. . . this sister is just a stand in for anyone who also feels close to G-d, but in a different way. Maybe it's that internal-soul-female thing that's come up here before.
Someone who prays out of habit
Someone who prays from the need for it
Someone who reads and says, so it is written
Someone who reads and challenges what is written
I remember how surprised, delighted and very pleased I was to find when finally meeting him that he is every bit the person I had hoped he would be.
I'm not as analytical as some, but I'll try to post more often.
My sister and I being estranged, I parked my trailer at the furthest limit of her fields, the corner that is left, by law, to the poor. Her hundreds of cherry trees were blossoming, and on the road to the great stone house that they lined, a lacework of petals. It was a Saturday. I reclined against a little hill, a shoot of wheat between my teeth, looked at the blue sky, a bird, three threads of luminous cloud, and my heart would not rejoice. I entered the hour of self-accusation. A strange sound trembled in the air. It was caused by the north wind on the electric lines, a sustained chord of surprising harmonies, power and duration, greatly pleasing, a singing of breath and steel, a huge string instrument of masts and fields, complex tensions. Suddenly the judgment was clear. Let your sister, with her towers and gardens, praise the incomparable handiwork of the Lord, but you are pledged to the breath of the Name. Each of you in your proper place. The cherry trees are hers, the grapes and the olives, the thick-walled house; and to you, the unimagined charities of accident in the Corner of the Poor.
“a singing of breath and steel… you are pledged to the breath of the Name.”
“Suddenly the judgment was clear”
“My sister and I being estranged, I parked my trailer at the furthest limit of her fields”
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