The Days are creeping up there. Slowly, slowly we are getting towards Sinai. Today I spent some time at the Victory Center, senior apartments, assisted living facility where one of our most senior members lives. It was my regularly scheduled monthly program. We talked about Shavuot. My member remembered that she was confirmed. She remembered every detail–the white dresses, decorating the sanctuary with flowers, marching in, her Biblical verse which she was so proud of, “The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want.” We talked about eating dairy for Shavuot. When asked why someone suggested that it is because it is white, pure like the 10 Commandments. We shared recipes for cheesecake and blintzes. I learned that they always have blintzes in the dining room on Sundays for dinner. Then we tried to remember all of the 10 Commandments. We got through most of them on our own but it was hard. We talked about which is the most meaningful to them. They like “Honor your mother and father.” I think some of them think that in their older ages they are not being honored. We talked about the different between honor, which we think means respect and Fear or Revere as it come up in Leviticus. Someone said that we should fear our parents like we fear G-d. We talked about that for a long time. We talked about what commandment might be missing in the formulation of the 10 Commandments. They answered: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.”

Then we read the Book of Ruth. What does it mean to follow someone like Ruth followed Naomi? What does it mean as a widow to think your life is that bitter, Mara, because you no longer have a husband and you can’t provide sons for your daughters-in-law? You can’t provide food? You are at the will of the community to take care of you? It was a very poignant discussion. They felt it was a nice story and one that really resonated with them.

Later I went to New Member Shabbat. One little girl was wearing a sparkly smiley face T-shirt. I was reminded of another confirmation. The class ahead of my daughter, one of the students, Paula Rand, said that the 11th Commandment would be “Just smile.” Smile and the world smiles with you. It is the corollary of “be nice and others will be nice to you.” So I told that story at shul, off the cuff. Everyone smiled. May it be so.

Today is the 36th day of the counting of the omer. 36 is an important number in Judaism. Each Hebrew letter corresponds to a number. Aleph is one, bet is two, gimel is three. Thirty six is the numerical equivalent of double eighteen, double life. It is also said that there are 36 people, righteous people who sustain the world. This belief goes back to Talmudic times based on the text from Sanhedrin 97b, that 36 righteous greet the Shechinah. Another name for these special people is the nistraim, concealed ones and they are even concealed from each other. Each one is so humble that if you were to suggest that they were one of the lamed vavniks they would protest.

I was at a meeting recently where I was told I received special treatment. I answered that I thought this person, who knows from all accounts she could be a lamed vavnik, treated me nicely because I had treated her kindly. Isn’t that true, if you are nice, than others will be nice to you. It is a variant on Hillel’s statement, “Do not do unto others what you would not have them do to you. Love your neighbor as yourself; the rest is commentary. Go and study. ” This is really the foundation, the yesod of Judaism. Today, the 36th day is chesed b’yesod, the lovingkindness of the foundation. This is it; it doesn’t get more central. Jesus said it this way: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” We know it as the golden rule. Sounds simple, no? Apparently it is not so simple.

Earlier this week someone swore at me when I asked a question. “Frankly, rabbi, it is none of your g-dxxxxed business.” Now I have been know to use curse words–and I think I know them all, but using one to a rabbi, especially one that uses G-d’s name in vain, probably means that you are not a lamed vavnik and probably means you lose your place in the world to come. The person has some anger management issues, and some self-esteem issues, The person has had a hard life, no question, but the person seems angry and bitter most of the time. I think this person is trapped in fear.

My question remains, why do some people turn out to be lamed vavniks, truly one of the rigthous ones, while others wind up so bitter and angry that they swear at a rabbi for a farirly innoucous question?

Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav who I quoted yesterday has another take on the central thing: The whole world is a very narrow bridge and the central thing is to not be afraid. Maybe that is the secret. If we can conquer our fear and experience G-d’s loveingkindness, the chesed which is the foundational building block, then, then we can overcome the pain and disappointment in our lives. Otherwise, we are trapped in a building without a strong foundation. May we all find that chesd, G-d’s lovingkindnss so that we can live without fear. Then we will have discovered the foundation of Judaism.

Today was Day 35 of the counting of the omer, the malchut b;hod, the kingdom of beauty and humility. Micah said that what G-d requires of us is to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly with our G-d. What does it mean to walk humbly? Simon Jacobson says that to walk humbly is to walk tall. I’ve been thinking a lot about body language lately. What does it communicate? Do we have a tendency to misread body language. Can we hold our heads up high and still be humble? I think the answer is yes. Recently we got some distressing news. It is not life-shattering but it was very expensive and disappointing. There were a couple of ways to look at this piece of news. We could disappointed–and we are, or we could see ourselves as incredibly lucky, which we also are. I realized that it is a both.and thing. What I didn’t have to feel was a sense of shame in the mix. Humble does not mean shame.

