For my weekly writing spot on this site, see the One-Minute Mystic, with a new meditation posted every Monday. Also see The Village, the story of Misty Longings, England's most beautiful village, posted episode by episode earlier this year.       All was going well, until the bouncy morning weather forecaster came on air. "Good news!" she says, "It will be mild today." And I'm wondering: "Mild? Why on earth is that good news?" And feeling a bit like Jimmy Porter. In 1956, establishment England was greatly shocked by the play Look Back in Anger by John Osborne. The rage and vitality of its language, and its themes of class war and marital angst, was a far cry from the cleverly composed and emotionally retrained dialogue of contemporary theatrical favourites such as Noel Coward or Terence Rattigan. Instead of cerebral drawing room exchanges, here was visceral rant. "Oh heavens!" cries the anti-hero, Jimmy Porter in an outburst against life in claustrophobic class-ridden England. "How I long for a little ordinary human enthusiasm! Just enthusiasm – that's all. I want to hear a warm thrilling voice cry out hallelujah! Hallelujah! I'm alive!" I'm a great fan of the weather for the same reason – it reminds my blood and guts that I'm alive; drawing the "Hallelujah" of shock and awe. It is no friend, of course. The weather treats us as it will, and as with God in the book of Job, complaining doesn't help: "What shall I answer you? I lay my hand on my mouth. I have spoken once and I will not answer; twice, but will proceed no further." The weather presents itself – sometimes rudely, sometimes wonderfully – but always goading us into reaction and life. Some take the weather on, of course. They can't question it; but they can fight it. And so it was that earlier this month, three Canadian trekkers broke the world record for the fastest trip across Antarctica to the South Pole. Unaided, they walked the freezing 1300 km on skis and snow shoes, in just under 34 days. And it wasn't just the cold. Despite their bodies and faces being covered, they all suffered sun burn from the light reflected on the snow. These men were experienced extreme-weather adventurers, but as one said, this walk was their toughest task yet: "I ran 7,500 km across the Sahara, but my feet are in worse shape now." So if it is icy and numbing our toes – so be it; and if it is bright and burning – so be it; and if the wind is stinging like a wet slap – so be it. For this is the present moment, thrillingly demanding our attention; lest we be lost in past or future things. On a recent run up by the Alexandra Palace, I looked down on a London marinated in a rich orange and crimson sky. Stunning. But on reaching the foot of the hill, the colours and clouds were quite different – because weather's like that; very present. "At the back of our brains," said GK Chesterton, "there is a forgotten blaze or burst of astonishment at our own existence. The object of the artistic and spiritual life is to dig for this submerged sunrise of wonder." Good news! It won't be mild today. More writings © Simon Parke