This rhythmic school of work and rest has found me a difficult student. But Israel persists.
She instructs. Her patterns of sound and silence are becoming familiar, even comfortable, after living through five Sabbaths and a Passover week. The hue of the outside world is different on Shabbat and Pesach. It is a paler blue outside. Sounds of the quieter things like roof top doves and skinny alley cats are more easily heard. The muted beat is recognizable. Like hearing the distance echoes of a babe-in-the-womb’s heartbeat, the love is immediate and yet a bit overwhelming.
In this seesaw of Israeli life, discovery is a gift.
We’ve walked a lot this shut-down week. We watched. We listened.
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