So I did a lot of writing during the month of Elul--just not here. Every single day I reviewed exactly how I missed the mark, and scribbled answers with a big, thick green pen into an actual paper-based notebook. It was exhausting, even more so for my brain and heart than my out-of-practice right hand (typing is a lot easier than the old-fashioned method). The answers, not all bad, weren't news. Not by a long shot. I'm glad I did it--I needed to do it--and it helped me understand the holidays that followed. I learned and grew. But Elul wasn't much fun, most of the time.
Now I need to remind myself that writing really IS fun (especially since I'm taking another writing workshop that begins next week).
Rosh Hashanah already feels like it took place in some distant era, but it was just two weeks ago. Once again we were back at the Very Large and Impressively Ornate Former Christian Scientist Church, where I helped lead on the first day. I was last there in 2003, sitting in the balcony with the choir listening to a rabbinic student sing morning blessings with perfect calm and joy, and going home later to try and duplicate the melody and wonder idly what it might feel like to stand in that spot. And on the first day of Rosh Hashanah this year, I got my chance.
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