City as a Playground

City as a Playground: A Rap on Leadership, Hope, and the Wheel of Change

Cities often get described in the language of crisis—battlegrounds of competition, inequality, and noise. But artist and leader Randy Mason of Thrive Collective invites us to imagine something different. Inspired by the work of Leadership Foundations and the reflections of Dave Hillis, Mason’s rap City as a Playground reframes the urban landscape as a place of shared creativity, courage, and collective care.

Hillis reminds us that before any framework or leadership strategy takes shape, cities already speak through their rhythms and relationships. As he writes, “Every city has a rhythm before it has a strategy. A pulse before a plan.” Listening to that rhythm is the starting point for the Wheel of Change—a model that calls leaders to engage people of good faith and goodwill, build the capacity of others, and pursue joint initiatives for the common good.

Mason’s spoken-word piece becomes a soundtrack for that vision.

Picture our city as a playground
instead of a battleground
where children laugh and play
and make a joyful sound
where the elders are like welders
when they come around
to tell us tales one hundred stories tall
from the ground

In Mason’s imagery, the city is not something to escape or merely survive. It’s something to love and steward together.

what if when developers ground break
they found faith?
in a city where sirens are not the signature soundscape
doesn’t it sound great?
sweeter than pound cake
astounding taste
abounding grace
a city without hate

The rap moves through neighborhoods, parks, and shared tables, naming a vision where collaboration replaces competition and where people invest not only in buildings, but in one another.

where courage is concrete
and we complete more than compete
working together to upkeep
the pace of the rhythm is upbeat

This poetic cadence echoes the Wheel of Change itself—relational, collaborative, and always moving. Leaders begin by listening, building trust across differences, and cultivating the kind of partnerships that make transformation possible.

Near the end, Mason delivers a reminder that captures the heart of both the rap and the framework behind it:

to love a city
you’ve got to do a bit more
than live in it

Hillis puts the invitation this way: “The question is not whether God is at work, but whether we will join in.”

Together, the rap and the reflection offer more than inspiration. They offer a posture for leadership—one shaped by curiosity, encouragement, and the courage to stay engaged in the life of the city.

Thanks for listening and sharing.