On the second day of Pesah, the rabbi reminded us about time. Slaves can't control it but we, as free people, have that opportunity. We have mastery over time; we can choose when to work, and when to stop.
Well, somewhat. I tried to remind myself of this important truth these past few weeks whenever a deadline bumped into the beginning of parts of the hag, and the need to sleep collided with a deadline. It's been a little crazy, but much fun. I hope to resume semi-regular blogging and write about the seder I led, the new family members I got to know, the Torah I chanted (5 out of 8 days). I am a free person; the choice and power to control time lies in my hands. But freedom isn't easy.
Before I head off to brunch with friends (a true urban marker of freedom, as we all take a break from Sunday cramming of various sorts), I'll start at the end. Yesterday I once again chanted The Birds, Shemini version (they make another appearance over the summer). I knew it well, but my memory balked for fractions of second when I encountered some of the longer, stranger words in unfamiliar handwriting on the scroll. But I also sensed that the yad was trying to push my eyes across the line, egging me on to reach from one syllable to the next. I didn't lose my place; I ambled, instead, from word to word. The effect, for me, was that I got to really hear and listen to each sound, almost as if those birds were making their own music just for me.