Mercy Mercy Me

What words to use? I feel like saying something about a question that bothers me me; "What are you doing this summer?" A friend called me two summers ago and asked me to fill in for a week in sleep away camp so he could attend a conference in Israel. He said he asked me because I was the only one he knew "not doing anything" for the summer.

Is that possible - not doing anything? Traditional Jews ( a loaded term, but I mean no harm)spend a good hour and a half a day praying, even on days when there's no college credit, no paycheck. It's sad that this is not considered a credible activity. Then there's showing a pleasant countenance and then going further and being actively mindful and kind. There's always thinking, and learning, or at least there should be. Make you're own list. Whoever you are,you are never doing nothing. Even if you are a teacher. Even in the summer.

Entering the library a moment ago a colleague asked The Question. He meant no harm. I've taken to answering by saying that I'm writing a book. I'm always writing a book. You're reading part of it now. I you meet me, you're experiencing a chapter. People like the image of a publisher and a space on a shelf in a store; the image of a real book.

There are follow up questions. What kind of book? Who's putting it out? I have several books in mind. There are essays that I've written on every parsha that I'd really like to make into a book. I'm thinking of binding it and giving it out. If you want to help, let me know. I already have one volunteer. Then there's the poetry. Do haiku get their own page? That's the foremost question on my mind. Rabbi Dovid Ebner feels strongly about my putting out a poetry book. He self-published his second book with no shame and for little money. This is actually something I want to do. May G-d bless me to make it so.

I am less tired than yesterday, but just as hungry. My creative writing teacher, Jennifer Natalya Fink, is a big fan of writing under naturally altered states, such as tiredness. When she told this to our class she had an ear infection and was enjoying writing with that weird feeling that permeates one's whole body unique to an ear infection.

Yesterday I bumped into a friend who had been talking with her cleaning lady from the Philippines earlier in the day. The Philippines woman said that in America no-one is poor, as far as she has seen. The poor she has seen eat and live. But in her home country that is not so.

In The Border Of Truth the main character looks at her life long housekeeper from a foreign land and realizes she has a story. Everyone has a story. Even people who hate stories.

When the word story get a bad rap? When did it become equated with something unsophisticated? For some of us it never did.

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If we'd pay more attention

we'd start to wonder, maybe;

if we really want

what we pray for.

We ask and we ask

but then do we follow through

that is the question

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My Paradox

If I keep you out

Then you may never get in

Even when I want

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Holy Shliach Tzibbur

He turns and looks back

With his patient expression

Then asks G-d for help

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Olam Hafuch

Real slow and steady

They say wins the race

It wins the real race

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Manifold

Mercy, mercy me

Mercy; what I need from Thee

Mercifully please

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