“I have a dream…
I need your help
on a movement
that is in my head
…can we do lunch soon?”
I received THAT message
this morning.
I love it
when friends
name,
and claim,
their dreams,
or even movements.
jja jaja ja
I’ll have my people
call his people,
and we’ll do lunch.
I’ve had an ongoing dream
throughout my life,
which is always
in the environment
in which I’m living.
I remember
when I was 4 or 5,
in TANama City, Florida
living in that
Fabulous Florida House.
I’d wake up often,
flying around the ceiling
of the fancy living room
that we weren’t allowed
to actually walk into.
Not that
we three boys
could have gotten
anything dirty;
with the heavy
plastic upholstering
protecting Mom’s TREASURES
from any human contact.
We were prepared
to live in THAT house,
but to me,
it was a future movie set
that we weren’t allowed on.
Just last week,
while flying around the ceiling
of Sister Louisa’s Art Gallery,
I knocked over
THAT plastic nun
sitting on top
of the exposed
heating duct.
Religious Figures,
Political Leaders,
World Role Models,
and those with
Innate Greatness
have always fascinated me.
They don’t give a shit.
They just DO IT.
We’re raised in the South
to fucking care about
not hurting the feelings
of everyone around us,
and avoid doing anything
that will offend THEM
if we up,
and fly.
I think THAT is missing the mark.
THAT is sin.
Jesus had a vision
and he walked towards it
at all cost.
He picked up his cross,
carried the damn thing
on his shoulders,
which with the splinters
they had back then,
I’m sure,
you know had to hurt.
He walked like from here
to probably Acworth,
people throwing rocks at him,
and all,
and it was just understood
that it was his time
to do what he knew
he had to do.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
repeatedly verbalized
his understanding
that his leadership
of the civil rights movement,
would probably cost him his life.
It did.
I’m a coward.
I know I can fly,
but for some reason
I stay grounded.
I am tortured
with caring too much.
I try to turn a blind eye
and ignore those around me,
but then my stomach
gets to hurting
when the guilt
solidifies
within my gut.
My friend and I
are going to get together
and talk about dreams,
and movements.
My dream
is that I leave
that lunch,
caring just a little bit less,
and flying
just a little bit more.
