Tsimtsum

Waiting for my teacher under a tree

I roll a blade of grass between two fingers. Where is the angel now? I say. You are, God says. I bend over. Everything grows.

49 toward the Omer

I seem to avoid taking the final step because then the only direction to move in is down though I could perch instead with arms round knees eyes open refusing to look there is no way to know the view from the peak before you reach it is there

the view is the others I stopped climbing midway through they are not left behind they are just as here they wait for me even as I say no, no, I am not ready then there is no now if when my back aches from their rocky tops digging

43-48 toward the Omer

And so it is that the moment of meeting goes unwitnessed by the written word.

Running the steps then a final leap up--

42 toward the Omer

God, I had missed this, these singing times, these alone times, these you and me times, let's set a standing date why don't we, Friday nights at ten pm, you bring the world and I'll bring myself, we'll feel some things together

41 toward the Omer

yesod shebiysod

A day of foundations within foundations is a day of sick is a day of sleep is a day of retreat is a day of someone helping me walk home as I say some people feel like this all the time

40 toward the Omer

Humility/Splendor in Connection/Foundation

After a Contest of Silly Walks at HDS I send an email to a listserv on my way to witness a friend's conversion. What a moment of humility, of splendidness, being present as someone acknowledges their connections, their foundations.

Three minutes left
to write a poem

before running
to the T

where I will meet
a fellow traveler

May the ways in which we are interconnected be a source of humility that leads us together to a more splendorous world.

39 toward the Omer

On the T we find a tiny worm on my jacket and carry it on our hands and clothing to bring it outside until we make to exit the train and my attention falters a second and it's gone

38 toward the Omer

there's a magnolia tree with all of these blossoms and then all of these leaves and in the off-season it pulls my hat off if I'm walking looking down as if to say I am still here

37 toward the Omer

I thought that yesterday's step was the last for a while but the next step starts right away and I find myself missing the landing that didn't exist which would have echoed back down to my foundations

and so I hold on to the banister look over the edge to see that the stairs and the ground can be the same the breath is there but it's up to me to weave it through