An Ode to Water Expertly designing a pond over and over and over, a sculpted body of water to please my spirit. The circles made me dizzy so early in the morning.  Suddenly  nervous system jangled, my curves split  apart. Short circuited from a world  of          uncontaminated creativity I was shoved into “the now.” My brain, synapses  then        stalled, rendered the “artist” inanimate to  the voice on the telephone.       Past the time for morning coffee, my absorption flown,  now the designated designer stumbled outside to do——something. Wilted plants in the garden caught my eye.  Watering, yes, a job to prod my lagging  inventiveness.  And so I happily doused all the thirsty vegetation in sight  and  then — with a   wonderful long clear spray,  I also lavished  those that adorned my balcony along with five books, three pamphlets my breakfast room table, “Roots of Consciousness,” message on oneness, an aboriginal tribe who found water where no others could. Origins, myths, mysteries and  “How to Build a Pond.”   Copyright ©  1996,2006 Cara   Back