wash your hands after riding

I was riding the bus yesterday and I was surrounded by the insane, the sick, and the smelly. It was the smell of neglect and hospitals. I wanted to get off the bus but I didn't. I stayed and I listened. And this is what I heard....
"If only they listened to our story then things would be different. We might get the funding."
"I feel like I am on a tread mill, I get no where because I am always scurrying after money."
"I am busy and broke. It's a vicious cycle."
"I am not being heard. Pay attention to me. I'm being stalked."

...this woman was wearing black patent stiletto knee high boots and holding a massive teddy bear...she was young and attractive...she told me to keep my hands to myself after I brushed her with my mittens. She then proceed to fall on me three times as the street car stopped and started. I think she may have wanted our attention. She happened to get off at the same stop at bay and queen. We were then both waiting for the Bay street bus. She gave off a very unbalanced energy...I kept my distance. We got on the bus and rode north. I heard her talking to herself at the back of the bus. She moved to the front telling the bus and the bus driver that she was being stalked by three people on the bus. She announced that she would be getting off at 777 college street. That was my stop too! Was I one of her stalkers? I hoped she didn't notice. I could imagine her taking it the wrong way.

"I can't keep up with the pace"

"I'm burning up."
"I don't feel like me."
"There are so many untold stories."

I was not only affected by the words and voices of the people on the bus.
Blank stares, wide eyed despair, and the smell of human sweat overpowered my senses and filled my dreams.

I woke up to voices in my dreams saying over and over again, "My needs aren't being met."
It wasn't my voice. It was our collective voices. A sound track to a movie on a loop.
And I was reminded that we are one.
Those people on the bus are me and I am them.
True love is seeing myself in others.

We are all hungry to be heard, acknowledged, accepted, and gently touched.
I exist and I have needs.

This reinforces the importance of sitting in circle together.
A Spoonful of Honey Storytelling Art Project.
Is a breath of fresh air.
I am constantly being impressed and inspired by the simplicity and power of sitting in a circle.
Next comes the drum.
Next come the stories.
Next come the connections between people with vastly different origins.
Next comes the art, the action, the energy, the solidarity, the creative human energy, the community.

My tone is serious because I am serious about humour, self expression, and the acknowledgment of my brothers and sisters and our story.