First of all, puddles are not objectionable. In the last decade, I captained a fleet of Lego ships as they battled across these brackish seas, constructed stick and stone Colossi towering above the water, and ambled through as if the pool were a portal-like reflection of a mightier ocean. Few more wonderful images exist than that of the child playing in the rain. These days it is harder to find one, with many young ones choosing the Playstation over the puddle. I confess that there have been many days where I personally opted to pwn some sorry noobs in DoTA instead of frolicking in the storm. Yet there have been at the very least an equal number of days where I have confronted rambunctious Thor in the heavens above. It was in the Northeast American woods that I came across the god of the puddles below, and it is always a challenge to determine which journey was the grander.

      One day I embarked upon an adventure at the end of a downpour. At a point, I came upon a fairly drowned path, so I resolved to simply leap over it. As anyone that has had a similar experience will recollect, instead of landing in the relatively shallow water on the walkway, I plopped into the thick, muddy grass on the other side. Like any good adventurer, I had prepared for most everything. Except landing in that puddle. So that time, the above paragraph did not ring so truly to my ears. Sorrowful thing too, for this is a majority opinion amongst adults (unsurprisingly), teenagers (somewhat surprisingly), and children (sadly astounding). Nature is a terrible inconvenience for this world, and puddles are not left behind in our intolerance. People hate parking in them and having to leap across. They hate fouling plush skateboard shoes or gleaming heels in the depths. Puddles beautiful? No. An inconvenience. 

       So what if I had wet socks and a small ecosystem in my shoes throughout that days questing? I am a strong guardian of the puddle and what it represents. You will never find Sheridan Lardner hiding inside from a perfectly good tempest. But what about my Grateful Dead friend? What had his comment meant? I did not speak with him further, and I will not assume anything about his own puddle-proclivities. Yet, he meant something in his quote (unless the chap was referring to the abundance of water on the planet’s surface, in which case, ignore the rest of this piece and send me a snide email). Rare is it to come across a contemporary word puzzle, and rarer still that your eyes and paths intersect on the road. It begged an inquiry, as if the man had approached me and handed me the words on a piece of paper, “I have these words here that I can’t make heads or tails out of. What are your thoughts?”

       The world is in a fix. Even my mother, who always lectures at length on the importance of reading the newspaper, refuses to engage with current events due to the disasters therein. Far far away, bullets and bombs defile the nation of old Babylon, the rock oil that Asterix and Oblelix diligently hunted is no longer so easily found as a spout carrying the seeker high into the desert air. Consumer confidence falls like the stocks of General Motors, an election for supposed change crumbles into squabbles and accusations, and soldiers die defending their own base in a country that was supposedly pacified. Without reeling out too much doom and gloom, suffice to say that the world as a whole faces real challenges on a scale not before seen. Many contend that this is merely the rambling of overspeculative pundits, that the same anxieties existed in our parent’s and our parent’s parent’s generation, that all their worry turned out to be without real cause. Instinct should serve as a guide in these matters, and my own gut, as well as that of many others, indicates that something is terribly amiss. Pinpointing the source of global uneasiness and woes lies in the same realm as cold fusion, dark energy, and green fuel, but that is not important so far as this argument goes. All that matters is that the world does have serious problems, and that is maybe what is meant by “in a puddle.” It certainly seems reasonable, considering that the world is dominated by the types of people that hate puddles, so they naturally would place a pejorative bend on the word. And why not? Dark clouds show no sign of departure anytime soon, and their likes multiply daily.

       Two things about this argument are off. In the first place, the Grateful Dead man did not appear the type to feel similarly to puddles as the majority. There was a bit of childhood remaining. Secondly, as I have said before, in the arts, feeling is always meaning, and there is an artistic quality to his words. So when I feel that there is something more than just mere pessimism, I am inclined to think there truly is. What if the world were indeed in a puddle, but in the sense that a child is saying it. Not a miring, inconveniencing puddle, but the deep sea, portal, fragment of a far off bog sort of puddle. A kind of puddle as viewed by Guillermo Del Toro instead of Donald Trump. The puddle from which a kraken rises to beset Lego caravels, under which dark things crawl in an inky well, for which action figures from far and wide journey to swim in. Not the literal puddle under your car door, but the imaginative one, the figurative one that followed you from your fifth birthday onwards.

         Now that would be cause for hope. No true imaginative child overlooked the dark places for the light, or vice versa. As fun and carefree as puddle stomping is, or all other games associated, so too is there that sense of dread at murky mire, that same feeling when you first gazed upon some enchanted and evil swamp from whatever cartoon or story. Unknown things are within, and it seems wholly unnatural that while lakes and seas are forever there to our eyes, their offspring are so fleeting and yet just as fulfilling. This sense of unease, fear even, towards puddles surely applies to this world. Our woes and fears are aimed at the unknown and the dark, whether the darkening bank accounts, gas prices, or security prospects. A child would see it this way as well.

        But bleakness does not reign unchallenged. For all there was to cringe at in the puddle, there were equal things to grin and smile. Uncover one slimy thing and discover something  grand to even it out (not to imply there is anything wrong with the slimy ones). If this is what my Grateful Dead friend meant, then there is cause for rejoice indeed. His words acknowledge that the state of the world can either be viewed as a horrible inconvenience and barrier, or an opportunity for adventure. I fear triviality more than most, but I offer examples anyway. Students lacking in employment can either bemoan their lack of work, or revel in free days of contemplation and adventure. Those without money for gas can grimace about taking the bus, train, bike, or sidewalk, or they can laugh at the jokes they hear, the odd faces they see, the exercise they attain. Triviality will overtake these examples, if it has not already, so I must stop now. Consider, though, what it means for the world to be in a puddle. Consider it as muddy adversity for your shoes to overcome. Or see it through my own eyes.

Mirror, mirror, upon the ground, in which dreams dwelled and reality drowned.