Who Am I?

I am reading Tom Robbins' Skinny Legs and All

the way I like to read a book: slowly.

Sometimes one sentence in a day, and the sentence bounces around in my head, ricocheting off of the day's experiences, picking up layers of significance, unveiling truths, the fundamental truth being

that eveything
is like everything else.

I'm beginning to realize that Tom and I share a religion. A pure, unstructured truth.

How I cried when, in the book, a son who lived rich and arrogant fell from grace, and went to work long long hours in a kitchen. The mikveh of greasy suds was so purifying, he found his wholeness, came home to himself.

2010 had in it flights of illusory grandeur and a hard landing on sharp stones. Scraped, I purified by taking on all the hours offered to me, working with beautiful, holy, frenzied, hungry souls.

Often my work is one on one, and the sheer totality of my acceptance transforms each of them into the angel he really is.

Today, I had eight boys together. You see, the classroom teacher's husband surprised her with a special weekend trip, if she could get covered.

What a a rich day of learning it has been!

Eyes constantly on wiry brilliant D to make sure he didn't bolt suddenly from the school, as has happened. Daveedy can recite a whole movie in Hebrew and in English, but try asking him his name and where he is supposed to be.
D stayed with us today. That was my only concern. And he stayed with us.

But what I really want to process for myself was the morning meeting. I was intrigued that the boys weren't able to tell me the name of the school, and all the more, that they didn't know what Eretz, what country we live in. Can you imagine living in Israel, and not knowing it? It's time to work on a "Who Am I" Book for each boy, and a "We" book, establishing some sort of identity for this odd grouping of boys (to my view they should all be in regular classes with help, except for L. who can never, ever keep from singing, his open, pre-verbal voice vowelling loud through the thoughtscape until we all live in its power, without even hearing it, until I can still him for a brief moment and the silence is clear water.)

We took attendance, and stopped at the names of the two boys who were absent, to send , from our hearts to theirs, wishes for health and for a happy return to school when they are well. At each present boy's name, I mentioned a kindness, an act of helpfulness or sharing from the week.

A. was thrown off kilter by me talking with all the boys at once. He usually has me to himself. He started burping and putting his feet on the table and acting silly, and the aide made him go outside to think for awhile.

What a nice oppportunity, when he came back, to talk about the possibility of change. He went outside to think, and there he remembered who he is. He is A., a boy who takes part nicely in group meetings.
Let me too take time out when I need to, and remember who I am.

Later, during the kabbalat Shabbat, when we lit candles and blessed wine and challah, A offered me a piece of his cake. A pure act of friendship.
Throughout the morning we sang with the guitar, and especially as we welcomed Shabbat, we all sang Hine Ma Tov U Ma Naim Shevet Achim Gam Yachad.
And remembered who we are.
********************
Return again return again
return to the land of your soul
Return to who you are
Return to what you are
Return to where you are born
and reborn again
Return again return again
Return to the land of your soul