SPLASHING IN AN ICY LAKE

Running across the shoreline on a sandy beach, jumping into the freezing waters and splashing the wetness onto your face with open palms tingling the skin and refreshing the body, invigorating the heartbeat, coldness to awaken Sleeping Beauty from her long dreamy sleep. Rip Van Winkle slept for 100 years until he splashed on this precious natural chlorine-less water that fell from the sky into a lake basin below, water like manna falling from the heavens, chilling temperatures causing it to be a stimulant, witch's hazel smeared onto the cheeks, clean water without soap moistening the eyes, a beach that is a second heaven, a lake of water that anoints sinners and makes them pure again.

Freezing ice blocks forming at the lake's edge, stomping onto them crushing them and digging holes in them with the heel of your boot, breaking off a piece of ice and sailing on it out towards the middle of the lake, an island in a vast expanse of cold water, pitching a white flag of surrender into the center of the ice, surrendering up all attempts to get back to shore, sailing on a journey to wherever it takes you, far out into the middle of the lake, one man, one block of ice, with water all around him, then paddling back to shore, a story, a fable to share, an adventure of a cold winter morning, all imagined as you never left the shore, it was all in your dreams all in your head.

Feeling renewed, waters providing a natural mikvah, putting thoughts of loving-kindness into the brain that were not there before, thinking new refreshing stimulated thoughts sprinkled and purified with holy icy pure lake water.

TRUMPETING LOUDLY OVER LAKE WATERS

"On the day of your joy, on your holidays and on the heads of your months you shall blow with trumpets"—Numbers 10:10.

"We are commanded to blow trumpets while the sacrifices offered on special dates were being offered in the Holy Temple. We are also commanded to blow trumpets during times of distress, to accompany our prayer to G‑d." [Chabad.org]

Screaming seagulls diving into a fish filled sea, trumpeting a call of the wild from their beaks, screeching like a trumpet, a horn of plenty, as they kill their lunch.

Standing over a lakeside sea of waters rushing in and like a trumpet blowing out of your windpipes sounding "Shekinah!" with high soprano notes over the shoreline of waters, calling loudly as in a roaring blaze like lightening and fire over the seashores, "Shekinah!" the soft soothing name of the female counterpart of G-d.

Blowing out of your lungs like a horn of a ram, like a shofar, a golden metal trumpeter, sliding your fingers along its pedals, hoarse at first, then clearing your lungs with a loud cough that sounds like music as it flows through the winding pipes of the golden trumpet, music to warn or to calm, to say what you cannot say using words.

A trumpet that plays music with every sound being a shout of a Hebrew alphabet letter, a holy word in great gasps from The Torah that sounds in gaiety and joyousness of the worship of the holy almighty Elohim G-d.

A TREE OF LIFE ON TU B' SHEVAT

“It is a tree of life to all those who hold on to it, and those who support it are blessed.” [Torah]

Gingko trees surrounding sandy seashores spilling fan-shaped yellow leaves onto the ground in autumn and dropping orange candy-like berries onto the ground to squish with the soles of your shoes, swaying in the winds at a playground where children play after jumping in the lake and wetting their swimsuits.

Trees of grandeur and delicacy, winding branches like arms of a Chanukah menorah, reaching upwards towards the heavens as do the arms of man when he lifts the Torah Scroll higher and higher with a firm grip.

Gingko trees that welcome the songs of children and their laughter after eating a good kosher meal.

A tree that shades your eyes from the fierce sandy seashore sunrays, its leaves like sunglasses letting in only a shadow that guards your eyes from too much otherwise blinding light.

Tu B' Shevat, a holy day holiday that represents the deepness of the roots of the trees as the Gingko trees' network of winding roots beneath its trunk, roots of a family and the genes and DNA of your ancestors, still growing deep into the ground with richness to support the strong tree branches like the mighty arms of G-d that grow above your head.

Eating the nutrients of nuts and fruits, drinking both the red and white wines, having a cup of hot tea.

Letting the upwards growth of a blessed tree stretch your thoughts highly above the dusty ground into an upright climb towards improvement. To study the Torah and have it be your tree, a guide towards spiritual improvement that with daily study occurs everyday.

SHABBAT AT THE SEASHORE

[On Friday, Moses told the people,] “Tomorrow will be a day of rest, a holy Sabbath unto G-d.” Exodus 16:23."

Sitting on the dock of the bay, water coming in slowly surrounding your bare feet with its spa-like effect, resting on the sands, soaking up sunlight, a beach that was created by G-d for you to spend on it taking in the restfulness of Shabbat.