I am reminded of a guided meditation by Rabbi Susan Freeman. She taught, as an infant not quite ready to walk, we walked with G-d, blameless, like Noah who was blameless in his generation…Noah walked with G0d (Gen 6:9). Walking provides a sense of wholeness, of being fully present, with nothing separating us from anything. Walking with G-d. Later we are like Abraham who is told to Lech Lecha, go towards himself, Now we are no longer walking with G-d, but before G-d. “Walk before Me and be blameless (Gen 17:1) We continue walking, walking, walking, secure in the knowledge that G-d walks with us. Walking a long time, the body begins to become weary, very tired. We wonder what is the point of this long journey. we may be resigned. Angry. Bitter. We may wonder, “What have we gained by keeping G-d’s charge. and walking in mourning, before the Lord of Hosts (Malachai 3:14). But strangely we are not frightened but calm. We are safe. We are going to a safe place. “Ki holech adam el olamo, For we walked to our eternal abode.” (Eccesiastes 12:5). There is a calmness even as we stop walking. There is no fear. G-d is with us, right behind us, as always. G-d has been a constant companion. G-d neither slumbers nor sleeps. Though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death we shall fear no evil.”(Psalms 23:4). A full lifecycle of walking with G-d, humbly as Micah suggests.

So I took a walk today. I revelled in the beauty, the greens and the yellows, the forsythia and the daffodils, the tulips and the magnolias. The bright blue sky. The gentle breeze. I felt G-d’s presence wash over me. Rabbi Nachman of Bratslev said that we spend an hour outdoors each day alone walking with G-d and pouring out our heart. I was humbled as I walked tall and as I walked with G-d. So may it be for us all.

Rabbi Nachman’s prayer:

Grant me the ability to be alone;
may it be my custom to go outdoors each day
among the trees and grass – among all growing things
and there may I be alone, and enter into prayer,
to talk with the One to whom I belong.
May I express there everything in my heart,
and may all the foliage of the field –
all grasses, trees, and plants –
awake at my coming,
to send the powers of their life into the words of my prayer
so that my prayer and speech are made whole
through the life and spirit of all growing things,
which are made as one by their transcendent Source.
May I then pour out the words of my heart
before your Presence like water, O L-rd,
and lift up my hands to You in worship,
on my behalf, and that of my children!

Yesterday was the 34th day of the omer and it finally felt like Spring, or Summer. Simon mowed the grass. Yes, really. With an electric mower that we now own that is supposed to be better for the environment. Everything is blooming and the world looks beautiful. The lake behind our house, part of the wetlands, is filling back in. It is very green. Bright early spring green. The trees are starting to get leaves and they have that lacy look. For years I have been trying to write a poem with that language to no avail. You just have to see it to appreciate it. They make me smile and warm my heart. We had a steak on the grill and are planning how we want to use our outdoor space in summer.
And yet, and yet. I am not happy. I spent much of my “day off” working on some synagogue things, including an email exchange that had been very hurtful to two people. Email is an important tool but it is a blessing and a curse. It may not appear in the list in this week’s parsha or the longer version in Deuteronomy. It is, however, both a blessing and a curse. If not used carefully, the words can hurt. I think it is like the story of the two women who go to the rabbi because each is gossiping about the other. He (it is always a he in those stories) tells them to take a feather pillow to the town square and cut it open. Then scatter the feathers to the four winds. They do this and return to the rabbi. He sends them back to collect the feathers. “But rabbi, that’s impossible.” He says, “So it is with words. Once they are spoken they cannot be gathered back together.” With email, it is hard to distinguish tone. A one letter typo can change the whole meaning. I once spent two days puzzling over an email from a happy client. “Thank you very much for coming to France. We learned a great deal. It is not going through channels.” The writer had meant, “it is now going through channels.”

Today is yesod b’hod, the foundation of beauty and humility. Hillel taught in a place where there are no men, strive to be a man. Words are building blocks. We need to be careful with our words and strive to be menschen. We should not use our words to hurt others feelings. We should think before we speak or before we hit the send button. Then we can build the foundation of our community. It’s a beautiful thing.

