12/22/16... The rain has come, like a greasy elbow pushing everything aside. It is a welcome miracle which, at the same time, causes mudslides, snarls traffic, spin-outs, hydroplanes cars, wrecks holiday plans,  delays and impedes daily tasks. Still the miracle persists. It can be explained away by physics and meteorologists, but that's too dry for the wetness and euphoria of rain. It brings a scent and a rage and an inkling of something, somewhere so much greater than our slight knowingness. It hints at something uncanny, finding home in the distant atoms of our imaginations. I have driven in rain that unleashed its fury against my windshield, blinding me precariously and calling every pulse of my being to pray it stop. But just as abruptly, once subdued and abated, it brought the miracle of relief and peace and the heartening feeling that the world was in charge and I was somehow linked to this extraordinary  plane of existence. That does not mitigate or ignore the suffering in Allepo or in any other chosen part of the world, but Allepo is not a reason for dismissing the stormy beauty of the world.