This morning during the recital of Hallel - praise - for Rosh Chodesh - the new month celebration - I thought about the words "I call to G-d from the straights and he answers me with divine breadth" (my translation.) It dawned on me that what seems narrow to us does not seem that way to G-d. So He answers us, but from a place of truth, where our pain is wide and comfortable. It's kind of like the joke about how long a million years and how much a million dollars are to G-d.

We quote King David's words, "this is the day G-d made, let us be joyful, and happy in it." Which day does this refer to? I think the answer is, every day. Every day is a day made by
G-d, worthy of celebration. I once bought a carton of eggs that mysteriously had this biblical quote printed on the inside of the top of the crate. I kept it.

Hallel is always meant to be sung with joy on happy occasions. But what is the celebration on Rosh Chodesh? Perhaps it is the idea of taking stock, appreciating a unit of time and celebrating it. Similar to Shabbos. Similar to Rosh HaShana. Similar to what we should do at the end of each day.

This morning during prayers I recalled an incident from first grade. A friend of my mother's was substituting, and took us to the playground. I was afraid to climb the ladder on the slide. But I was not afraid of the slide. Not sliding down it, and not climbing up it. So, even though one could argue that it is objectively more dangerous, and thus more worthy of fear, I would get to the top of the slide by climbing up the slide itself and then awkwardly. but carefully turning around and perching myself at the top before sliding right back down. (By the way, I'm talking about a time when the slide was all metal and the floor below was pavement.) To the substitute, T.R, it looked like I was being a daredevil. She told me to get down, just as she looked up from her intricate needlepoint and caught me in the middle of my ascent. I tried to expain, asked to be allowed to continue. She threatened to tell my mother if I didn't retreat at once. So I did.

I thought about this during davening this morning, as a phenomenon. I wonder if it happens to others too. Do you ever do something a certain way because it feels more right to you, but it ends up looking more wrong to everyone else? I don't sit during davening. I've never felt like claiming a seat. it felt pushy, uncomfortable, so instead, I pace up and down the isle, the only one doing so. Standing out?

Here's a haiku I wrote during the reading tonight, while the author was still a no name to me:

The beauty of her
Her reading is beautiful
Beautiful beauty

And here's one I wrote, right before I got off the train that took forever to get me to my parents for dinner yesterday.

Moments before I
will be late to meet parents
anxiety hurts