<br/>He grinned pleased with her response.<br/><br/>"Yes, that is the point!" GoodFellow said.<br/><br/>He held out a small hand wisk from a drawer.<br/><br/>"At one time it was just sand with coloring. Now it's a colorful design. And in a moment it will be just sand with coloring again."<br/><br/>He stepped aside as he spoke to her.<br/><br/>"Sweep the mandala into the can please," and pushed the trash can below the edge of the computer table.<br/><br/>"Nothing. Except, according to tree huggers, possibly plastic containers. Nothing stays the same.  "<br/><br/>"If you can see that in your life. And accept it. You will simply flow with the current of the moment. Never broken."<br/><br/>He dropped her file records in the center draw of his desk with a pile of others that look as disorganized as the drawer itself.<br/><br/>"You've been very busy spitting into a strong wind and stepping on superman's cape."<br/><br/>He shut the draw with finality as if to say that's behind you now.<br/><br/>"The Mandala and I are going to show you how to bend like a young sapling until you are strong enough to withstand the hurricane winds around you."<br/><br/>He shrugged as he watched her.<br/><br/>"It's your choice. Your way. Take your time.  You may not even know what you do best.  So I will give you a flavor of everything."<br/><br/>"We begin today. Here.  Now. With the sweeping of the mandala. And choices."<br/><br/><br/>