It is the day after hearing of Bernie Glassman roshi's death. (The world is not the same.)
And it is the day before the election must finish. (The world will not be quite the same; better,
Mishka the cat curls beside me on the desk, and pillows her head on the edge of the laptop. For her, I think, the world is pretty much the same.
I am praying like crazy. I have learned that trying to choreograph details on G-d's behalf is not the best way to go about it. Who knows how the greater good can come about? I pray for the result: please, G-d, let things get better. Let there be a return to civility, to deep ethics and morality, to tolerance and generosity of mind and heart. Open our hearts to hear Your instructions.
Mishka the cat snuggles her head up to the edge of the laptop and partly beneath my arm, quietly purring.
If I consider the etymologist Fabre D'Olivet, who put forth the theory that Hebrew words are made of overlapping BI-letter roots, then praying and purring are related, and perhaps (¿purrhaps?) I should quit kvetching, and PURR to the Ribono shel olam more...
On that thought, I will close this laptop, switch gears, and go upstairs.
Hearing my beloved: "Hartzeleh, sorg sach nisht; s'iz doh a Gott in der velt..."
("My dear, don't worry; there is still a G-d in the world.")