A Day of Rest, a time to take off and stop creating, stop cooking, stop lighting lights, resting on a couch, putting one's feet up, taking the load off your feet, sitting and thinking in an easy chair, resting one's muscles in a soft bed, laying on the sands of a wet beach, taking it easy, having a date with your couch, at time to pray, eat, drink, and be merry.

A Shabbat rest, a holiday which is a holy day, that comes once a week, regularly, predictably, often, usually. 

A time to remember things that you will not do, instead to do activities that bring you rest and peace.

A Shabbat rest that rejuvenates the body, heart and mind.

Preparing for a rest, taking care of business on Friday so it ceases on Saturday.

Having all good intentions coming forth in your actions due to a body and mind that is reborn, is given a second life, a second chance to do what seemed impossible to do when you were stressed. Taking away all stress, removing all sense of the burdens of responsibility that you feel during the weekdays.

A time to daven, to study Torah, to eat plenty at a Kiddush, to toast with your friends, to take it all in stride, to heal from the past week's difficulties. 

A time to cherish, a time to sing, a time that extends your life so you can work again next week.

Water waves pouring in one by one on a beach of satisfaction, a place where all the fish are fed, on a Saturday, on the Day of Rest, watching the tide come in and thanking G-d for having peace.

A SEA OF SAMENESS AND SAFETY

 

A place of safety, guarded regularly walking in big black boots with a Star of David on his chest, back and forth in army boots, quickly scanty-eyed with several video screens viewing vastness, cameras containing film, fun films at the theater shown to confuse to control to comprehend the uncomprehending, one fire door and only one exit, staying home to watch TV instead.

Roofs made of thick wood rain not coming down in torrents, snow lifted and melted not freezing my cold hands.

Shingles one over the other of a sickly green color, surrounding a chimney that blows out smoke but not ashes, clean air clean water, heated homes and full crowded dinner tables always filled with cooked and served food.

Warm clothing, fur hats that tie under the chin, windy gusts not blowing through, ears covered while walking dogs that jump into a cold lake splashing water and breaking ice.

Legs continually pounding on a wet sand on a shoreline stretching the muscles keeping in shape.

A daily routine of the obvious, in a safe place while safely marching with the team that is winning, an army that always wins, warriors that do not need to fight.

TO SEE, SMELL, HEAR, AND TOUCH LIVING LAKE WATER

Seeing vast expanses of royal blueness, then changing to gorgeous greenness, animal algae in the water, sparkling seas shining sunlight like valuable jewels on the water's rich clear surface, watching hungry seagulls taking deep dives into the water and bringing forth fish for their lunches, seeing gritty moist sands with sand dust blowing, looking at sharp tall dune grass that stays green all year round.

There are happy people running on the sandy shores to get recreational exercise, walking their dogs, and children playing gleefully on playground equipment. Watching happy children swinging and singing. Seeing bold bright sunshine lighting up all things to bring forth the form and color of all things, and therefore cheer to my view.

Seeing a park and a lake in which to swim, a lake to take a holy mikvah, fresh fish-filled waters, frothiness in waves as they come forth in unison onto the wanting thirsty shore, seeing all these living things, life created by water, water satisfying thirsts, giving plants their refreshment, and fish their habitat.

Smelling the freshness as it perfumes the air of the beach park area, tree leaves and water smells, smells of fish strong and pungent, dead fish as corpses, living fish as potential food, a lake full of fish.

Smelling the lettuce-like green algae brushed up onto to the sandy shoreline of living organisms, life everywhere, smelling living things, breathing in huge gasps of oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide, filling my sniffing nose and my heaving lungs.

Hearing Israel prayers in all things, as listening to insects buzzing, the sounds of a sea as it wave after wave moves and jostles the sands.

Rushing sounds, sounds like breathing, sounds of a jittery moving lake a lake of life, a lake that is massively humungous in its size.

Listening for seagulls cry and hearing them swoop and flit and beat their wings, cawing at each other in bird talk, strutting their webbed feet on the shore.

Children singing camp songs in the background, singing as they build and then destroy creative sandcastles, laughing and then screaming as they delight in a fulfillment of all their senses, as they see, hear, smell and touch.

Touching the moist salty grains of sands with the upturned palms of one's hands. Molding it like a ceramist molds clay, feeling its roughness and its warmth as it stores the heat of the sun.

