Sadness. Some dear friends of mine got into a big argument today and I donât know how to help fix things.
I know some things canât be fixed except by moving on and leaving the wreckage behind. Sometimes, eventually, new life moves into the wreckage and it becomes an artificial reef: different from what it once was, but alive again and filled with wonder.
Sometimes the wreckage gets buried in sediment, and dug out in a few thousand years. But how could future archaeologists reconstruct a disaster when Iâm not even sure exactly what happened and Iâm here right now?
Sometimes the wreckage is just abandoned, the ashes blowing away in the wind until you couldnât tell anything was ever there. I donât want that to happen.
Sometimes the wreckage isnât as bad as things look at first glance, and the building can be repaired, healed, even improved. Thatâs what Iâm hoping for, but I donât know what to do to help that possibility become the reality.


















