Last night, Lynne and I grabbed some carryout (me) and a summer drink (L.) and sat out on a verandah overlooking the water at Notre Dame. It was perfect; the sun was setting, the lake was still, the breeze was warm. It was a short visit, but there was much to talk about. I felt like time rolled out before me, expansive, in that hour and a half. And I left content, centered, driving the long way home in the dark listening to the radio with my daughter.

I continue to read Buddhist fare. It makes sense, operating instructions on how to be compassionate. Be kind to yourself, be kind to others. Examine your thoughts, your actions, and learn from them. Regard everything as a chance to open up and become a more loving and wise person. Regard everyone, especially those people that irritate you the most, as your teachers. Over and over again I'm grateful to read such things--it's like, oh, Jesus, my Friend, you and the Buddha have more in common than I thought. You two must converse now and then, hanging out, smiling benevolently down on all of us confused and fearful people. Can I sit at his feet for awhile to help me figure this all out?