THE OLDEST SOUND on this planet is ocean waves breaking.
Think about THAT for a while.
Those Who Know, Chuckle.
… can’t really be named, only experienced.
THE OLDEST SOUND on this planet is ocean waves breaking.
Think about THAT for a while.
Any god who is mine but not yours, any god concerned with me but not with you, is an idol.”
– Abraham Joshua Heschel
THERE IS MUCH VALUE IN friendships – even more so in those that are decades long.
In 1986, I began working at the Northern California Renaissance Pleasure Faire’s fencing booth. Dubbed the privateer ship “Cardiff Rose” (after the 1976 Roger McGuinn song/album of the same title), we taught people to swordfight using foils; we also staged exhibition bouts with epee, saber, shenai, main-gauche, and other martial implements. These shows drew in many guests, as did our hawkers (myself among them), and an unspeakably tightknit and rollicking good time was had by all – until our much beloved Black Point Forest site was sold to condo developers ’round 2000.
It’s important for Village Elders to know how to pass on what they know.
After that original RenFaire closed, some of us migrated en masse (swords included) to similar “living history” events, including The Great Dickens Christmas Fair. But we also see each other at annual picnics in an undisclosed East Bay park. My copilot (then coworker) and I met at RenFaire in 1988, and recently attended one such reunion. As we drove regretfully home (it’s hard to say goodbye to unique friends you’ve known for almost 40 years), the following discussion ensued, dutifully recorded elsenet (edited here for clarity):
Friends, Roses, countryfolk – lend me your brains.
It was so good to see, connect with, and learn from everyone, which is invariably the case whenever we gather. The thought occurred – and I’m still puzzling the why of it – that our longtime, lifetime Cardiff Rose association-web is good training for becoming Village Elders.
Stay with me here.
1. We are for the most part a generally and generously accepting group of people (we’re all misfits on some level, which helps), except when it comes to militant/willful stupidity. Village Elders may welcome the strange(r), but they also don’t take no guff.
2. The prefatory acronym AKICITR – “All Knowledge Is Contained In The Rose,” which we all use to pose online questions to activate our “hive mind” – is amusing, yes, but also true thanks to our vasty array of eclectic educations, singular experiences, and multiform talents. And what we don’t know, we know how to learn about. Village Elders must be, or at least be perceived to be, sources of wisdom.
3. Strictly as a collective, it would be fair to say that “we’ve seen it all” (see point #2), while mostly avoiding the discomfort of world-weariness by dint of a sardonic sense of humor. Village Elders without such a humor-sense are just crotchety old fussbudgets and get-off-my-lawn shouters.
4. Many of us have (or teach) younglings. It’s important for Village Elders to know how to pass on what they know.
Anyway, that’s the view from behind these eyeballs. What do you think?
This can’t at all capture our seamless friendships’ ineffable essence, but I hope it conveys some of the flavor; we would not be the people we are today without each other. Here’s to good (and sadly, some now-absent) friends – and to life! [clink]
The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”
— Bumpersticker seen this afternoon (2505.21)
TO ME, GOD IS NOT a Being to be worshipped – but a Presence to be experienced. (YMMV.)
(Sermon for Parashat Vayikra [Leviticus 1:1-5:26], 4/5/25.)
THIS WEEK’S TORAH PORTION, LIKE the entire book of Leviticus it’s taken from, asks: “How do we get close to G?d – and survive?”
Leviticus’ answer is excruciatingly detailed – so much so that it strikes fear into b’mtzvah students whose birthdays fall anytime during its reading season. But this third book of the Torah opens simply enough, with G?d having Moses tell the Israelites: “When any of you presents an offering to Adonai…”
Note the operative word: “when.” Not if, but when. The Torah assumes that our ancestors would do like their surrounding cultures, and worship their deity by sacrificing slaughtered animals on a flaming altar. So ingrained was this practice that if Moses and his charges could see us gathered here this morning, they’d wonder why we don’t offer animals like they did – as the Torah tells them to do.
In fact, the purpose of this “offering” is built into the Hebrew word that depicts it: “korban,” which shares its kuf-reish-bet root with the word “kiruv,” meaning “to draw near.”
There is something very moving about the idea of sharing an intimate meal with G?d.
