THE SERENITY OF SLEEPING ON THE BEACH

Splashed. Submerged. Water, water, everywhere, kicking the waves as they roll on in, seeing sand circulating in each water wave being stirred up, Supreme Court nominees on our side, water purer than ever before, storms that are approaching unite the tohu with the bohu, steam to be rising from the lake on hot summer months, cooling down after a dip.

Mikvah waters, natural waters, a way to replenish, to clean off dirt, to find a reason to smile again, waters all around your body, waters in your body no dehydration, filled, floating not drowning, same waters everyday, same tides coming in, a lake that lives, fish swimming and seagulls diving.

Children's playground in the beach park, kids swinging on swings, dancing beneath Gingko trees with leaves like fans, sliding down slides, laughter and singing. Children of diverse backgrounds all playing together, mothers and fathers enjoying the joyousness of their children, their differences and similarities, feeling in good health, good cheer.

Birthday parties to celebrate, children getting older becoming adults, balloons that fly freely in a rainbow of colors, eating ice cream at the beach, buying a bar from a vendor's cart, sitting beneath sun umbrellas, getting sandy all over, clear waters wishfully washing it all away.

Springtime, summertime, time at the beach, time in the lake waters, time to go fishing, boating, sunning yourself and tanning your body a beige color. Absorbing vitamin D from the sunlight, having a good joyous mood from all the lightness, a warm feeling on the skin, soothingly, breathing easy.

Being rocked to sleep with a lullaby sung by the lake waters, as each wave says "hush" like as we pray the Shema with a quiet peaceful SH sound, and we fall asleep under a new Rosh Chodesh moon, on a beach blanket, rocked back and forth in a boat as in a cradle, a rocking chair, smoothness and serenity.

Hushing yourself to sleep, and dreaming of more vacations at the beach.

PEACE AND THE GREENNESS OF THE RIVERS ON ST. PATRICK'S DAY

Greenness, the color of lake waves a khaki green, green sea waves rolling in on a sandy seashore algae strewn covered with living organisms, a living sea with fish, waves picking up and rolling sand as it brushes up and cracks upon the shore.

Army green like khaki green, a fight to the finish, a soldier, a homeless vet.

Greenness on St. Pat's Day of March 17th, called "The wearing of the green." Uniting peoples, taking the color green and wearing it upon your body, feeling the growth of springtime, coloring your hamentaschen Purim cookie bread dough a green color, not to be assimilated, but to be friendly and to love your neighbor.

Greenness upon newly born fruit trees, plants that excrete and breathe out oxygen, new buds, lots of lettuce to feed the poor, gardens and bunnies nibbling at leaves, Monarch butterflies like symbols of G-d as they stretch their royal black and orange colored wings, flying freely, landing on green leaves, finding a place to rest.

Not to claim greenness as a symbol of what is yours and not theirs, sharing green, sharing lettuce leaves, the feeding of all the poor, eating a full leafy green salad, coloring the river green, singing and laughing, enjoying a holiday too, enjoying the uniting of the color green with the color blue, darker colors of green like sage green.

To study the sages, to be wise like a sage, to be agreeable and to enjoy the color green and to like the color sage green. To listen to our sages who taught us to keep the peace, to worship one holy G-d, to know that our one almighty G-d of Abraham and Sarah created the color green.

BE HAPPY IT'S THE MONTH OF ADAR II

On Rosh Chodesh Adar II we celebrate another new moon peeking itself out of the clouds, as a silver sliver of lightness, to gently guide our way as we walk in the not-so-dark night in a warmer springtime, a new season, a season of happiness.

We are now in a time when we as Jewish women can celebrate Bat Mitzvot at the Wailing Wall, having full legal rights for women to worship with an open Torah. Truly a time to be happy for that!

Singing out of a Torah, both men and women, celebrating Rosh Chodesh, a holiday that specifically honors the female element, the new moon representing women, as opposed to a sun and solar calendar that represents only men.

The Jewish lunar calendar being a calendar of the moon, new moons and full moons, a calendar representing women, brave women like Esther who leads the springtime with the holiday of Purim.