Feeling the cool water on one's feet in a walk on the beach, soothing wet and washing, it cleans in between one's toes, and splashes refreshingly onto one's bare skin, a feeling of becoming pure in pure water, all of one's ills washed away and dissolved not to cause evil intentions, to become clean and good hearted in a lake of sea water that is natural water.

Water that spills from the skies onto the lake, bohu and tohu, it unites as one, and is the water created by one G-d, The G-d Almighty. "G-d made the land and the seas, and saw that it was good." [Genesis, Torah]

NIMBLE FINGERS MUSICAL HANDS OF HEALING

Not at the seashore on a wintry day, the cold blasts of wind fly off the surface of the lake water and chill the body as in an electric freezer, a storage container to freeze fresh meat. The sandy surface of the lakeshore grits under one's feet, sticking to the tread of the soles of the shoes, wet, thick, bunching up like piles of dust to be brushed off to have clean shoes again.

The freezing draft sails through one's scarf and hat, windy like a song of cutting coldness, not thriving on discomfort, needing positive attention, not the brutality of causing coldness to the body.

Pulling one's scarf tighter around the cheeks, cold cheeks, freezing cheeks, red as if pinched like the cheeks of a Scandinavian dancer, a blonde with rosy cheeks. Fiery red cheeks, high cheek bones like an American Indian, tribal face make-up it is not, the trace of color caused by searing cold winds, it is.

Rough hands, stuffed in gloves, cold weather rashes smoothed and cured by healing lotions, moisture conditioning the skin, a concealment of skin pores to not enflame in redness and itchiness, hands to stay gentle and active as we work with our hands, to keep us productive.

Hebrew hand washing blessings chanted to keep purified paws, fingers without germs, active hands and purified fingertips, nails well-trimmed, a writer's tool is in his hands, typing words to talk.

Brainstorming in a winter storm always having something to say, to heal, to cure, to be of some help.

Hashiveinu Adonai! which in English is translated as "Help us G-d!"

Nimble fingers on a piano keyboard, music to dance, to sing, to praise G-d, to thank G-d, and so this is how we are to be healed, to be happy and content, to love and to be loved by G-d.

GOD ALMIGHTY KING OF THE SEAS, EARTH, AIR AND SKY

Having the oceans and seas as a sanctuary, combining the beat of the rhythmical waves with the beat of my heart, hearing one beat and then the other, in unison, together. Watching the waves beat in and pummel the sandy shore, as they creep up to my feet, wanting to get closer and closer to cleanse me. Cherishing every moment in unison with these water waves, bowing towards the east, as lake waters are in an easterly direction, bowing to each wave, as if they are the mighty hands and arms of G-d, reaching towards me, beckoning at me, flowing their peace into my veins as my heart adjusts to their beat.

One heart beat, one wave beat, one heart beat, one wave beat, breathing together with the water waves as they crash in, sometimes more actively than at other times. The seas parting in the middle to allow the Hebrews to walk safely to the Promised Land, massive walls of water like vaults on each side of them, suddenly loosening to drown the Egyptians after the Hebrews were in safety.

Worshipping G-d as He is the G-d of the seas, as well as the G-d Who commands all the lands, His peace that can be felt in each gentle flipping of frothiness that sits on top of a water wave. Like whipped cream on a cake, it is a surfer's delight.

Transferring the peace of the seas to one's own heart, each one beating simultaneously, as one, as one G-d, the Almighty G-d, King of all the seas, earth, air and sky.

FROZEN WATERS AND ICE CAPS

Frozen sand like tundra, mounds of ice cold sand sticking together as a hard firm ground, sand not blowing around, waters frozen sands frozen. Ice caps in water, floating, crashing into the shore, wind picking up and waves growing higher and higher, tearing against each other, against a hard blocky shore.

Water's frozen, no skinny-dipping, chilled like Jello, a large massive body of water as a lake, an extension of it as a creek, flooding from the Mississippi River, boats to take survivors to shore.

Freezing nose and face, covered with a warm scarf over the nose, inhaling salted sea air, freezing the nostrils, dripping, cold air to move the body faster, invigorating and stimulating, walking faster to keep warm.

Water inside the body, filtered water, drinking water, clean water, chlorinated water, water to whet the lips, to cool the throat, to splash on one's face to wake up, natural sea water, pure water.

Pouring water from a separate vessel onto one's hands, one hand and then another, praying, washing like a beaver, cleaning one's paws, making it a holy experience, water inside and outside, water from above and water from below, waters merged into one.

One is echad, one is our G-d.