Counting the Omer: Day 47


Text:
Day 47
i was sitting in my garden watching seedlings grow _planning for future harvests_counting weeds
waiting
waiting
i’m tired today but not too tired. and i’m not in much pain. so i was sitting this morning, cool and dry, perfect socal morning. as i sat i thought of this omer journey, almost completed, only three days left. today is hod (theory, order, splendor) in malchut (kingdom, sovereignty, grounding) and it occurred to me that i should begin to reflect on the journey, what better day to begin than on the day of theory in grounding. sometimes i find myself on time with a divine calendar, sometimes.
but I don’t know_where am I? _where am I going? _what are these daily ramblings providing? _what does my blog look like as I go back to daily life without the omer journal?
i am still sick and poor. i have yet to join plowshares with other who find themselves likewise, trapped under the wheel of this huge machine. i am still a prisoner of illness and distance. i perhaps have a greater understanding of purpose and direction. but i don’t know if i can make the journey, if the work will come, the money, or other sources of sustenance to provide. i have long discarded middle class mythology: “do what you love the money will follow.” it doesn’t if one makes choices that don’t feed the machine.
i am aware of the death machine and the war me must wage against it. i am aware of the walls of time, of space, of money, of distance, of brick and mortar that stand between us. i no longer pray, and on the rare occasion that i utter words to the heavens, i don’t expect an answer. i expect more from tomato seeds. they respond to me. prayer is for those with money and power so they can convince themselves it was pray and not brutality and bribery that served their interests.
i listen to wind and plants and water; growing things.i’m grateful for fresh bread and tomatoes, cucumbers, homemade soap. i have learned to wait; for the ability to walk, for strength, for change, for love for hope. i can wait forever, forever. i who used to be so impatient; i can wait.
and i mourn for all that is lost, all that is dying around us; hope against the thunderclouds; the impending storm of bombs, bulldozers and the knock on the door.
i am no longer surprised or disillusioned. i know the system doesn’t work. i know my phone is tapped. i know i have no secrets from those who wish to do me harm.
each breath is manifesto
INHALE!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s