The esteemed Torah commentator Rashi emphasizes that our portion begins by talking about voluntary offerings – not those brought to atone for a sin or other trespass. When someone felt the need for a spiritual boost for whatever reason, they would bring to the Altar whatever their means allowed – domestic ruminants, turtledoves, matzah, or even raw flour. If they wanted to express to G?d their gratitude, for example, their animal’s fats and organs would burn on the Altar, and its meat would be consumed by the worshipper and their friends and relations.
There is something very moving about the idea of sharing an intimate meal with G?d. It’s quite the contrast to the people’s attitude at the foot of Sinai in Exodus 20:16. There, they heard G?d’s voice and subsequently begged Moses: “You speak to us and we will listen; but let not G?d speak to us, lest we die.”
The word translated as “we will listen” is “nishma” – from the root shin-mem-ayin, or “Shema.” (Sound familiar?) Indeed, the concept of Shema is so important that we’re commanded to focus on it in prayer twice daily. That’s reminiscent of the twice-daily offerings burning on the Altar of the Mishkan (Tabernacle) – and later, the Holy Temple.
But the question remains wherever religious folk gather: How do we experience G?d, the Divine, the Holy One, or however you think of It? Through study? Prayer? Acts of kindness? Something else entirely? Let’s listen to each other, and hopefully learn a little something…
[PASS MICROPHONE]
The handful of replies included “In nature,” “Random moments of intuition,” and finally, “Just sitting in silence.”
[THEN]
Thank you, everyone, for your input and insights. Riffing on that last answer, the Sufi poet Rumi once said, “G?d speaks in silence. Everything else is a poor translation.” Shabbat Shalom.
I’VE SAID THIS BEFORE, BUT it’s more important now than ever:
“I pledge allegiance to the Constitution
Of the United States of America
And to the ideal on which it stands:
One nation of individuals
Indivisibly intertwined
With liberty, justice, and peace for all.”
(So help me, G?d. And so help all of us.)
Q: “CAN YOU TEACH ME THE whole Torah in a dozen words or less?”
A: “‘Don’t be a jerk.’ The rest is details; now go experience them.”
Silence is the language of God. Everything else is a poor translation.”
— Rumi
Today’s Task: Know that “God” is One.
My dead psychic twin Sputnik, who rediscovered his natal Christian faith around the same time I came back to Judaism, was fond of saying, “Monotheism is not for wimps.” By that he meant that if you subscribe to the nondual one-Source-for-everything paradigm, you have to take the bad with the good: earthquakes and aurorae, wars and wonderment, convicted felons and patriots. In other words, if you believe that “God” is only responsible for the stuff you like, and is not to be found in the stuff you don’t, you might be spiritually hobbling yourself. Since the potential for every particle of existence emerged from the Big Bang, we are ALL connected; even to the people and things we despise. That can be a hard concept to swallow — but it can also be worth the chew.
Exercise: Flex those soul-jaws by trying to digest the idea that someone or something you find objectionable, or even loathsome, also partakes of the Divine. That doesn’t mean you have to condone or agree with them or it – an important distinction! – only that you acknowledge the connection. (Or, as Robert Anton Wilson writes, “Everyone has the Buddha-nature, but some poor bastards just don’t realize it yet.”)
THE ONE WHO SPOKE AND THE WORLD CAME INTO BEING expresses a pretty profound metaphor, at least to those students of the Torah unbothered by anthropomorphism. Think about the many possible ways to spin a creation myth: divine entities dreaming everything into existence; a landscape composed of a giant dragon’s hero-dismembered parts; a war of cosmic proportions between co-creators; divine entities populating their fresh new world with grateful worshippers just for amusement. But the Torah’s version is sublimely, psychologically subtle: it posits that our reality is created by words. And really – isn’t it?
Once upon a time, in 2011 in fact, The Metaphorager aspired to daily feature a year’s worth of different names for that-which-some-people-call-God: some creative, others traditional, each unique. For reasons, instead we’re going to occasionally post one until we run out of what we’ve collected so far. If you want to see your favorite here, but haven’t, pass it this way with the subject line “365 Names” and let us know whether or not you want to be credited.
LAUGH. SEE?”
— J.R. “Bob” Dobbs
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