The horses in the meadow and I on the road beside shared an experience of rain this morning, none of us hurrying to seek shelter. The horses, in fact, grazed calmly as I walked along. Animal wisdom assures them and me that not-cold rain causes us no harm.

I came home, stripped off my wet clothes, took a shower, started the washer. Will I hurt less later for having walked earlier? I appreciate the open, exposed out-of-doors, and I find it ever joyous in its harsh perfection; I appreciate the protected, cozy comfort and shelter of this house that I call home and find it marvelous in its cushy, messy imperfection. Each moment of my life, let me accept whatever comes. Like Rumi writes (translated by Coleman Barks?):

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meannes,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearning you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

~ Rumi

Each moment lingers only for-- well, for a moment...