Days of Awe Poetry Workshop

Join me on Sunday, September 10!

Join me on Sunday, September 10 for a special 90-minute workshop that will help you turn inward as we approach the holiest time in the Jewish calendar year, the Days of Awe.

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For 10 days between Rosh Hashanah (the Jewish new year) and Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement), we have a powerful opportunity to reflect on where we missed the mark in the past, what amends we can offer and make, and who we want to be in the year to come.

Likewise, the period leading up to these holidays – the entire month of Elul – is a time of introspection and spiritual preparation.

This workshop will be held on Zoom and is open to anyone – Jews and non-Jews alike – who would like to carve out time to listen for that “still small voice” that so easily gets buried by the administration, noise, responsibilities, minutiae, and moving parts of everyday life.

Alone and together, we will consider what this season holds for us, and spend time writing, sharing, and witnessing each other with the awareness that we all miss the mark, and we all get the chance to begin again.

Details:
Sunday, September 10
12:00-1:30pm EST
Zoom
$99

Note: You do not have to consider yourself “religious” to participate.

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I wrote this poem yesterday while facilitating a similar workshop at my synagogue:

One thing I ask of HaShem is patience,
for I am a slow and sometimes
stubborn learner.

I ask of HaShem – I plead,
I walk on the gravel road
looking up at the billowy clouds
and I pray – is presence.
I ask HaShem, are you there
and wait for an answer.

HaShem tells me,
Of course I am here.
I am never not here.
I am that I am,
I am the sky above you,
the three dear leaping
through the dewy fields.

I am with you 
at 4:00am
when you lie awake,
frightened and full
of questions.

I am the hand on your belly,
the hand on your heart.
I am the hawk,
the warning, the battle cry
and the bandage 
over the wound.

One thing I ask of you,
HaShem says in return 
to my requests,
is faith.

You do not have to look so hard.
You do not have to strain your ears
or perfect your heart.
You do not have to earn 
my protection.
When you repent,
I believe you.
When you repair, 
I heal, too. 

One thing HaShem and I ask 
of each other 
is commitment. 
It is not a given –
and so all the more sacred
when we give it.

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