Creativity is cyclical. As it goes, many aspects of life can either destroy or produce creativity. You wear it like an ancient dress—imbued with language, culture, traditions, and beliefs.

Maybe my physical symptoms make a deceptively static picture of me. What are the limits of conventional symptom reporting? Ill-fated goats keep taking to the bridge, only to become the next snack for the troll of elusive reasons. These are the major clarifying questions my doctor never asks about life dynamics.

Mother Nature, an enchantment, is always putting on a show. All creatures, great and small, working together in a mystery of faith. Forever. Throughout the year, her love cadence stirs belief in a benevolent world.

Ouch. Thorny vines and gray, rotting leaves. The scraggly and overgrown garden truly needs a makeover. My broken trowel is woefully inept at breaking up the hardened soil. The world spins me into a deep isolation, stripped of my values and desires. Just as a cold brew of wrath and resentment begins, I turn to the concept of interdependence.