An artistic validation of the many textures of grief
What I didn’t expect was how much fun it would be. Each time I dipped, and came up to speak my words, I smiled and laughed.
It is revealing that quite regularly women tell me they prefer not to feel like a side of beef being kashered in her immersion process.
Starting at sunrise beneath the brilliant waning moon, I ventured into the desert with 70 clergy and humanitarian aid facilitators. In each of them I saw a face of the Divine.
“We are not merely connected like two ends of a thread,” the speaker says. “We are the thread./ One and whole.”