A gentle loving way to start each new month, a new moon, a new birth, the creation of new children, new generation after generation, new month after month, with women as our creators, as G-d was the Creator of the world.

And it is on Rosh Chodesh that we celebrate the feminine, we as creators, G-d as Creator, birth as a way to renew, to come clean of the past, to forgive and be forgiven, to have a new outlook, a new attitude, a second chance.

Water, the oceans and the lakes, that are full of living fish also represent the feminine. The beauty of the new moon, on a new month, at the beach with waters, with living water. This water that dissolves the evil and cleans it, bringing a new life to the old, this newness to celebrate creation and the continuation of the Jewish people whose Torah honors women equally to men.

Celebrating Rosh Chodesh with sweet soprano singing voices in an egalitarian minyan on Rosh Chodesh! A beautiful way to honor our female element, with a new month and a new moon, a new song, and a new attitude.

This newness comes from the nurturing joy of our grandmothers, mothers, sisters, daughters. We as women who keep our families strong and together, having love being our central motivation to attain this family unity, a oneness, a one G-d as our G-d Almighty, a one love that is the greatest source of justice, justice being a creation from G-d, to keep men and women together as one united force, under one Almighty G-d.

Adar is indeed the month of true happiness! Being happy about a new season of springtime, and being happy and thanking one Almighty G-d that we were born women!

LAKE WATERS REFRESHING AND CLEANSING

Spending weekends and Shabbats on a seashore, watching peaceful calm water lake waves flow in on a sandy beach, sitting in warm sand, watching each wave one and then another, listening in Shema to each wave as it hums like a hummingbird, singing songs to you, chanting in a brushing low tone, waters singing tropes, cooing you to sleep like a baby, or in windier weather exciting you into stimulation, an excitement of seagulls and whipping waves, sinking deeper and deeper into the sand, like being at an orchestration of a symphony, each wave like another flute, another violin, another clap of the hands, warmer and warmer in the sun, singing to you, a voice that is greater than anyone's, a voice of HASHEM as He sings with the water, each sand grain dancing to the beat.

Sitting and enjoying it all, taking it all in, one deep breath after the other of a fresh sea water breeze, windiness that causes celebration and rejoicing, glad to be alive, so very glad to be at the beach.

Warmer weather on its way, bathing and swimming in warmer waters, jumping into waves as they splash upon your body, it is called a Great Lake and it is great because of its purity, purifying you, as the natural waters cleanse and coat you with an absence of hatred, having love in every drop of water, mineral water, waters that refresh, waters that cause you to love yourself and those around you. 

WATERDOGS PLAYING ON THE BEACH

Still a tough winter, not yet March, but with global warming on the beaches, winds whipping like the tails of dogs as they come up to lick your face, sitting on the sandy beaches with dogs everywhere, frolicking into the waters and getting wet: waterdogs.

Fighting dogs without a reason to bite, throwing him a bone, he will eat it and then not bite his owner. Smaller dogs wagging and jumping stretching leashes to break them, to have freedom, biting into the leather band as it surrounds their neck, chewing it, ripping it open, freedom, being home for dinner.

Dogs biting chew bones exercising their jaws like sharks they file their teeth sharper, thrown another bone, a toy, a time to play, to grip someone with sharper teeth.

Teeth filed still sharper, gripping bone toys, gripping his hand as he hands him his bone. Dogs pounding on sand and jumping into the lake to find a shark, gripping with his teeth, a dog's tooth and a shark's tooth, filed to a stony point.

Smiling whiter teeth and counting new teeth as they grow in your mouth, not missing a tooth, teeth sharp enough to bite and leave a hole, gaping, widely.

The joys of sitting in the sand to watch the dogs play and the sharks bite. A bullfight, gladiators, boxing, wrestling, football, a way to let off steam and to blow it all off on the beach in the sands while the wind blows on your head, not wearing a hat.

