To my friends who work with wheels, hoops, and rings, be sure these things don't mean slavery. Instead pray for a story and a script, to act or live by. Pray for understanding, not the scoop. When the breeze comes it will lift you aloft, unless you still live chained.
Ah . . . the imagination, . . . works tirelessly . . .
At day's end the wheel stops. Every wheel must stop. A car stop, of a train, the wheels of state pause. Rings come off, are lost. The hoop falls to the ground when the hooper, limber though she may be, ceases to dance.
The imagination toils on without effort. And so, our dreams are a mightier wheel than any industry, politics, or state. Fuel for the imagination is unlimited. It burns forever.
And so on this note, I some friends who are toiling to keep their wheels in motion, this cautionary word: Walk away. Don't toil. Don't bother. Give it a rest. Go to your place of dreams and imagine. Set in motion a great river, a great sky, and an energy of being. It will fly, when you sleep.
