It is an enticing sunny day in San Francisco, the body is hungry for a long-missed bike ride, the spirit suggests sitting under a tree by the ocean and writing in my journal. And yet at 3:20 in the afternoon, I still haven’t left the house.
Yes, some of it is still trying to catch up on a publishing business I created because I was impatient for the World’s slow response. With two recently published books by other authors and more in the chute by me, it keeps growing almost just beyond where I want to reach. But once committed, I’m determined to master the basics of it, the ever-shifting means of advertising, distributing, invoicing, revising contracts, etc. etc. and again etc.
But much of it is was returning to the lure of the jigsaw puzzle after some six weeks away from it. The Sirens of the next piece to fit in keep singing and no one is here to tie me to the mast. And so I follow their call and it is as satisfying, mysterious as before, a means to affirm the presence of the intuition and those unseen forces that guide me to a piece and then find precisely where it’s meant to be. At once a metaphor and a physical exercise and in both cases, satisfying that deepest of human needs, the quest for meaning, the sense that everything makes sense and has its proper place, that in the words of Whitman’s invocation in Leaves of Grass.
“Do you see O my brothers and sisters?
It is not chaos or death—it is form, union, plan— it is eternal life—it is happiness.”
And about to be made just a little bit happier by getting out on my bike. After just one more piece……