The universes peculiar sense of humor. Does anyone else notice that the winds of major change seem to attract all manner of leaves, twigs, detritus, farm animals, yachts, etc. So, you are challenged not only by writing the end of a chapter, but you are required to write the beginning of the next at the same time. No link, no rhythm, Chaos. You sit and ponder, logic dictating that you focus on writing the best beginning that you can, setting up the tone and groundwork for the next chapter, yet you are not allowed that, as the chapter you must close first keeps hounding you and tickling your brain, tugging on your sleeves like a 3 year old wanting candy.

Maybe I just dont get Jazz. 3/4 time cacophony and I cannot hold on to a melody. I hear it, it pulls my being and then elusively flits away. I cannot find the beat, the grounding of my feet in earth. Only in moments do I touch either, so I strive to make the most of those moments. The moments of oneness and clarity.