Never ever perform gastral travel in an elevator.
Like so many things we do, travel is simply a fact of life.
We move.
Movement can be a product of involuntary forces or voluntary forces.
We can be drawn to move our selfs.
Our physicality makes movement job number one.
From our most base needs to our more abstract needs, we move. This may be as simple as moving our arm to scratch our ear to moving around this old world.
What drives us to move? Asking ourselves if we are drawn to someone or something or if we move away from someone or something. Is it choice or chance? Are we the driver or driven?
What moves you?

Seems like some folks never look up. They walk towards the vision in their mind and let the body take care of journey.
Lost in thought? Maybe or perhaps simply not found.
Ever say to yourself "How'd I get here?" or "What am I doing this for?".
Somehow we get so used to not looking up we miss that old Buttermilk Sky.

We miss those times we lay flat on our backs, in the grass, watching the clouds tumble in slow motion. Tumbling our imagination. Reading the tea leaves of a Spring Day.
Let our imagination bloom and follow the clouds like a Sun flower.

Some of us just look down all the time. We only see the Shadow of the clouds and feel the chill as the Lucky Old Sun hides behind Buttermilk.

Like Hermit Crabs we grow into our shell, withdraw when frightened and come out claws first.
Old Buttermilk Sky sailing above us, dreamily moving from night to day. Take me to what I am and can be in. Clouds are tea leaves of the imagination that our Good Gypsy hearts read.

The Bloom is on and flowers become abundant in the luxury of a warming sun and longer days. The Green becomes electric and skies are Bahama blue over head. Still comes the crisp morning air that reminds of what winter's reign had brought.

We shed in the warmth of mid day and after the blush of morning comes the rhythm of busy.

We color our world with how we dress, what we do, what we say and how we act or not act. We choose colors and lay them out from within.

Let's not break someone else's crayons. Let them color outside the lines.
Enjoy the wonder of expression. Simply turn to the colors of joy.

Should someone try to break our crayons, it is because they fear our joy, and our joy speaks of their lack of joy.

Use your crayons well!