Shabbat Shalom Y'All

1:01 PM - 3 classes, one guidance/mentoring meeting, paperwork, and, and and... Now, I sit in my office.

1:06 PM - Just returned a call to someone. This someone wants something and feels like they're not so straight up and straight forward.

Earlier this week I had the pleasure of speaking briefly with Rabbi David Ebner when he visited my school. Wow. There are not many rabbis who appreciate poetry for real. He does. I asked him if there was a third book on the way. He said that he is writing new poems and yet can't comment on when or if they will be shared in a book. Then he quoted Galway Kinnel's poem title, "There are things I tell only to the poem." That was to me a wow, as is the case with much of what Rabbi Ebner says. When he talks I listen. When he talks I google. I searched for that poem, but it's not available on line - unless you subscribe to Harper's. I looked into Kennel. Here's an interesting quote from him:

“We’re all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems—the ones that make you truly who you are—that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person—someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, “This is the problem I want to have.”

I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.

Let our scars fall in love.”

― Galway Kinnell

4:02 PM - Just walked over my threshold and here I am. Home. A colleague asked me on the way out if I could believe that it's only been a week since vacation. I thought he was mistaken.

Here's a poem I wrote late last night:

12:58 A.M. 

How do we think of the things we do?

How much of it’s G-d, how much is you?

It’s a spectacular curiosity - this writing thing

Words change things unexpectedly, like an engagement ring

Do we select our thoughts, or are they divine?

I guess it’s complicated like an electromagnetic delay line

Are some things imponderable, can’t be figured out?

Are there phantom, eternal disciplines no text book exists about?

I want to discover the answers to peace and love and hate

But I’d best go to sleep, so I don’t add to the unemployment rate 

4:24 PM - Soon Shabbos, and with her the fleeing of the week, the sinking of sorrow, the blossoming of joy, a second soul for everyone, a melody which enters the kishkas, and and and and and and and.