How it feels to be TLK me- with respects to Zora Neal Hurston
    I pity some people. Day in and day out they scurry like ants in a hive, searching for the last morsel of food, producing their version of folic acid while maintaining a steady pace of work, work and more work. Unique? Yeah ... right. Life is developing into a hustle and bustle, a primitive dance in which we participate as the sun rises and sets. Our collage of computers, super-speed communications, and wireless words adds dangerous versitility 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 find myself scampering through life like some 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 others passing as friends for a trip of some sort. No matter how long or how short, we seldom manage to converse long before lapsing into a tenuous silence broken only by the shuffling of CDs player and sometimes excessively loud songs.

    On this day, as fortune might have it, The Lion King on Broadway Original Cast Soundtrack had its number called. Before long, I felt besieged by a new torrent of feeling as I rode along. Tsidii Le Loka's wakeup call tickled the innermost regions of my heart and mind in "Circle of Life". The raw animal instinct emenating from "Chow Down" agitated my stomach hungrily. Rafiki's mourning cries haunted my ears and attacked the primal veil of music with the pent up fury of the ages. The sounds of "Shadowlands" petted my ears to an almost peaceful sleep before shattering it with mind-blowing skill. "Endless Night" extended its effervescent 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 fiery blood of the warrior coursed 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 assegai, and touch that part of me deprived and denied for years and for years to come! A mighty howl from pent up instincts exploded from my soul though my lips parted soundlessly. I rose and danced the ancient dances of my ancestors, though neither my feet nor my body so much as quivered. 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 booming silence of the end pervaded the moving vehicle.

    "Good music, those Disney people make." was the only comment my friend had, 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 others in the world, just heard to the music with the blind numbness of a rushed society. He did not, would not, and perhaps *could* not, experience its more deep undertones. To him, there was nothing more than notes floating through the air.
    He would never feel what it is to be TLK me.