The Path to a Healing Heart

The Prayer of Maimonides Almighty God, Thou has created the human body with infinite wisdom. Ten thousand times ten thousand organs hast Thou combined in it that act unceasingly and harmoniously to preserve the whole in all its beauty the body which is the envelope of the immortal soul. They are ever acting in perfect order, agreement and accord. Yet, when the frailty of matter or the unbridling of passions deranges this order or interrupts this accord, then forces clash and the body crumbles into the primal dust from which it came. Thou sendest to man diseases as beneficent messengers to foretell approaching danger and to urge him to avert it. Thou has blest Thine earth, Thy rivers and Thy mountains with healing substances; they enable Thy creatures to alleviate their sufferings and to heal their illnesses. Thou hast endowed man with the wisdom to relieve the suffering of his brother, to recognize his disorders, to extract the healing substances, to discover their powers and to

Cleaning, my artful meditation One square of stone at a time I pour water and gather Gather and pour in the intensity of this wave of heat only liquid can alleviate. In every corner now it is apparent how the amethysts are popping up - this in a cluster that one in a chip another in a crystal placed for context in an atmosphere so barren and unyielding to anything but tears. I bumped into a chair a bowl carrying my purple chips waiting for stringing toppled sending the violet beads to the floor bouncing resounding in little smacks as they hit the hard surface. This too became my meditation. Scooping lifting, scraping, finding, carrying, pouring and contemplating the contents of a bowl being filled.

There is a large fig tree that I have been observing since moving here. It is a rare source of insight and shade, and during these times in particular, I am ever so grateful. So I will start with the offering of its feminine quality and this I perhaps will elaborate on further into this essay or in another. It is a sense of its generosity and intuitiveness. It is very much a maternal type of tree, leaves and branches open, dropping its first tiny fruits as a gesture of offering to the ground, to those that cannot climb, to the earth itself in replenishment. Throughout the days since Pesach, I've been noticing increasing numbers of tiny fruit on the ground. Just tossed here and there randomly. Some released by the winds, some by the birds that flock to its branches. Some, I would think by the tree itself in a method of *release* such as one would exhale the breath or release a clenched fist. I notice its self grooming and fastidiousness where it lets go of only the very dry leaves,

Found a CD that I'd had for ages. Finally put it in the tray weird - thought it was Deep Forest in full - complete. It wasn't. Just shards and scraps of what was once the whole CD. It must have been the burning software at the time. Hm. So now I have a CD filled with parts of Deep Forest and a whole bunch of other anonymous tracks that I must've added to the playlist to fill up the blank CD at the time. I never look at the words or titles I just know the songs by length and tune. But this was years ago and so will be uploading the tracks for a communal identifying session on YouTube. Hopefully the names will emerge and fill in the blanks. It's pretty good music.

Paring down and back Cutting through once again Sifting the bags the boxes in the bedroom called *storage*. Been living in transition now for how long? Seems to be coming on 6 years. Since making the resolution to move I've packed away the essentials. Books, dishes, material and craft items. Stocks of a life to be. Combined with the present life I lead. This makes for a jumbled environment when I need a sheet or just a pair of socks. Though it's down to a science, left, right, south and north I know my directions. Every so often I pull out a box and just pare that one down. Today it was the box of bags. Over the shoulder messenger bags. Out. Small duffle - out. A microphone that won't work with my pc and a set of speakers - out. All to a good cause. If one should happen. I'd like to get to the point where I have one box of each necessity. One for clothes One for kitchenware One of crafts One of books One of electronics and one of the items that I use to heal with - see

in Britain: Night-shining clouds light up dark skies of Britain in China: Freak Beijing storm turns day into night

Last year a neighbor cut down the tree in front of my house. Why, you may ask. I asked too. He just said, rather icily that it was because of *snakes*. But I reasoned, is not the entire surrounding area filled with tall grasses and thorns? Why single out one, lone, young tree to chop down on the property I rent? The first time it happened, last year, I was heartbroken. I couldn't calm down. It was a Shabbat morning - the aftermath - that I found out by looking out my window and noticing a bare spot where green once was. I asked the *neighbors* who came and went about their business on that day last year. All I got was stares and shrugs. The day after, this *neighbor* confessed adding - *the whole thing needs to burn down* in typical Achuzam fashion, I might add. What? He is old. Finds me strange. Maybe alluring strange. And this is entertainment when there's nothing else for him to scope out. Free people tv. So he carved a little niche where he sits and waits for me to appear,

You and your damnation It’s beyond explanation I’m in a state of exasperation Where your acts are of castration Defying creation Breaking down cutting down Destroying our holy nation So sick of your ways of destruction I will not take part in your commotion In your party of hatred Where nothing is sacred And the bottom line is gain And total annihilation Killing for the allure Phony, and sick you conjure For your power we endure It’s for greed, guts and gore Nothing more Missiles twisted ballisted Names for killing listed And bones of your sisters Screaming out but you missed it Where you sit That’s just it your corner Of prejudicial shit In a state of confusion Sacrificial lamb of diffusion Keeping up visions of illusion Your namesake is dis-soul-ution Your final solution Absent heart and soul so amiss In your sphere its love you dismiss The mockery and malice when you don a tallis In blasphemy You write your history In infamy Idolatry Into the ages Disregarding our sages As we squi

In seclusion and semi-hermitage for over 30 years. Sometimes I speak Sometimes I remain without speaking for long periods of time. I own a phone but it remains disconnected most of the time My communication with the world is via this venue and sometimes face to face when I have no choice but to venture out into the world at large Right now I am again in seclusion and words do not pass my lips it hurts to speak or it feels unnecessary or it just is too much noise in an all ready noisy situation called life. Cacophony I have used up all my collect calls Open lines are short and to the point My ears receive My eyes receive It is only my mouth that is shut off Still, silence breathes in for me when words have and are failing. Slicha.

Psalms Chapter 126 A Song of Ascents. When the LORD brought back those that returned to Zion, we were like unto them that dream. Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing; then said they among the nations: 'The LORD hath done great things with these.' The LORD hath done great things with us; we are rejoiced. Turn our captivity, O LORD, as the streams in the dry land. They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. Though he goeth on his way weeping that beareth the measure of seed, he shall come home with joy, bearing his sheaves.

"You expected much, but see, it turned out to be little. What you brought home, I blew away. Why?" declares the LORD Almighty. "Because of my house, which remains a ruin, while each of you is busy with his own house." Haggai 1:9

Moving through the dashes specks and commas thick but small, breathing spaces between the letters and lines Here a knot there a dot in between a punch to stop exhalation landmarks entwined with landmines The oomph and the bombastic the words to fly by to chug up a ladder with and slide down a chute from Mix and shift, toss and pitch juggle them see where they land - the groans within syllables - each a spurt of last days sighings Here now - dust tomorrow they speak volumes of wobbling and flight crashing and clawing The innards of a life meanderings soft boiled hard and hardy escaping the flash pan with a question mark Bobbing near the i like a life saver or a fish hook whichever happens to be its reflection.