Another morning of pouring rain. I struggle to both get out of bed and to go out into that wet. And it is cold. Winter is coming hard and fast. I try to take comfort. There is some. (After all, most of us are not living in Gaza. Oh, bless them. What a hell they are experiencing). For me I find grace and comfort in the small things. Big jumpers are one such. I have two now – huge oversize lambswool ones from M&S. They enfold and encompass me. I am lost in them. It is good. And then there is the prospect of Advent and the lighting of those candles. And then there are the carols and all that sublime choral music to anticipate. Meanwhile, I continue to read about death. The Tibetans meditate on death daily. It is a good practice. We are nothing. I am nothing. I should remember this when I stir myself up so over those ten thousand things.
