Acceptance & Renewal

“When night comes, and retrospect shows that everything was patchwork and much that one had planned left undone, when so many things rouse shame and regret, then take all as is, lay it in G-d’s hands, and offer it up to Him. In this way we will be able to rest in Him, actually to rest and to begin the new day like a new life.” – Edith Stein

Every morning,

my mind is like a blank canvas;

until, upon scratching the surface,

I can begin to see layers of sadness

underneath the pristine dermis.

The exploration of each coating

would require careful attention,

as every detail may bring,

meaning to the painting’s revelation.

Like the previous chapters of my life,

the unrealized dreams, yearnings of the past,

unfulfilled hopes – these all resurface

from time to time in my thoughts.

Yet, I am on a new path,

ever since I left my past at the border;

a new trajectory, meant to last,

as if born anew, ever looking forward.

Having sloughed off the doldrums,

brushed off the dust of yesteryear,

and shed outdated programs,

to embrace all that is real.

Still, I am only a human being,

full of memories, dreams and the potential

to transcend, while remaining grounded,

ruminate, while not getting lost in the consequential,

and move steadily forward, while being at peace.

Across the Years

The first evidence of a sense of the divine in my life, occurred when I was very young; my simple belief in G-d, demonstrated by my bedtime routine of saying the Shema Yisrael, praying for the health of my family, kneeling on the staircase leading to my parent’s room.

Years later, as a new ager, I transitioned back to my religious upbringing, when I saw the beauty of eastern thought, reflected in Jewish mysticism. So, I crossed that bridge, finding myself even more aware of the expansive void, that I previously had no name to reckon as an actual entity.

In following the arduous path that I was called to traverse, sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy;° yet, this always proves to be temporary, like the transient sounds of the night, outside the tenement window of a city dweller’s sanctuary.

°Mary Oliver, Spring Azures