The Moon of Adar I (February-March)

 

As the earth wrestles, weather and life tumultuous,
you call upon the name of God, HaRachaman 
 

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HaRachaman,

You Who loves deeply
from within,
Who's ever-pregnant
with marvels and wisdoms,

You remind me
that living in a world solely of movement,
unbalances me.

 

HaRachaman,
You Who cares for me with passion,
You remind me this moon gently, firmly,
how mundane living
can blind me, steal away my seasons,
rob me of my sense of rhythm,
and that now,
is the time to realign.

HaRachaman,
You Who Mothers me each moment,
You give me the gift of Adar I.

Adar I is commonly plain.
She appears without celebration or song.
She comes unadorned,
and in her simplicity,
she speaks to me.

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To slow down.

To return to ways of living with spirit
that restore me.

To slow down.

To remember
to sense the earth.

To feel her soil beneath my feet,
steadfastly nurturing life.

To remember
how she sustains me.

 

And You remind me,
to see the ground upon which I stand
as holy,
containing sparks of aliveness.

You speak to me,
to slow down.

To remember
to sense my body.

To feel the miracles lying within me,
the soft winds blowing through my being,
the golden light shimmering in my core.

And You remind me,
to see my inner lands from which I move,
as holy,
containing sparks of magnificent
beauty.

HaRachaman,
You Who loves so deeply,
lovingly lead me back to myself.

Quietly remind me 
of my need
to sculpt space for my soul.

That I might sing my song once more.

The song only I can sing,
HaRachaman.

 

 

Photography Credit

Kathy Berendt