בן אור לחשך

I was recently given the task of writing my own “autobiography” for a final paper in one of my classes. Below is an excerpt from my introduction: 

It is told: There are tiny cracks in the ether that makes up our Universe. It is how all of the light from the Cosmos is able to leak in, reach us, soothe us and explain to us what love is.

As I sit down to write my autobiography for the first time, I am struck by this image and the times when this holy light has surrounded me, engulfed me and led me home. I am brought back to a memory at age 4, when I first stared at a lamp for too long. It left this electric purple shadow-burn on the back of my eyelids. Every time I closed my eyes, there was the mark. I felt as though the lamp and I shared a special secret; we knew each other intimately. We knew each other with our eyes closed. It was only a couple months later that I became aware of the fact that this effect was completely natural and normal and all other human beings understood that when you stare into any light for too long, it becomes a part of your eyesight, at least temporarily.

But for that short period, for the first time, I had a secret with the lamp. I shared a secret with the light. 


My whole life I have clung to that memory and used it as a guide to discovering and re-discovering Divine presence in my life. The secrets I share with the light of the Divine have only gotten brighter, and every time I close my eyelids, I see them. Vividly and luminously, the shadow-burns flicker in moments of meditation, sleep, laughter and slumber.

These are the secrets that make me who I am. These are the secrets that I use as seeds to help me plant roots in my life experiences and allow me to grow throughout the night, out of the darkness and into the…

well, you can fill in the rest.


I encourage all of you to discover your own Secrets with the Divine and use them to light up the dark spots underneath your eyelids.

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I like it the most when you speak with your hands,
y o u –
fully unveiled from words.
(Like weapons they hold us hostage)

But you look so beautiful just like that!
Without any hang-ups or punctuations.
No finger can curl the wrong way,
No thumb too long a nail.

When we first spoke your hands were in mittens,
I knit them myself
Thought I could catch you that way.
I’m glad you we outgrew them.

show your wrists
that turn the World
so boldly blanketed with stars,
A quilt you made one Wednesday noon.

Upon this tapestry so worn and woven
There’s a hole.
Can you see it?
(It’s a secret!)
My finger’s on it.
It waits for yours.



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The world turns and we turn with it,

floating in space, in an uncertain orbit

that leads us spinning and turning and dancing

until we are too confused to speak of,


The world turns and we turn with it,

thinking, drinking, humming, groaning, moaning,

“oy! Heaven, must you be so far away?”

We turn our hearts to the ground cuz it needs us,

But what do we need?


My world turns and I dance with it,

arms outstretched, I gulp up the air and sun

I call up to the clouds of Glory that sprinkle down

water that makes us grow.

That makes me grow.

Your world turns and you turn with it,

but do you even know?

where you are going and where you have been?

It’s written on your forehead- you’re lonely.

It’s okay. Let the Love in.

Let your world turn with mine.

I think I love you, because

If I could (and I think I can)

I’d love everyone and everything.

Because why?

Because we are nothing, a part of

the no of all nothings.

We turn, we laugh, we cry, we shout,

we get mad, we get sad, we pick ourselves

Back up, and we keep turning.

Who are we, but breathing vessels spinning

in the space between spaces,

a piece of Divine?

I think so.

Why am I even here?

(Because I love G!d)

this train is bound for glory

this train is bound for glory

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רסיסי אור

Drunk on the possibility,


Of love. Of oozing tears of holy light that illuminate the path of those who have lost their way.

Drunk on the free love that
Shines out of corners full of cob webs and
draped on lace dresses and torn begeds
crying out to hold your hand.

Drinking, slowly, the masks we wear, feeling tipsy off the revelation that comes when we peel back layers of juicy, painful frustration that liquifies and mystifies our souls.

Sipping, buzzing, dreaming – Drunk!
Off that divine source of magic that sparkles in your teeth and glows in your eyes and is the source of all light when I have taken a wrong turn.

Silly, smiley, warm, drunken mess that makes my cheeks red and dress light up.
The kind of drunken mess that pours out of your breathe and kisses the Ether of God (the place from which you came). Drunk!

Drunk off your lovingkindness, sweet God
Of the celestial fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters that sing the song of the Cosmos, dance on the wind and
Fill our Cups with divine juice-
So sweet on my hands, as I clap the elixir back up to you,
To embrace,
To drink,
To cheer,
To unify,
To be at peace- amen!


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לך לךָ


those negative oozing wounds around my heart –


and go-

inside to my holy promised land-



a covenant with you, It, We-



to be a part of the ONE-


love and cultivate-

a World for us to be free-



in holy blankets of divine cosmic dust-

in the desert.


your ideas of Gods, worship, truth-

your Name.

yud, hay, vuv-

squeeze, within you, that space for a special letter-


How do I hear(t) the call? Better yet, how do I answer?

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The evil demons see the War,

they perceive the human as the battlefield,

they interpret each Spirit as an adequate space for attack and warfare-

Spiritual Warfare*.

But the forces for Good, the holy spaces and orifices that are emanate,

They already know.

They’ve won.

They’ve already won.

(How could they not?)

You can chose whatever you’d like, and the demons are real.

The demons are real.

But you don’t have to let them win. And they (the Angels) know this. They already know.


(Die, Demon, DIE.)

The Spiritual Warrior takes her hands as weapons, and prays,

for a pure heart.

and for the right wind to come and blow away the demonic inclination that surrounds and encroaches and interrupts the natural golden flow of the Universe…

And the prayers (with grace and importance) they’re answered.

(*Spiritual warfare means always being a warrior. You don’t get a break from the battlefield. You don’t take a breather, You breathe INTO it. Into the opposing energies. You breathe into them; You suffer; You expand; You find Grace; YOU WIN. You kill with kindness, with mercy, with love. YOU LEAP INTO THE INFINITE)

And you taste a giant, holy, gorgeous drop of sweat from God’s forehead. The sweat that is wiped off every time the holy, HOLY ONE recites and receives Your prayers…

How righteous it is, to be received, to be answered…

By the HOLY O N E,

Blessed be…

Y O U.

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Which came first…

The Book or the idea?

The love or the hate?

The seed or the Tree?

The insanity or the sane?

The pressure or the release?

The language or the sound?

The music or the Divine?

What will come last… ?


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