It’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving and I was thinking of what I should be thankful for.
In my case, of course, there are so many things.
But I was thinking of specifics.
Maybe each day I’ll list one.
In no particular order.
Authors came immediately to mind, naturally.
How many have helped me through this year?
Jon Katz’ Bedlam Farm blog. My daily savior.
Where would I have been without his guidance through the minefield of this election year?
Jon, you’ll never know how grateful I am.
Over the years, I’ve read all sorts of books on all sorts of subjects. At the moment I seem to be mostly in the mode of detective stories.
Louise Penny, Archer Mayor, Ann Cleaves, Val Mcdermid, Peter May, Jacqueline Winspear.
Then I found something different. Very different.
A series about a Chinese investigator in Tibet.
How was that going to work, I wondered.
So I ordered one of the series of 10 books by Eliot Pattison.
Tibet is a very special place. The Tibetan people have suffered unimaginably and I wasn’t sure how I would feel, reading about it.
It was often hard, but I became engrossed.
Through this year, I read the whole series, periodically turning to something lighter. It was one of those series you dread getting to the end of. Like losing a friend, almost.
It had taken me back to Tibet, to a place that touched a deep place in my heart.
It gave me a better understanding and greater respect than ever for the resilient, deeply religious people.
Yes, it often made me cry.
But we cannot ignore everything that makes us sad.
Can one be grateful for something that makes us sad?
Anything that can touch such a human emotion should be celebrated, as otherwise how can we know ourselves?
So, thank you. I am grateful to you, Eliot Pattison for the Shan Tao Yun series.
Recently I started his series about the 18th Century New World. I’m already hooked.