Messy pieces scattered on the floor, some knowing where they belong, some still finding their place inside of the final product. What is it meant to look like? What object(s) is it creating? I can only see fragments and imagine what the bigger picture is. Sometimes I work to figure out where each piece belongs; make progress in the “puzzle,” and sometimes I let them lay. Scattered. All the pieces there but unsure of what to do with them. Sometimes feeling like I should throw some pieces away, but the puzzle would be incomplete. Maybe this is life. Every piece has a place. The puzzle would not be so without each of its pieces. Will the puzzle ever truly be “complete?” Will we explore each piece, each part of our being? I feel I have the courage to.