The days of awe come exactly when they’re supposed to, launching with Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year, and ending with breaking fast on Yom Kippur, the day of repentance. This 10-day span is a time for soul-searching, forgiveness, and recognition of ways we need to make right what we’ve done, thought and been that was wrong in the last year. We land in this clearing in the woods, break in the crazy-making weather, sojourn to enough stillness to understand what’s always in motion.
As usual, the Jewish holidays creep up on me at a time that’s beyond overwhelming. In the past week, I’ve immersed ever fiber of my being in organizing/putting on with others on the Power of Words conference. My new book Chasing Weather was released, and I’m sorting through a tangle of emails to arrange readings. The dishes are piling up. Someone needs to take the cat litter out, and I’m busy with catching up on assorted things for my teaching at Goddard College job. There’s more going on, but my mind refuses to look full circle at all that occupies and will occupy me in this time. I also have a cold, persistent and fueled by too much adrenalin, too little sleep, questionable coffee to wake and pills to sleep, and bad food choices.
All of this makes the onset of Rosh Hashana feel like slamming on the breaks after a months-long road trip at 77 mph. It also makes it hard to summon up enthusiasm for even sorting out what to dress to synagogue tonight and practicing the cello to play alongside our musical service-leading group, Shiray Shabbat. So instead I write about it while admiring the banked-steel blue of the clouds, the twirling of Cottonwood leaves, and the cat sleeping on a pile of pillows. Breathe, life says. So I do, knowing it will take many breaths to unravel me from my worker-bee-on-high-alert mojo.
The days of awe come exactly on time, and in time, they will land me where I need to be also. Wishing everyone sweetness and peace as you’re inscribed in the book of life.