I am starting to slip and slide on cold, dark green, thick grass. It slopes down into a dark pit. A dusty, dirty, brown pit where if you sit at the bottom you look up at a patch of skylight, but it seems very far away. Procrastinating endlessly… no shovel that digs up! I’m a little nervous mole. I’ve found my way back into my hole where instead of actually acting on my goals and tasks… I just dream about them. It’s very quiet again… and my little mole ears quiver, listening and waiting and wondering when something might happen.