At two years of age, Henry moves his body with an economy suggestive more of wise elder than young poodle pup. Neither skip nor squirm betrays enthusiasm or interferes with the silent, zen-like bearing of his slender ten-pound frame.

I’m digging deep dark down. Mining for gold…for something to write. Somewhere a geyser of words awaits, somewhere Vesuvian vitality pulses.

Catching an archetype as it acts within one’s own consciousness builds more consciousness. The reward is increased choice, greater freedom, and deeper connection to oneself.

A visit with my friend Don leads to conversation about the word ‘futile’. Philosopher by training and temperament …