Trying to engage with life a little differently.
Went on a faux European getaway to wake myself up some, to appreciate a city not far from me. It worked well. Visited a dear friend with a Paris-sunlit flat. East Indian-themed dinner party. Did the dishes by hand in a kitchen with no counter space but lots of charm. Met new cats and dogs. Went to Oktoberfest (in September) and listened to the Bavarian Barons play. Had Spaten Oktoberfest beer and a warm pretzel in the middle of a drunken crowd. Roamed through a fantastic flea market/antiques center, oohing and aahing over crystal doorknobs and ancient carnival rides, dismantled and for sale. Took photos of carousel horses and stone cherubs. Walked the dogs in a rainy, misty park. All that was missing were the Euros.
The week before, traded labor and company at a daylily farm for some beautiful lilies that will surprise me next year when they bloom, and a paper bag full of organic green peppers and cucumbers. “Girls, gather around. Mommy worked today and earned us THIS.” Wry glances. But the Caroline Ingalls in me was never more pleased with herself. Dirt still under my fingers, memories of tagging daylilies with wonderful names like “Epic Poem” and “Kiss the Girl.” I managed to not park directly in the pond. Lunch in the woodstove-heated greenhouse: smoothies and a flaky croissant with cherry preserves, eaten with dirty fingers. There were orders to get boxed and shipped, after all. No time to waste. The lilies would not wait. There is a longer post here, about the Lily Kingdom, but it will not come today.
The Yom Kippur folks have not yet shown up on my doorstep. I think it should be more like Halloween. We all take shifts, receiving and making atonement, amends. I would offer folks forgiveness and Nutella, but they do not come. All is quiet. I don’t know where to put my atonement.
This is a Jewish holiday that I don’t understand very well. Does only God need to hear our atoning? That sounds kind of Catholic to me. Why the Middle Man? Does this solemn holiday include listening? Accepting each other’s apologies, and saying so, with humility?
I think there’s only so much God can do on his own, only so much that fasting can do, no? I’d rather hear, “I’m sorry,” in person. Geez, I’d rather say it in person, too. Let’s all go around dropping off flowers and jam and bread, yes? Maybe next year?
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