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.
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