Prayer Time

"all the day long on the alert, at night we unwillingly say our prayers..."

I know what I want, how I want it, and where to get it. I move fast through the day on high alert, while G-d waits at my window, for the love He knows He deserves. Every day. As my head drops onto my pillow, I see the light waiting for me out in the dark behind the curtain. All I can do is lift myself up until my shoulders, nod my prayers and promise that tomorrow I will let go of the reins and enjoy the ride while thanking and blessing my Creator. Tomorrow.

"Most of the luxuries, and may of the so-called comforts of life, are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind."


If this is so, then why do I race around on the alert? Am I hindering the elevation of mankind? I thought I was trying to somehow elevate something, maybe that something was my own row of shoes. This book makes me want to search for more peace, and another perfect black dress might just not be the answer. So what is? I do not live at Walden Pond or anything remotely like it. I can do either or: Either live the life of running after luxuries and so called comforts of life, or live at a Walden-like pond with nothing. Its the in between that gets me. I hate the in between. Its going to be all or nothing for me.

To Behave So Well

"and if I repent of anything, it is very likely to be my good behavior."

My teachers never pointed out this sentence to me growing up. Why not? They were afraid. Although this is from a classic, and they made me read many with thorough analysis of every chapter, they conveniently left this out. Fear. They feared teaching anything other than "repent for bad behavior and look to the holy books at all the examples of what happens otherwise". So what do I do? I take on their fear, like a good student.

Its time to repent for my good behavior. Now I am getting excited about life.

Quiet Desperation

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation". 

Walden, oh Walden, where are you? I seek a pond to contemplate upon, yet the searching is done in my mind. Walking or driving to the water is not a consideration when one is leading a life of quiet desperation. Was Henry David Thoreau depressed? Did he isolate at that pond until he discovered St. John's Wart growing in the trees near his handmade cabin? I am only at the  first chapter and do not know. I need a pond to reflect my image back to me, one that is kind of murky, muddy and vague, for right now. 

I read on.

"What old people say you cannot do, you try and find that you can."

It is not only the old people that are the naysayers. They join all the other voices in my head, young, middle age, dead people, old teachers, and school bullies. Well, at the end, the sentence says that you need only try and find that you can. So I try. I find that I can.