through the clouds today.
You will venture from your blankets and caves and learn to trust again. You will see whole groups of people and activities disappear entirely from your life. You will remember every every thing, but often there will be no need for such memories. You will create new ways of being, new knowing, new ways of talking, colors never seen in this realm before. You will create a world that sits beside the old one. Don’t fear for you can still see the other one and wave hello goodbye hello goodbye, but chances are, the only ones who will see will be the ones running to catch your train. They will appreciate the encouragement, and share their brown-paper lunch along the way. Food will be the first breaking through of our synesthesia; even from that paper bag, the crisp will run into the red running into the sun and rain contained within. You can live the life of the fruit you have grown through a bite. I kid you not.
The intensity of competition becomes foreign, the tongue of a troubled land. The ego daggers look like flying sporks. The race to make it big will be a tale of a culture who went off the tracks, but upon whom we gaze tenderly. We will not abandon the two-year old melting down at the checkout line; we will stand by with love, compassion, and distance. We will gaze out the store’s window at the pattern of the birds circling over the parking lot. We sense a change in the weather before the winds begin to turn along with those birds. We hear the balloons being released into the sky a 1,000 miles away. We hear the helium heads’ thoughts of blue blue blue.
We begin to sense when gatherings are gathering without flyers or emails. We choose the party we will run into on our walk out into no where. We give and receive on a currency of flow, without question. Our lie detectors fall out while we gather acorns for the squirrels we meet – we built teepees for the fairies. They weave us spiderweb shawls and leave them on our doorsteps. Our job title changes so much that we stop printing up business cards and instead we shape shift to fit our mood. You might wake up a rain cloud escaping out the sliding glass doors just in time before leaving a puddle inside. The heart begins to radiate a new language without slow words and whole decades are exchanged with a handshake.
What winds do you sense? Tell me what they smell like. Send your thoughts in a canteen and I shall take a swig.
Life as Improv 