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.

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.

Across the spring meadow, Forget-Me-Not flowers bring sweet reminders of vital etiquette and scheduling I have neglected. In the grip of a pain winter, thieving shadows creep across a bitter calendar landscape. These are the major aspects of Everyday Living I tend to forget for my planner life.

Pain asks me to “do something.” I wanted to learn how these figurative demands affect my Everyday Living. So, I created a new topic in my commonplace book: my pain metaphor.