Sunday, May 16, 2021

49 toward the Omer

malkhut shebmalkhut

the reason
you choose
the work

be how
you do it

and sometimes,
the pain
of the world
not having
to heal it

have seventy
faces—so do I—

We will turn
ourselves, each other,
around again and again
and find everything in it.

48 toward the Omer

yesod shebmalkhut

The dog lays down on the dike.
It looks so good, I try it myself.
Do you need to be pet? I get asked.
Everyone laughs.

And in this hug,
here, by the bike,
I’m done worrying
about if I am wanted,
and our connection,
thus, is possible.

Friday, May 14, 2021

47 toward the Omer #2

hod shebmalkhut

I sit on the stone ledge, give myself space to know that I don’t have to know what’s here in order to be here, let the search to know fall away. What’s left? Well, everything. I walk home barefoot, step after dusty step, find myself unexpectedly met.

47 toward the Omer

hod shebmalkhut

She asks if I want someone else in the room, tells me what I will feel before I feel it, guides me to breathe deep and let my body sink down to the earth, shares what a trigger point is. You’re not making it up, she says,

referring to muscle pinching nerve that muscle then tightens to protect, maybe a referral from somewhere else, and refers me to PT. You’re not making it up, she says. She says this and not only this, and in giving me both, she gives me a way forward.

Thursday, May 13, 2021

46 toward the Omer

netzach shebmalkhut

Постоянно, my brain says, as it has every netzach day for weeks. I finally look up the etymology, relearn the combination of standing and time that makes up always. Is eternity in perfective or delimitative aspect? I ask. Depends where you’re looking out from, God says.

45 toward the Omer

tiferet shebmalkhut

At night my mouth learns what giving and receiving actually mean—another narrow bridge rediscovers joy—and today is the third day running, which means I’m off and running. My jawbone bounces with each footfall, masseter and temporalis finally trusting me to keep me safe.

The thoughts are a restless kitten; I take her out of my head, into my hands. Eva, Theo, and Rosa head to shul, and I am with them part of the way. No more lip service, God says. Yeah, I’m done with that, I say.

44 toward the Omer

gevurah shebmalkhut

I run to someone else’s home, knowing they are not home. The thoughts come, and I remember I have more choice than I used to. What do I have other than choices? God, give me what I need to know in order to change,

but ideally not by the way of suffering. Maybe, God says, what a soul is is the ability to change without any external input. Free will was in this place, I say, and I didn’t know it. I set my direction again, again, again.

43 toward the Omer

chesed shebmalkhut

Today, I put on my shoes, run to their house regardless of if they are there, knock on the window. I wait a moment. I see the growth of the succulents in the stone bowl. I keep myself. At home, I run home.

42 toward the Omer

malkhut shebyesod

I bring half an apple, water, my keys, a handkerchief, and all the people and choices and years that have helped me get to this place where I am solid enough in myself to ask you if you can help me understand.

41 toward the Omer

yesod shebyesod

When you lay a new foundation, does it go above or below the old one? Foundations, God says, are not linear; that’s how they can also be connections. How awesome is this place, I say. Me? You? Here? God says, laughing.