THE BEAUTY OF GOD REFLECTED IN LAKE WATER

Large open spaces rooms with large long walls and slicked varnished long slatted wooden floors, huge windows letting in lots of light beaming and brightening reflecting and lightening the soul and uplifting the heart, laughing chuckling drinking pitchers of iced water smeared on the lips never to eat the grapes of someone else's vineyard, getting the grapes that fall to the side, someone picking the grapes for you, always to be in grapes, never to be without. Purple and green, blue and white, crimson red that is not blood. Bloodless meats circulating through the body pumping the heart and tingling the muscles, unsalted potato chips, sweetness of a smile and not using chocolate. Being in the know even though you do not want to know, hearing someone laugh and being happy that they are happy.

Steadily eating another grape and turning purple as others turn green but not with envy. Using their greenness to grow more grapes and to bake more pies. Tapping a foot to the rhythm of a loom that is threading all the colors of the rainbow, having the rainbow in your backyard when its pot of gold accumulates and you do not need to spend it. Donating gold to the filling of her teeth as they fall out. Smiling larger and bigger as her teeth corrode and yours light up the lives of people who do not have light.

Lighting up a smile with a flame on a candle as you close your eyes and become surprised, having the lightness when others do not and showing it to them. Appreciating every tinge and warming your cold hands. Wishing, but not having wishes come true, because G-d calls the chips, tossing another coin in the well and wetting your lips with drinking water as you watch lake waves get rockier and wetter, hoping that everyone can take a dip and enjoy a swim.

Another Shabbat at the beach with the awe of G-d everywhere as He reflects His beauty in great lake water.

SOUNDING SEAS SWEETLY SMILING SINGING

Waves splashing, singing, shouting, seriously slapping wetter ferociously wildly in the wilderness. Dune grasses and mounds of sand stirred up like sloppy stone soup, sucking and sipping.

Supping on furious fishes from fast white water rapids, while catfish are becoming scarce and extinct.

Rolling, rocking on a boat, holding on securely, spitting up silver onto a shoreline, spending money you do not need.

Feeding fondly on fruit and fish deeply in your belly, unbuckling your belt and brushing up onto the beach.

Pirates lashing swords in black boots wringing necks of sea monsters, slashing out with forked tongues, bending, breaking, piercing, whispering words of wishful wonderment.

Dark green opaque sunglasses, hiding, mirrored lenses reflecting, secretly withholding eyes.

Having scrolls of ancient history highly hung overhead, interpreting age old print, hands pointed and fingers not touching the precious parchment.

Sea monsters' songs sprung from cesspools drowning him out because he tried to drown you. The Song of the Sea changes lives, wanting, wishing to live forever, swimming safely away.

Spreading pages of books, burning, as you are breathing, minds becoming heavier and heavier, thinking, brainstorming, thunder storming.

Writing on a page in your own book in a novel with a story of a war that you have won.

Hearing the sounds of clapping, clanging cymbals! Trumpets shrilly shouting! Becoming bugles, audible to all types of audiences.

Teaching toe touching, dance stepping. Tongues waggling, wiggling, singing songs soundly.

Punishing pain pushing away, vanishing, the broken becoming mended.

Mysterious music of the sea smiling at me, as beautiful today as she did yesterday.

THE POLISHED STONES ALONG THE SEASHORE

The awesomeness of great waves, easy going, one wave after the other, each wave letting a wave go before it, showing courtesy, one wave before and then one wave following, like an army of waves, causing soothing-ness coolness predictability, no one wave much bigger than the other, each wave basically the same, regularity, nothing upsetting the apple cart, no one wave to cause worry, each wave like the other in equality.

Each wave containing water, bringing up algae, to rejoice in these waves, to skip stones, to perfect a skill of skipping them, watching a stone smooth and polished skip several times over the waves before it dunks in the water and we lose it. There are more stones, more polished and more smooth stones, more opportunities to skip them and to perfect our skill even more.

Skipping stones everyday, skills becoming more and more perfected, more and more stones provided, larger and larger body of water, sunny days, greater more expansive amounts of grainy sandy shore, more and more time to have to devote to skipping stones, people watching as you skip them, cheering you on as your stone takes more skips than the stone you threw before, a game of skipping stones, becoming a livelihood of skipping stones. David skipping a stone into the forehead of Goliath, a stone that was only a pebble, changing history, a stone that was aimed in the right direction, and toppled a giant. A stone that saved a life and took a life.

