FISH THAT TALK AND WATER WAVES THAT SING

Bloated in the stomach a day after a Jewish Fast Day, like a bloated fish thrown up out of the waters upon the sandy shore, just rolling into the sand kicked by wave after wave, taking all the kicks as the water washes off the dirty sand, a fish out of water, coming back to life as his gills take in the O2 and he finds his habitat under the water again.

Seashells breaking under the weight of my feet as I stroll on the shoreline, crunching and cracking, being aware of every seashell, avoiding them so they stay as whole pieces, not cracked not destroyed.

Kicking and spinning rocks, polished and smooth, rocks with the wisdom of billions of years, as they age gracefully baking under a hot sun and dipping into cool waters.

Seeing a horizon out far away where the waters meet with the sky, seeing it obscured in a fog or on a dark night, knowing that the world does not end there, that it circles around as a ball, a horizon is deceptive not ending the world. A horizon that lifts up floating boats, that is a straight line from point A to point B, a place to wonder what comes next, to imagine there is more than what just meets the eye.

A seaside meditation made with the eyes closed, swaying to and fro in a canoe, waters seeping in but not drenching, not drowning, waters all held back by a controlled tide, waters to whet and moisten, waters that tell a story with every giggle of every wave.

Learning and teaching from nature, natural occurrences: fish that talk, water waves that sing.

In complete awe of it all, never needing more than the Old Man Of The Sea, sweetly singing my beloved Song of The Sea.

THE SONG OF THE SEA SUNG FROM THE WATER'S WAVES

Going today on a trip to the beach and seeing water waves change into formations of human forms as they each hit the beach with liveliness, with a living and breathing personage inside each water wave.

Seeing a head form out of the frothy foam of a water wave, opening its mouth and shouting to me as I walk on the sandy shore with my bare feet merging with the wave's frothy foam.

One by one, water wave by water wave, people come spilling onto the sand from the waves of this lake, each human person rolling out of the water wave and singing a song!

Singing the same song, all the persons knowing all the same words and singing them in unison, being able to agree on the same tonalities, same beat, and same lyrics.

This song becomes The Song of the Sea. And each water wave, one by one, has this beautiful sweet song on its lips, and the white foaminess atop each wave carries a fluency, a sound that everyone hears and everyone follows along in its beat.

As we tap our toes in the sand, the water cleans our feet and causes music where there was none, music for all to dance to, where there was deafening silence comes forth cymbal-clanging, hand clapping musical concerts.

Waves like people, singing a voice of a new generation, a generation with an ancestry as old as a polished rock in the water, maybe dating back billions of years, but united in this same song, a billion year old song, is the song we are all singing today.

The Torah is a song like this, an old song we never tire of. A song that in its agedness has the wisdom to guide us in all things we do now, today, and eternally.

From my pursed lips, The Torah sweetly sings its own song.

DANCING ON THE BEACH WITH MIRIAM TO TIMBRELS THE WHOLE NIGHT LONG

Long walks in the frigid air passing through my ears as G-d's whispers, penetrating through winter scarves curled around my neck and head like a prayer shawl, an athlete's towel over his head as he is lifting weights, concentrating on muscle building but in privacy. Winds picking up and blowing the scarf, iciness on my neck, coolness, mistiness from the cold waters circulating around my head.

Walking further and further and getting a charge like a bull charging forward as my legs lift me over mounds of beach sand, moist and packed down, fitting into the curvature of my feet, digging down deep with my heels poking into the sands firmly with each step.

Further burying rocks and seashells into the sands, cracking them under my weight, listening to snap crackle and pop as I dance away from the waves so they do not wet me.

Holding a cape from a bull fight to each wave, and each wave comes in but misses me, keeping dry with water everywhere, all around me, vapors of hydration into my lungs as I take deep breaths, and blowing it out rhythmically as I step to my own music again and again.

Chanukah in my memory, still in my steps, still dancing with Miriam to timbrels the whole night long.

THE MIGHTY POWERFUL SEAS BENEATH MY BARE FEET

The sea was peaceful last night. I walked and walked along a long stretch of the beach avoiding the algae that is piling up on the shore, skipping over dead fish that are strewn out of the water as obstacles in my way, unburied. Kicking rocks, walking further and further than my usual strolls have been, seeing new sights, feeling the wonderment of a more vaster world. Opening doors to different perceptions, creating a larger space, still in safety.

Like a new babe that has relearned to walk, to take greater plunges to strengthen the calf muscles. Avoiding splashes from stray wilder water waves, walking in a specific direction. Looking always to the east no matter which direction I walk in. The east: where the sun rises and creates new ideas, a new day. An easterly direction, bowing and praying, but walking everywhere, seeing new things, being daring, brave, courageous, but always being back in time for dinner.

