Makeup-stained and marked-up siddur pages remind us that prayer books double over as story books.
A lot of what you are seeing in the world right now is a collective re-triggering of old wounds, in a constant onslaught.
The ticking reminder of time nuzzles against my ribs. Slow down, it says. Do less, take in more.
The repetition of lifting a weight, no matter how heavy it is, gives you both a sense of purpose and a sense of openness.
I know Gershon Legman held the opinion that limericks were not meant to be clean, but this is a family post, so, sorry! Or, you're welcome!
Knowing other souls: glorious, but maybe the end of fun.
Neshamas struggle to make decisions about their lives.
What might happen if instead of seeing any particular political stance, affiliation or agenda, we saw a Jew? A person? A soul?
Looking back, learning, and laughing with love. How do we relate to who we once were?
