And

On the way to the Paramus government agency that provides free flu shots, my colleague, the school nurse Leah, turned to me and said, "You have ears." I got a boost from her comment, which in context was clearly not an anatomical observation.

My old friend Jeff once noticed that in The Shma, right after the verb shma comes the verb ve'ahavta. Listening leads to love. I'd like to add that before ve'ahavta comes Hashem echad. Listening leads to G-d.

I just wrote a diary entry that I will chop and stir and present here:

Having keen ears/eyes

what Monk calls a blessing/curse.

half hour pocket of time invested in the flu shot

infused with keen hearing reflected to me as a blessing.

pj
It's about eight and I'm recently home from a long day - (my friend Jeff, who I've been out of touch with, but thinking about a lot lately once replied when I told him I had a long day - "Neil, it wasnt longer or shorter than any other day.")

Six periods, a hundred plus souls, one visit from a department chair, unexpected coals exploded into beautiful fire under an external gaze - nehafochu.

Torah Guidance student says he's doing better - thank G-d. Others sat and learned with me about the sheish mitzvoth temidiot Another showed me a youtube clip of a bobov wedding that he was at Others bemoaned what the world, their world, is/could/should be.

Time was spun for a student who had a doctor's appointment last period. An extra class last period replaced the class that had an art presentation earlier in the day.

Two Chumash classes prepped for tests tomorrow. Wrote up and distributed a homework sheet for sole Gemorah class.

In my Chumash class that doesn't have a test tomorrow I had new company and nachas up front, a new day, new curiousity about why the Ramban says Bamidbar is about X and leaves out Y and Z.

In the class that met last period tired students shined and came up with fresh ideas, seeming to forget for the moment that there was a test tomorrow. I had a long bus ride home, during which I spoke to a dear friend and vented and used my ears too.

My friend shared a very young students' take on the dual images of sand and stars; when we're down and stepped on at the bottom of our game - we are like sand, when we're the beacons we are meant to be - we are like sky stars.

In the car (driven by an English department chair) to the bus I vented and listened too. On the walk from the bus I spoke to another dear friend/mentor. Now I'm home with my life waiting quietly for me.

This poem is, to me - remarkable.

The Psalm of Then
by Nicholas Samaras
j
Then, the Lord heard me in the wilderness of my soul.
Then, the lost place of me became clear.
Then, I recognized distraction for what it is.
Then, I was freed from the desert of diversion.
Then, I was moved to the green oasis within me.
Then, the still voice of the Lord was as the depth of water.
Then, I could cease the constant music in my head.
Then, I could move beyond myself and the noise of myself.
Then, I could hear the smallness of my own voice.
Then, the still voice of the Lord was as the depth of the water.

Then, the lost place of me became clear as a cascade.
Then, I could hear the bass of my name.
Then, I heard the Lord in the wilderness of my soul.
Then, stillness and stillness and stillness sang.

p

It reminds me of this one, which gets me every time:

;

After the still small voice

a noise

And after the noise,

a still small voice.

And after it, a noise.

And after it, a still small voice

And after the still small voice,

a noise.

Discard the rest.

~

Yehuda Amichai