Sixth Tuesday

The notion that I should wait for the call of the rivers to be louder than the call of building maintenance and Breach of Contract is sitting well. This morning still finds me fuzzy and without much clarity on what I should do next, but that's okay. Life is not about being perfect. It's about working ^it^ out. Small steps, big faith and lots of prayer.

I've been working a jigsaw puzzle to pass the time. The puzzle is titled, "The Sadness of Gaia." The title fits the theme of my contemplation beautifully. My river dreams were born in the desperation of a child caught in the world of sexual depravity and unstable family dynamics. Whenever triggered to flight, my flight typically ended in the nearest watershed. One watershed invariably leads to another and the river dreams grew. My fascination with watersheds accumulated and grew with me into adulthood like the drops from a suburban roof. Inside those watersheds, I frequently found the human-inflicted wounds upon Mother Nature which hurt me almost as badly as being rented out to sexual perverts, etc., by parents, etc. Similar human inflicted wounds can be found right here on this 140 acres of future city on the Southern Great Plains. "The Sadness of Gaia" does, indeed, strike my senses as an appropriate theme for my current psycho puzzling. What we humans do to our Mother Earth is another recurring theme in my river dreams.

Sorting. . . Where does this piece go? More sorting. . .