Thought I might repost this...

How it feels to be TLK me- with respects to Zora Neal Hurston 
  
    I pity some people. Day in, day out they scurry like ants in a hive,
searching for the last drop of food, producing their version of folic
acid while maintaining a steady pace of work, work and more work.
Unique? Yeah...right. Life is a hustle and bustle, a primative dance in
which we  participate as the sun rises and sets. Only this collage of
computers, super speed communications, and wireless words adds speed to
the already limitless pattern of gyrations we do each day. 
    Oh yes! And I, I the greatest advocate for rest and relaxation,
often find myself swept away by the tsunami that is my life. Personality
ethic, character ethic, habits of highly effective people have not lost
their intangible touch on me. I too might find myself scampering through
life like an unfortunate poultry accused in a modern day Reign of
Terror.  In those fleeting moments of relaxation, where I am no longer
attacking or under attack from this sometimes indifferent world, I
manage to collect a small group of those that pass for friends for a
trip of some sort. No matter how long or how short, we manage to
converse only a short while before lapsing into a silence broken by the
shuffling of a CD player and its excessively loud songs.  
    On this day, as fortune might have it, the original Lion King on
Broadway soundtrack had its number called, and before long I was besiged
by a new feeling as I rode along. The sounds of Shadowlands petted my
ears almost to a peaceful sleep before shattering them with mind-blowing
skill. Rafiki's mourning cries haunted my ears and attacked the primal
veil of music with the pent up fury of the ages. Endless Night extended
its effervecent paws into my soul and wrung it as if it were a sopping
wet sponge waiting to be liberated from its heavy load. 
    Suddenly, amidst the vicious sheet of sound that laid siege to my
outer senses, a new inner sense was sparked. A sense I had not felt in
ages, nor may ever feel again. The morning cries of long forgotten
ancestors, in a time when we were kings, floated through my ears as
well. The firey blood of the warrior courced through my veins with an
icy chill that thrilled me as it frightened me. I felt the urge to leap
from my seat, shake my assgei, and touch that part of me deprived and
denied for years and for years to go! A mighty howl from pent up
instincts exploded from my soul though I made no sound. I rose and
danced the ancient dances of my ancestors, though neither my feet nor my
body so much as quivered. And the thrill of success,  and the splendor
of past ages burned within me with a might that could smite the titans
from their
greatest height! 
    And then all was quiet, as the silence of the end pervaded the
moving vehicle. 
    "Good music, those Disney people make." Was the only comment my
friend could make, as he nodded his head and tapped his foot. I could
only look at him with a sadness in my eyes he could not perceive. He,
like so many of the others, had just listened to the music. He did not,
would not, and perhaps in fact *could* not, experience its more deep
undertones. To him, there was nothing more than music. 
  
    He would never feel what it is to be TLK me. 

-Simba W.