Discovery:

Hearing him laugh, was odd.

His posture was upright – slovenly, and yet – somehow, well dressed. He had two different socks with quickly, groomed hair. There was a stain - tucked under - his jacket sleeve.

What did the vendor say?

Carrying a briefcase and a coffee, he approached. Placing his coffee, beside himself, nodding in recognition, he sat down, then sitting down the briefcase - next. He placed it against the outside of the bench – on his right.

Aren’t there other benches – elsewhere?

Looking forward, the space between us was far from distant. A tad uncomfortable.

Tempted to ask him, “why, did you sit here?” – instead, choosing to observe.

A park was a typical place to relax and enjoy a warm day. Most who arrive at the park are either, meeting someone, or – would like to be alone.

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Through our silence, he spoke softly.

In a reply toward him, saying, “pardon?”

He said, “Will you answer? What strikes you, curious?”

Looking at him, unsettled, saying, “Yes! Wonder has struck – your laughter is gregarious. Everyone smiles, but there are few who laugh. Most are noisy and you, you are quiet.”

His response was stunning. To question his etiquette was normal? Politics, religion, and nowadays, orientation – sites anger. Was it the time for such a comment? How would you react if a man told you, “God is dead?” An argument, chosen by him was surprising to hear.

In a reply, saying, “pardon?”

The man replies, “you may have misheard, be well.” Already standing up as he spoke, he left with his last word. Puzzled about such manners of existing, the time passes before any realization dawns. A few deep breaths were in order.

The nerve of this man to speak such things – belief or not. Who was he? Was he new to the neighborhood?

In a glance, looking over at the briefcase confirmed it was there. Surely, he will be back for what is his. Posed to find more information about, this man, there must be something inside. An envelope? Business papers, maybe – he was a writer? It could explain his odd behavior, in part, if he was a writer. What if, there is money, and he forgot the case – completely?

It is possible? He doth say such offbeat things, (chuckles).

A time to decide if any, slinking casually toward the briefcase – it was simply, a minor readjustment in position. Who could have noticed? Lurching closer to the handle, slumping over – laterally – to the right side, real… inconspicuous-like. It looked, as if, someone was falling asleep.

Eyes feeling droopy, closing every… now…, and again…

Head nodding off, dropping lower and their body slumping to the right side until…

Got it!

Their hand grasping the handle of the forgotten briefcase. Then pausing to avoid suspicion, and holding for: three, two – wake up…

Fully aware and awake! A well stewarded leather briefcase was sitting on lap, like the computers of today. Two hands holding the briefcase’s corners. Two eyes glaring at each aluminum latch, a bead of sweat forms, still - on a mild day.

Each thumb pressed and ready to open his briefcase.

The left thumb presses down on a latch… click.

Then the right thumb presses down on a latch…click.

Working in harmony both hands lift the lid, as a voice of reassurance says,

“There is no on sitting beside you. Stay calm. You know others will see you being nervous, stay confident, you’ve made the choice.”

Finally, (chuckles) the briefcase is open.

Do you know the feeling you get when, the wildest possible outcome, happens? Well, if it happened once, it may be enough, now…now…was the second time! There was an empty envelope, a black book with golden trim – very fancy, and a black case protecting a phone – inside his briefcase. Opening the black phone, like a hard cover book, the notebook portion of his phone was open, and read:

“God is the universe. Pulling us to him.

He expelled us throughout - as members!

All with a function. We create, he is resting now. He has done his work. It is working for him. We are, each, with a part. However, even our body gets rid of waste, it is what comes from us. Will your ideas destroy others with their bite? Will we continue to be hounds? May arrested development be no more. The rules are like nails, holding, two by fours, in place. While we walk away, and cook our meals - eat our fill, wash our cups, then again, rest our heads. We forget rules are in place. If we are waiting for the morning and our eyes to open - then yes, rules are like nails. The nails are secure. We work, rise, and wake up. The day dawns, working through the night. Have you done it once? Do it again, then, repeat. Yet to find a day, where all the work is done, continuing is coveted, and misunderstood. Let’s cross a healthy boundary to progress healthier. When is it about morals? Who and when, prompt us, if we are unstable. This is, about you, we work. Will your conclusion be forty-four? Is it, our creation - life – in part? What will you accept? Again, yet to find when growth stops.

Art and alchemy imply it will continue, and so, let us eat our tails. Let us stand up and become people. Accept our lot, add more - always. We will be thankful - when we ask ourselves how?

Firstly, a practice of messaging and it being received - in speaking - undoing a wrong. Time will pass, righting. Again, to be here - joyousness to all. A travelling man, with dusty feet. Two, life - times, both on another foot. Around we go and if we stop, will we know? The quiet sayings we each hold - may be angry because we keep them inside. Freedom, instead of rage. Together, equal.

Unequal alone.

In, equality, renewed - through acceptance. Against our will, we work against with resistance. Why then, will it be different? Should we care for ourselves and trust in who we are?

Or listen to others, telling us how to undo what we have yet become? They are still undone and will resist being undid. How does the body react when it must change, is it unsettled? It is removed from the unknown, if, the rules we hold are producing undoing.

We can learn to breath, and be settled, fixing the broken bits – calmly. There is enough with you, at your disposal, for your help. All is with you. Steal a new way. Working backward so we may go forward. Strength to adapt, will be - a will, leading to stability. If we can speak, but it is broken - who will listen? If we can feel, but our heart is broken - what are we missing? There are only a few questions, does it show? We are hurt. Vulnerable, a place it can push you into corners, and what! Proactive would struggle, prior, while we wait, being – still. Who we are and yes, the choices we have made are like, all is one and one is all. To study history, forgetting us. Again, wake up, and breath.

A bit dazed, while setting the phone to it’ s original position, it felt – as if, he wrote specifically. Belief was something used sparingly. Spending a few minutes around a character who: rummages through another’s briefcase and, you can tell, the self-confidence would make it clear.

Well onward and upward, others are here, there is no time to dilly dally.

The black book with fancy golden trim, it was old. He must not have enjoyed fiction. Grabbing another one of his belonging and with an open the book discovered, it was hollowed out.

Really! Now, that’s an envelope full of cash.

“Bananas!”

Inside - it felt as if a hurricane whirled around with possibilities.

A few people throw the stink eye, noticing the jubilation, filing through the bills in the envelop like a businessman in a hurry. It was between the twelfth and thirteenth hundred-dollar bill – he had placed a note. Taking a moment to gather composure, then with a straight face, read the note. The ink was marker and was barely visible from the backside of the piece of paper. Flipping it over, it was written, “Fortune and abundance be upon you.”

In a briefcase, there was: a phone in a black case, a black book with gold trim, and a white envelope full of money. It was left, by an odd man, who laughed and said outrageous things. He could sit down anywhere. Here we are with his briefcase and a new life ahead, supposing a choice is made. What would you do?

A bead of sweat remains - still, and a tear falls. Good day.