(this article originally appeared on Elephant Journal) I’m in a love-hate affair with words. Our first relationship crisis occurred when

I was so happy to witness this unique teaching by Sogyal Rinpoche, supported by the world famous dance event company

I’m listening to Natalie Goldberg on a seven-hour audiobook called Thunder and Lightning while writing a book on writing. She

There’s something about snow that reflects our deepest nature. It’s bright and radiant. Its coolness sharp, waking up our senses. Its slipperiness naturally awakening our attention. Like sunshine, snow is undiscriminating, falling on everyone’s car, in everyone’s garden, on every tree, lost glove and empty beer can with the same generosity. Like awareness itself, it doesn’t distinguish between bad or good, pure or dirty. It levels the surface, and blurs our usual reference points of street and pave walk, grass and concrete, important and unimportant. A normally obscure alley reveals its sudden brilliance, becoming no less magical than the snowy statue on the central square just a few blocks away. Like mindfulness, it strips away our habitual reference points so we can access the magic that is always available –if we are just willing to meet it