It is Thanksgiving here in Canada, and so, my time here this morning is brief. The family are assembling from far and near for a classic festive meal later today, and every counter is covered with bowls, casseroles and baking dishes. The little blue house is full of fabulous spicy smells, and heady aroma of the cranberry sauce bubbling away on the stove pervades everything.
I usually begin my Herculean labors on this day with a litany of gratitudes (or perhaps beatitudes), but this year I am keeping things short and sweet. To the One who set me here and fills my life with wonders large and small, with love and friendship and wild adventures, who granted me a small place in this vast and perfectly turning cosmos - namaste, a gassho and my heartfelt thanks.
Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who share the north with me and who are also observing this festival. For all of you north and south and east and west, for blithe spirits who are here now and those who have traveled beyond the fields we know, I am giving thanks.