I’m being held hostage by Chanukah candles.
Let me reframe that.
I am CHOOSING,
Consciously
Choosing
To stay in the room,
In
The
Kitchen
With them.
I do not want to burn down this lovely old farmhouse
That I do not own.
That would be depressing.
My mom would put
Our shabbat candles
And
Chanukah candles
In the kitchen sink
When we went upstairs.
I remember the light of the candles
Dancing off the sides
Of the sink,
Shadows,
Silhouettes,
Snatches
Of
The women
Who
Came
Before.
It was comforting
Very comforting
Then
To watch
Their dance.
I sit here tonight on this
The Seventh day
Of Chanukah
Comforted by the light
Of candles
Dancing in my sink.
I’d like to talk to my mother tonight.
I’d like to thank her for her profound resilience
Which has become
It seems
Mine.
Which, it seems,
Has come in
Pretty
Darn
Handy
This
Year.
Chances are—
I would do most of the talking.
My mom’s responses would
As always
Be verbally
Minimal,
To say the least.
Her presence
Was
Deeper
Than words.
~~~
I am that child
Watching the lights
Of my mother’s
Candles.
I am that mother
Watching my
Own
Lights.
I am that woman
Watching the dance
Of those women
Who
Came
Before.
Tillie.
Sonia.
Rifka.
Nachama.
My matriarchy.
My lineage.
~~~
One more night of Chanukah.
Another Chanukah in my life.
One more birthday,
Another birthday in my life.
One more solstice,
Another solstice in my life.
One more roll of the holiday season,
One more holiday season in my life.
One more year,
One more year in my life.
Speaking of years—
Will this one ever end?
~~~
End it will,
This year,
She will end.
End, she is.
~~
How do we mark
This past year?
2020
Which
Took
So much
From us.
Through the suffering
Through the losses,
Our gifts
Were skewed,
And yet
Available,
As they
Ripped
Our hearts
apart.
How do we mark it
This thing of heartbreak
And possibility,
How do we?
How do we
Honor it?
Purge it?
Measure it?
Release it?
Learn
From
It?
How?
~~~
Seasons of Love.
I think of the wonderous song, Seasons of Love, from Rent which celebrates the number of minutes in a year—525, 600 minutes. Although it’s possible, this year, this 2020 is a major exception—the minutes seemed doubled, tripled, stretched out endlessly across the days. But do check out these lyrics:
~~~
525,600 minutes
525,000 moments so dear
525,600 minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In 525,600 minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?
How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love
Seasons of love
Seasons of love
525,600 minutes
525,000 journeys to plan
525,600 minutes
How do you measure the life of a woman or man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died
It’s time now to sing out
Though the story never ends
Let’s celebrate, remember a year
In the life of friends
Remember the love
You got to, you got to remember the love
Remember the love
You know that love is a gift from up above
Remember the love
Share love, give love, spread love
Measure in love
Seasons of love
Seasons of love
Measure, measure your life in love
~~~
Measure your life in love.
Hum.
Here is the song:
Seasons of Love from Rent:
~~~
And for a bit more inspiration, here is a modeling of who I want to be as a human on this planet.
Watch how the blind dog is assisted: https://gfycat.com/regularoilyblobfish
~~~
Announcements:
The Kripalu Approach to Healthy Weight—Online!
Do you find yourself struggling with food? Where is that healthy balance? I am delighted to offer this classic, this brilliant Kripalu core program, along with my dear colleagues, Dr. Lisa Nelson (the doctor you want and need) and Lauren Gernady, Kripalu School of Ayurveda awesome faculty member.
Please, do check out this link. It’s going to be good, and profoundly timely!
https://kripalu.org/presenters-programs/kripalu-approach-healthy-weight-online-edition
Christmas Eve Wisdom Circle
Thursday, 12/24, @ 2:00-3:00
Feel free to dress up (or down), bring a poem, an insight, something to share (or not), wear a hat, pj’s are welcomed, of course! Sweatpants are mandatory, this being 2020 and all. So sorry, just being silly.
Let’s celebrate ourselves and the return of the light.
http://coacharuni.com/thursdaycircles/
~~~
Dear Friends,
Be well, be safe.
May this holiday season
Bless you with
Endings,
With
New
Beginnings,
With hope,
And possibility,
Maybe
Even
Gratitude.
All blessings,
Aruni