When I was young ...
He thought I was crazy when I asked him.
"You know, sometimes you feel like you're with the flow ... and sometimes you've accidentally stepped out of the flow .... know what I mean?"
He didn't.
I felt sorry for him.
Later, meditating, quieting the chatter, I sometimes sat, shaken, joyful, amazed at swirling energy, vibrance expressed in colors and light and feeling, mixed in a vision not really explainable in words.
But the feeling ... it was kind of like being in that flow.
When I became a Jew, the poetry of the liturgy inspired visions of life's and the world's and the universe's magnificence, and the miracle of blood coursing through my body, eyes opening and closing, the incredible symphony of all the parts in my body working together so that I can be me, going through a normal day — surrounded by, standing in that flow, a panopoly of wonder and blessing and being blessed ...
I stood once, transfixed, at a service, hearing the chant of "Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel and Leah" and felt myself in the center of that flow, no longer separated by time from those who have come before ...
I hear "I lift my eyes to the mountains," and it is close, the feeling of being part of something larger, larger than I can understand. A blue-purple mountain, drawing me in, peace and joy filling me with gratitude and awe for being there in that moment.
And I hear kaddish, ancient words of praise; in a dark time we still praise; in a sad time we reach, we reach by our words to step forward beyond logic, beyond time; to suddenly, even in our pain, to be standing in, part of, the flow and to know that what we reach for, what surrounds us in swirling glimpses, is not understandable, but it is good.