Stone Soup, a soup made of stones, stones that are tossed into a soup pot and cooked up. Stones we eat and stones we throw into the sea, stones that are bricks of buildings as shelters, building homes out of stones. Stones for everything, stones for enjoyment and recreation, stones that teach us, stones that form our homes, stones in soup pots that we eat.

Having stones and therefore having it all.

NOT DROWNING IN A SEA OF FALSE FLATTERY

Flattery, false compliments urging, bringing out of oneself, laughing aloud not peaceably whispering, talking not listening, not learning, knowing nothing new, controlling conversations, speaking instead of learning instead of listening, inviting argumentation.

Opening up your suite of armor and attracting the entrance of a spear the splitting of an arrow. A discussion becoming a debate, what was good turning bad, saying things you do not mean, defending yourself, saying words attracting negative attention, not being agreed with, not having them on your side, being in a room with natural enemies, saying they are your friends, trying to cut down walls and open doors, doors slammed shut and walls not falling, no one agreeing, being with a team that does not work together, trying to say the last word, no one heard.

Thinking you have powers to split the sea instead getting wet and drowning. Watching the sea spilt by itself, not the one to split it, G-d doing the undoable. Talking to natural enemies and make them your friends, having the fear of spiritual awe, the almighty power of peace. Scaring the Egyptians into drowning in a sea when they thought they could swim, warriors whose bullets bounced back on themselves.

A state of flattery to encourage you to jump into waters that are higher than your head, knowing the fierceness of the waves and deepness of the sea, staying afloat in a boat as it peacefully passes the shoreline, not swimming against waves, against adversity, safe and swimming without diving, without breaking your neck.

Making the entire body of water your home and your friend, not giving up what you have, not being guided by a misleading shepherd, not being a sheep who is sheepish, causing a fish out of water, basking in the shade without needing a tree, water waves pouring in freely without causing a hole in the sand, not falling into up to your neck, not believing in someone's false flattery.

Keeping your sails firmly up against the wind and not being blown over, traveling in the boat around the world, not sinking, not flooding.

WINNING A FIGHT NEVER FOUGHT

"Anger will kill a fool."
- Job 5:2

Ferocious roaring sea water waves, crashing into rocks on a sandy shore wearing down the crags smoothing them, cushiony chairs to sit on these rocks becoming stone. An angry sea, one of fierce argument, adversity, waves like warriors, once was a splitting sea when each wave flew up forming a wall, swiftly, allowing us to pass between them unharmed, to drown the Egyptians as they were on the offense, to kill, to bring the Hebrews to freedom to the Promised Land. Each Egyptian warrior drowned in the caving in of the walls of the great green sea. An angry sea that killed them as fools.

Hollering, yelling, screaming, fighting, charging head on like a bull after a red cape, the heaving of one's chest full force frontal into a fight, slashing swinging swords, splitting narrow arrows from bending bows, intensely targeting another as an opposition, an apparent opponent.

Challenging, turning a discussion into a debate, throwing sticks and stones to hit a tense target, kicking jumping up and down, shifting and shouting and banging one's fists wildly against a wall, pounding against a table, unstable.

Glaring staring eyes meeting the eyes of another not giving up, zeroing in on the enemy, making a staunch statement, trying to win by causing him to lose, gambling but without luck.

But, so they say "Anger will kill a fool."

Slowing down one's heartbeat, walking the other way, turning around giving him your back, not responding to the challenge, holding your sense of peace deeply within yourself, averting your eyes looking down looking away.

Not yelling back, bridling your mouth, holding your arms from taking a swing, not forcing yourself, saying nothing in return, holding your own, whispering an internal mantra, skipping freely away happily, merrily.

Not getting entangled. Forgiving and forgetting. Not holding a grudge, feeling the tension in your chest escaping, breathing hot air out, diffusing, being a large full tight balloon losing air in a fizzle, fists unwinding, hands flowing freely to one's side.

