Rain

We are down in Laguna Beach for the holidays. This picture was taken this morning early (I-Phone) to show the results of two days of pretty much solid rain in Southern California. It actually looks much wetter than the picture might suggest. I gather there is much more to come in the course of the coming week. Still...

We aren't allowed to feel sorry for ourselves. I spoke to my sister this morning: there's a foot of snow in Cirencester, where she lives in the Cotswolds. The images we've been seeing on the TV screen of European cities and airports are dramatic evidence of the havoc being created by the weather there. Likewise a big part of the United States. My sister thinks it's Nature getting back at us. And still we have the climate-change deniers in Washington paralyzing any serious discussion, let alone the need to take action; and still we have countries throughout the world--most recently at the conference in Mexico--talking to a standstill. Woe is us...

I have been struggling with Skype. I signed up a couple of years ago, but abandoned it after a couple of conversations with the grandchildren in England. We had not mastered the art of using the medium, and the result was frustration and confusion. We also found the visual effect distracting: the placement of the camera at the top edge of the computer means that, if you're looking at the other person on the screen--and they at you, on theirs--everyone is looking down, rather than at each other. Still, at my sister's urging, I managed to get the application working again this morning, and the three of us had a fine conversation, with a cameo role for George. Now we're planning to make more use of its potential.

I'm halfway through a new book, and will be writing more about it soon. In case you're looking for a wonderful Christmas present for a friend who's contemplating a meditation practice, let me recommend it right away. It's called Choosing to Be, by Kat Tansey. The subtitle is "Lessons in Living from a Feline Zen Master," and it's about the teaching wisdom of the author's Maine Coon cat. Should your mind jump to "cute," let me promise you: not the least bit cute. A beautifully written, deeply felt, throughly believable conversation between human and cat about the difficulties we humans face in our daily lives, and the wonderful solace afforded by the Buddhist teachings about meditation.