Truly Powerful People (347)

347.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

I am sitting in a café and have created an unintentional spectacle. My café table is covered with index cards and on each card written in bold black marker is a phrase like Default Story, Label Libel, Naming, Left Hand Path, Locate Yourself. I’ve been at it for some time now and the floor around my table is covered, too. I’ve unconsciously created a concept nest, an index card snowstorm and I am the diligent bird scribbling at its center.

I stop adding to the nest when I realize people are staring at me. Standing at the edge of my nest are three tiny people, children with faces pink from exhilaration and cold weather. The smallest of the pack still wears a stocking cap cocked rakishly to one side. The others tout hair explosions from hats recently removed. I’m not sure how they came to my nest but they are captivated by my index card snowstorm. Beyond the children, the stare-layer is populated by parents; they are captivated by the sudden stillness of their children. Or, they fear that I am dangerous and are trying to determine whether they need to grab their children and run. Or both. Then there is everyone else staring because they are aware that others in the café are staring. Even the baristas are staring.

I contemplate roaring like a lion or falling off my chair like I’ve just been shot but I don’t want to scare the kids. Instead I say hello and ask them if they want some index cards. In truth, I’m asking the parents and I see them visibly relax. They smile and I smile. Now it is a game. The parents encourage their munchkins as if my index cards are magic or diamonds or the coolest thing on the planet: candy. I pretend that I am stuck in my nest and reach to give them some cards. They must reach into the nest to take them and this makes them squeal with delight. The one with the rakish hat steps boldly onto my nest and her parents begin to screech in horror but I reassure them that munchkin footprints are greatly valued in my world. Like a soccer team that just scored the winning goal the children accept the index cards and in high celebration race back to the safety of their parents. Crayons spill from purses and the crew begins creating a nest of their own.

The spell is broken. The café lapses back into chatter, latte steam, the clatter of dishes, and markers and crayons busy inventing new worlds.

2 Responses

  1. WOW!!! and you get a story, nice exchange.

  2. Love it David. I am familiar with the nervous parent look in those beautiful moments when only kids can relate to an adult being a kid again.

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