About Me

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I write, mostly to keep my head from exploding. It threatens to do that a lot. My blog is the pixelated version of all the voices in my head. I tend to dive into what connects me to God, my community, my family and my doubt. I do a lot of searching, not as much finding. I’m good with that. I have learned, finally, to live comfortably in the gray. In the meantime, I wrestle with God, and my doubt and my joy.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

If I But Go

There are places of wonder
and glory
and kindness
and sin,
an infinity of not-here
places.
I wonder if I will
ever see them
all.

But you know, there are
bills to pay
and Things
I must see to.
And then there's the
cleaning
and the fixing
and the doing
and the talking
and the bills
that crop up
on every list I make -
a never-ending List,
an infinite iteration of
letters
and numbers
of owing and being
owed.
It is All a
never-ending
kaleidoscope of
doing,
this life thing
that I do.

But
there are places of wonder,
even so.

I should go;
just
Go,
because I wonder,
and I can sip at
glory
and sin
both.
And I could wander
forever.

But there is still
owing, And this
life thing
that keeps me tied to
Here.

Even so,
I feel this urge to go,
and hear this voice
that urges me, Tells me to
Go;
to pack up and cut
the ties that bind
and comfort
and are so
familiar
they feel like
love. But
there have been
certain Promises
of wonder and
glory
and kindness
and sin,
if i but cut
if i just
Go
and go and go
farther
further
deeper in
higher up
to find
my
self
my
God
my
greatness.
if I but
Go
and go
until I am Finally,
blessedly

There.




Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Kaddish D'rabanan: Tied to the Up

For my teachers

You wove a thread of words -
a hundred,
a thousand,
an infinity of words,
all twisted and
twined.
One thread
and then another
and yet another,
until there were
a hundred,
a thousand,
an impossible -
improbable -
infinity of threads
that you wove into
a rope
that twisted and
twined
and climbed
into the Up
and the All
and the Everything.
It bound me
to the here
and the sky
and the You.
A breath.
A word.
A thread.
A rope.
Tied and twisted
and leading me home.

Monday, October 27, 2014

Morning Prayers

In the morning
I write my prayers
on the sky
so that when I look up
I can see
Blessings.
And when they have
danced
Long enough
they fall,
To tangle in the trees
until every leaf -
Of greengold and
scarlet
and brittle brown -
they dance, too,
clinging in delicate
grace
for a heartbeat
moment
before drifting again
to tangle at my feet
and collect in my
pockets.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

The Space Between

In the beginning
there were no
names.
there was nothing
to outline the
edges
no form
no shape.
No names.

So there were no
words
To separate
the days
From the colors
From the sharp from the
sweet from
the holy from the
rest.

So maybe it was
every color
and all time
and sharply sweet
or sweetly sharp,
and holy holy holy
never
and forever.

But there were no
names
for it.
and no edges
no space
between is and
was
until God spoke.

And the words
flew forth
and came to be
and created the is
and the was
and separated
the whole
in eager
urgent
graceful
breaking.

And in the breaking
in the sudden and
sweet
edges
that outlined
the all and the
everything
And the spaces
between

Holy.








Sunday, October 12, 2014

Forever Song - Psalm 145

Forever is a long time,
but I will try
to sing
an endless song.

I will sing
of greatness
and glory,
     of pain
     and love.
And praise will rise
like heat
in my body.

I will live in Your
forever house,
and sing You
a forever song
     a psalm
     of mercy
     and stumbling
     grace.

I will feast
at Your table.
and recount Your
greatness,
     and I will find joy
     Rising,
     an endless hosanna
an eternal psalm.

Forever is a long time
but I will sing
to You
a forever song



Friday, October 3, 2014

#BlogElul 29 (#Tishrei 9-10) - Return

I like the symmetry of return.

I like the idea that, no matter how linear we think we are, or time is, or God is, we tend to find a way back. As I've written before, even God recognizes this: why else create t'shuvah before ever creating the Heavens and the Earth?

Those rabbis, diving into text that is written in and between all the magnificent letters of the Torah! At least, that's how I see midrash. Today. Tomorrow? Perhaps they are just stories, made up to fill in the holes, or the blanks that God left. Or maybe Moshe left blank spots - too weary having to carve a second set after that little incident with the Golden Calf, carving in one night what God had taken 40 days to do the first time around. Or just maybe, it's all Torah.

Torah. Even that isn't linear - we begin at the beginning, but there is no end. Again and again, just when we think it's over - the story is played out, the cast has all gone home - we begin again. I love when we unroll the whole thing - we see the whole of the story, from end to end to end: parchment and ink. All the words. All the mitzvot. All the awe and fear and trembling and demands that we be holy, that we care for one another, that we love, in between the anger and pettiness and war.

Unrolled, we wrap it, this sacred, holy, ancient, living thing - we wrap it around our children, we hold it up, to study, to read, to chant, to learn and teach.

We return, again and again to this, the beginning, the middle, the end. It encircles us all, draws us in, holds us dearly.

I stand here today, returned to this place, and offer this poem, that I wrote last year, to begin the journey to return. As I said, I like symmetry. I offer this, as my prayer, that we make this journey together, and that we return, again and again, to find wonder and love and God and each other.

The Edge of Everything

We gathered,
all of us,
having walked this long road
Before.

There is so much I don't
remember of it:
Cold
and dust
and heat-cracked pavement.

And noise!
God, the noise--
It could tear you apart
and get inside your head
and all you want
is just a little piece of
Quiet,
A chance to
Breathe
without feeling like
Everything--
your hope
your fear
your love
and
doubt--
All of it,
All of you
was caught
somewhere in your chest,
or maybe your throat,
And all you want is just one small
Breath
to be easy
and quiet.

So we gathered
there,
Here
at the edge,
the very edge of
Everything;
Stopped in our noise
and our doubt
and fear.
Stopped
at the edge
of love
and hunger:
At the edge of want,
to catch the light
of a thousand suns
and ten thousand moons
and absolute

Stillness.

Glinting of silver
and an infinity of
Blue,
Subtle variations
of color
and depth,
Caught
in the  reflection of
Sky.
Caught,
all along the edges,
with light.

We gathered here,
Together,
at the edge,
bathed in
silence
and bending light,
weary and
ready, 
to leap. 
To dive into that pool
filled to overflowing
with love
and doubt
and hunger 
and hope,
that waiting pool of 
Self.

There, 
And filled now with sudden, shivery
Stillness,
and stars that reel
in mirrored waters.

And so I leap
With the light of
Heaven,
Of earth and sky,
Reflecting
all my doubt
my love
and longing.

And I remember
A road of dust and
Heat-cracked pavement
And I gather in the noise
And light
And breath-stopping fear,
Gather them in, to
Release them
In a single
Graceful sweep:
There is beauty in my pain.
There is more in
Letting go.

And so I breathe:
I am returned
To the edge of my
Beginning.


May your new year be sweet, and may you be sealed in the Book of Life for a year of joy.