Here's how to dish out the real soul food.
A poem:
"You pray for silkworms and butterflies.
Dance, and your twisting wrists chafe against shackles.
Sing, and grey moths escape your open throat."
The struggle of having opinions and hating politics wholeheartedly at the same time.
It's too cold for anything longer than seventeen syllables.
Shabbat is a time of peace, but for an anxiety-sufferer, the quiet can be a struggle in itself.
A stranger on a rooftop teaches Elizabeth how to keep Shabbat and keep her sanity.
How can a day that seems so hostile to creativity be the wellspring from which all creativity flows?
Spending Shabbat in a 7-family settlement atop a hill in Samaria.
No politics. Pass all the food. And tell us your life story.
I spend the whole week living like a pinball; bouncing and ricocheting through life. By the week’s end, the last thing I need is someone telling me how to relax.
