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.
Restless heart, mindless spirit, driven to and fro across the landscape of the heart, without reservation, continuously searching the perimeter, scanning the horizon for something new.
Relentless in its intention, the yetzer hara attempts to deceive the soul into thinking that empty promises will amount to something, better than the rewards of diligence, perseverence, and adherence to a rule.
Yet, I know that my daily routine is arranged with respect towards Heaven, so that my soul may be lifted up above this mundane world. And, no amount of distractions may be permitted to prevail over what is Essential.
There is not a single blade of grass, that is actually greener on the other side of my sacred moments in time, nor, the place where I rest in solitude. Rather, it is the noisy jungle, outside of my Refuge, that will remain unexplored, for the sake of true sanctity.