(the lentils). It is not possible; but there it is.
I have asked the help of St. Anthony, and also of Rebbe Meir Ba'al haNess: nothing doing.
I am reminded of the story of the sheiddim (demons) in the basement, who would work mischief in the house above where they lived.
At least, if it's them, the lentils haven't gone to waste.
The clinic determined to help me keep my brain had prescribed a session with a particular guide at a fitness studio. She is a delight, and we have many things to talk about.
And she woke my body up.
I know this is risky: my heart may waken too. I may plunge back into that place where missing my beloved is almost too painful to bear.
Or I might emerge from the fog in which I have lived these last years.
Hmm. Perhaps four years of fog is enough.