Giving him the benefit of the doubt. One less enemy, one less battle, removing your suite of amour, hitting and bouncing off your shield.

Now putting your sword back in its sheathe.

Not angered, not killed, not a fool. Won a fight because it was never fought.

HAPPY SABBATH ON THE SEA

Shabbat at sunset approaching like a boat from the horizon of the lake, a Shabbat of "simcha" which is a special Shabbat of joyousness and comforting rest.

Watching the boats sail in towards the dock getting closer and closer as the sun makes its rounds and soon will be lower in the sky and becoming a purple, pink, and orange star, brightly burning like a Shabbat candle flame, flickering in the sea breeze, warming ice cold hands and bringing hope to me as I watch the flame burn down the wax, lower and lower, as the sun sets lower and lower.

Then, as if in a miracle, when there is no more light, no more candlelight or sunlight, my body lowers in reverence as it faces to the east, and I take a full bow to welcome the Shabbat Bride.

Welcoming Shabbat and its joyousness and great restful sensations as G-d's seventh day, a Day of Rest, a day when we stop creating, a day of prayer, a day when we are surrounded in a tallit of happiness and worship, a day made for me as a gift, a gift from G-d.

Happy Sabbath.

MIKVAH IN THE DEEP SEAS

Gusting out sweet song, spilling out words of Hebrew chesed [loving-kindness] as waves of water wash wonderfully onto the shore, smelling the algae and fish, filling up your lungs with the scent of the sea, whispering and then shouting, calling the seagulls to listen, seeing a wave with white froth slowly approaching and coming towards you, white bubbles like frosting on a cake, the coolness and the sweetness of the yellow butter tickling the tongue, a reward for a job well done.

Dancing as a surfer upon the waves, in a circular dance holding hands as each wave comes in and drowns your bare feet, as a ballet dancer avoiding the wetness, being submerged as you jump a Russian dance jump kick like a fiddler on the roof into the sea and submerge yourself into the depths of it.

Wetting all of one's body, saturating the skin and under the skin, getting wet between the toes, cleanness and pureness, sweet waters sugared with a block of wood, wood being paper, a scroll, a Torah inside the waters as a way to achieve respectfulness of all religions, to live and let live, to try to understand the differences, like different fish in the sea, all of sanctified separation, some with fins and some without, catfish to be thrown back into the sea, fish as foods, fish that cannot be eaten.

Riding high waves on surfboards, avoiding a splash, showing honor to all the fish of the sea as you glide on by, not in adversity, not to rock the boat.

Being pure in thoughts as well as actions as well as words. Having the gift of a mikvah to cure oneself of all ills.

A BOTTLE WITH A MESSAGE THROWN INTO THE SEA

Having pleasant memories of deceased loved ones before they die. A message scrunched and folded into a bottle and thrown into a deep green sea, seeing it floating but no one reaching out to pick it up.

Light green colored waters becoming blue as the day goes by and the sun sets. An Israeli blue and white flag flying half mast, remembering our loved ones now before they are dead, blowing them a kiss in the breeze over miles of sea water, sending them a message in a bottle.

Giving a helping hand, offering an elder a ride, pushing a wheelchair, singing out a song of sympathy to an elder who would rather be dead. Asking of her where will she be after death, and she replies "in your pocket always near to you always at your side."

As we bow low before our ancestors, always having them moments away in life or in death, a father or mother who never dies. A child who grows up with her mother and father always next to her by her side, on her side, fighting with her, with her side against all other sides, against all odds.

Not having a loss even when a loss is eminent, calling always to your guardian angel to sweeten your bitter waters, hoping she finds your message in a bottle, a bottle afloat to sweeten the seas with words as sweet as wine, with words of hope and words of love to those the deceased has left behind.

Floating, always floating, never adrift without a purpose, having a purpose to keep your deceased parents' love for your family alive.

Learning to swim, then learning to yacht, then finding an island in the seas where you can bask lazily in the sun, warm your skin and think thoughts of love for your loved ones whether in life or in death, a place to receive your message in your bottle and to read it aloud.

A message in a bottle that says "I love you always, whether in death or in life."

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.

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.