Returned to say
May you find the moon...
or her sister
Love,
Lizzy
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I.5
‘Let me rest,’ he cried from the panic at the top of his heap of days. ‘Let me rest on the day of rest,’ he entreated from the throne of unemployment. ‘This king is heavy in my arms, I can’t hold up the Pharaoh any more.’ He fastened his collar to the darkness so he couldn’t breathe, and he opened the book in anger to make his payment to the law. An angel, who had no intrinsic authority, said, ‘You have sealed every gate but this one; therefore, here is a little light commensurate with your little courage.’ His shame climbed up itself to find a height from which to spill. Then there was a sweeter saying in a stiller voice: ‘I do not put my trust in man, nor do I place reliance on an angel.’ Immediately the Torah sang to him, and touched his hair, and for a moment, as a gift to serve his oldest memory, he wore the weightless crown, the crown that lifts the weight away, he wore it till his heart could say, ‘How precious is the heritage!’ The crown that leaps up from the letters, a crown like dew that gives the grass to drink beads out of the darkness, the mother’s kiss as the beginning of the war, the father’s hand that lets the forehead shine, the crown that raises up no man a king above his company. ‘Lead me deep into your Sabbath, let me sit beneath the mighty ones whom you have crowned forever, and let me study how they rest.’
‘Let me rest,’ he cried from the panic at the top of his heap of days. ‘Let me rest on the day of rest,’ he entreated from the throne of unemployment.
I have a very superficial knowledge of the matter but even by dipping into the many books, I have been deeply touched by what I read, and by my conversations with living Hasidic masters. The model of the Tree of Life and the activities and interactions of the sephirot has been especially influential.
The crown that leaps up from the letters, a crown like dew that gives the grass to drink beads out of the darkness, the mother’s kiss as the beginning of the war, the father’s hand that lets the forehead shine
An angel, who had no intrinsic authority, said, ‘You have sealed every gate but this one; therefore, here is a little light commensurate with your little courage.’
He fastened his collar to the darkness so he couldn’t breathe, and he opened the book in anger to make his payment to the law. An angel, who had no intrinsic authority, said, ‘You have sealed every gate but this one; therefore, here is a little light commensurate with your little courage.’ His shame climbed up itself to find a height from which to spill.
all kinds of openings – windows, doors, cracks – figure prominently in LC’s work. Sometimes they denote a way for viewing inside the soul, and that would be the religious aspect, but I’m sure a psychological one can also be suggested.
the crown that raises up no man a king above his company. ‘Lead me deep into your Sabbath, let me sit beneath the mighty ones whom you have crowned forever, and let me study how they rest.’
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