The seas I hope will always be there, not drying up, there will be a day again when it will rain, but I will be under a protective umbrella, and getting wet when I want to, it is my choice on how wet I want to be, whether drenched or just misted.

Water, water we have you now harnessed with dams, you are powerful but are still within our control.

Our defense system is working deflecting rockets, Israel, we will stand with you, forever.

BETRAYED AT THE BEACH

The water waves were rockier than usual last night, briskly walking but not on water, giving me a reason to hate him, betrayed by a landsman, splashed in the face, foaming at the mouth, frothiness with each successive water wave, like armies, schools of sharks all came to fight for me.

Angels in the night, dressed in all white, they believed my story, knew my hardships, were inside the belly of a whale with me and Jonah, thrown ashore to stay alive despite all odds that were against me.

Wondering why the mad pirate cannot trust me, how badly he was hurt, how he wants to hurt us back, how the water waves are dissolving his hatred and mistrust, how his beard is freezing in the night, how he is absorbed in his own folly, how he aches, how he did not get his way, how he is helpless in his fight against good, how good prevails, like a tidal wave to give water to the thirsty, to drown out his falsehoods, to send me afloat atop like a surfer, enjoying the beaches day after day, in darkness and in light, in summer and in winter.

Water for my safety, water for my upward climb, water to drown out he who tries to drown me.

HARBORING A GREAT OCEAN WITH CHANUKAH CANDLES

First glorious night and first day of Chanukah. Standing out on the sandy wet shores of The Great Lake Michigan with the first candle lighted and held high in hand and held above my head like a lantern, a light of brightness to shine in the darkness of the black seas, waving the flame back and forth in the night, a torch, as if guiding ships to a safe landing.

It was just me and G-d, just the two of us last night, and today it was the more the merrier. As a minyan at a worship service to worship the Almighty G-d, we lighted the one candle again in the daytime, we and the Rabbi chanted the Chanukah blessing and the Shehekianu, as the light spitted from small birthday-sized candles and our births as Jews were celebrated as Chanukah is a joyous occasion: births, weddings, singing and dancing!

Sugar cookies passed around decorated with sweet crystals of blue, red, and yellow to bite and enjoy with a sip of kosher grape juice. Schmoozing about our roots, it is a mitzvah to talk to a Rabbi. His long but neatly-trimmed white beard was not the beard of a Santa Claus, yet he came to us bearing great gifts: a dreidel, a box of cookies, chocolate gelt, and a smile with white teeth so wide it could have harbored a complete army of navy ships. But he was just one man. But his smile lighted up my inner spark of holy light, as did his candles, and my heart became warm and gracious, as I thanked G-d for all my clothes and all my kosher foods, devouring kosher corned beef, cabbage and small white potatoes after the Rabbi left. As always, I chanted the Blessings Before And After Eating, even more thankful because the Rabbi came to see us.

The second candle will be lighted again tonight, not to guide in the ships at the harbor, but to warm the hearts of all who will see it upon a sandy shore, the billions of fish in the ocean, and just me and G-d, the two of us, becoming one. Becoming Echad. Then the one becoming ten, a mighty minyan at a Jewish worship service, a battalion of warriors like the Maccabees against the Assyrian Greeks, a small army of Jews, who fought evil to keep the peace, and peace it was and shall be, as we see the candles flicker chasing away the gloominess of darkness. Shalom is peace, Chanukah is peace. It is all about peace. Light is peace.

A WINTRY AFTERNOON WITH SEA WATER

Hearing the song of angels in water waves, as they continually caress the sandy shore with their frothy fingertips, white foam like angels' wings, saturating, cooling, bringing peace to all who hear it, a constant rhythm, like the brushing sound of one's palm on the tight skin of a drumhead.

Walking along a familiar shoreline, wear I walk everyday, finding new seashells, new smoothly polished rocks, holding them in my hands and rubbing them to feel the awesomeness of their billion year old age. Putting them in my pockets to take them out to rub them again, good omens, rocks as old friends.

Children's playgrounds at the beaches, swing sets, playground equipment of ladders and slides, chairs for the parents to sit and watch their kids.

Dried autumn leaves have fallen off trees, each fall being an act of G-d who has jostled the tree branch with a breeze. Fallen leaves soft on the ground as a carpet where children can step in cushion.

Every time a leaf falls, G-d has caused it. Each leaf on the ground is there because G-d has put it there. G-d is everywhere, as the fallen leaves are everywhere in a signature reminding us of our Covenant with Him.

To always treat your loved ones kindly, to love your neighbor as His hand in our breeze has loved every leaf on the trees, gently, softly, kindly guiding them to the ground as paths that lead us to spiritual growth.

Crunching these leaves underfoot, kicking up dried golden sand, humming Hebrew chanting on our tongues to the sound of the instrumentals of the moving lake water.

Always in music, always in song, and dancing.