Sunday was the 33rd Day of the Counting of the Omer. It is a special day where mourning practices are set aside. It makes the yahrzeit, the anniversary of the death of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, Bar Yochai was one of the five remaining disciples of Rabbi Akiva after the 24,000 students died. There is a strong tradition that he is the author of the Zohar, one of the greatest Jewish mystical works.

The day is marked with picnics and bonfires, as one of my congregants pointed out, almost like a giant yahrzeit candle for a Torah scholar. In Israel some people make pilgrimidges to Shimon bar Yochai’s grave in the northern Israeli town of Meron. One of the most interesting custom in the Orthodox community is not cutting a young boy’s hair until his third birthday or until Lag B’Omer of that year.  Also in Israel, children would play (?) with bows and arrows based on a comment in the mid rash that the rainbow, the sign that G-d would never destroy the world by a flood was not seen during Bar Yochai’s lifetime.

At Congregation Kneseth Israel this year, my third grade students did not play with bows and arrows, but we did play the Israeli beach game Kadima. We all enjoyed a bon fire in our Weber grill and we roasted marshmellows, Then we sang every Israeli song we know. I doubt that our students will forget the year we celebrated Lag B’Omer.

Later that day the congregation hosted a walking tour, the Hidden Treasures of Historic Holy Hill, together with six other congregations and the Elgin Historical Society, to allow people to visit a variety of houses of worship. In the kabbalistic counting system, Lag B’Omer, the 33rd day of the omer is the fifth day of the fifth week or Hod b’Hod, splendor in splendor. I saw details that I hadn’t seen before. Beautiful stained glass windows that look unassuming from outside but refract the light beautifully on the inside. Huge rose windows that remind me of a rainbow or a kaleidoscope. A stained glass window in the Methodist Church that has a Torah in it to represent the Hebrew Scriptures. A peace pole in front of the United Church of Christ congregation. These were some of the hidden treasures I noticed. More importantly, I was reminded of the idea of hiddur hamitzvah, beautification of the commandment. In each congregation there was visible “pride of place” and attempts to make the worship space beautiful.

It was a great day for the city of Elgin, for each of the congregations participating and for Congregation Kneseth Israel on the celebration of the 120th anniversary. We generated a lot of good press and even better a lot of good will in the community. May we like Bar Yochai go from strength to strength, light to light, splendor to splendor.

I seem to have fallen a little behind. Perhaps that is because I am preparing for Shabbat. Shabbat comes every week and we welcome her like a bride, like a queen, like an angel. We welcome Shabbat with candles, with wine and with bread. This week we read about the candles, oil lights really in the Tabernacle and about the challah. Yes, challah is a Biblical word.
At some point, the tending of these two important mitzvot became women’s work, not the work of the priests. This switch fascinates me. Is it because a home is considered a mikdash me’at, a small sanctuary? Because a women is expected to keep, to create shalom bayit, peace of the home? Is it tied to the verse I love from the Friday night Psalms, “Light is sown, planted for the righteous and joy for the upright in heart?”

My mother would light Shabbat candles most Friday nights once we moved to Grand Rapids. She was never so good on the Hebrew and frequently got stuck on the word v’tzivanu. If we were at services she would lean over, midway through and ask the cantor, “What’s my word?” and he would prompt her. Then she would read the responsive reading out of the old Union Prayer Book I. If we were at home she would add an impromptu “Shabbes shpiel”. A sense of warmth and peace would descend on the house. She never liked the reading from Proverbs, a Woman of Valor. It offended her feminist sensitivities.

What she didn’t know is she was following in the footsteps of generations of women. Jewish women would compose their own prayers for the lighting of the Shabbes candles. Called tekhinot, these were prayers written by women for women about women’s things–candlelighting, challah, niddah, mikveh, childbirth, nursing, weaning.  Some have been recorded, others, like my mother’s floated away or floated up to heaven.

The blessing that we say for lighting the candles, l;hadlik ner shel Shabbat, who commands us to kindle the Shabbat lights, I find fascinating. While you might think that since it is a commanded activity this blessing is in the Talmud, you would be wrong. It is based on the Chanukah candle blessing which is. Maggie Anton, who wrote Rashi’s Daughters, a series I have loved, argued that it was one of Rashi’s daughters, or her husband, Rabbenu Tam that composed it. I was so excited! Let’s hear it for feminism. But apparently there are records of it back to Rav Gaon who compiled the Machzor Vitry. Rashi quotes this himself:

Rav Gaon’s responsum is and it reads:
One who lights the lamp of Shabbat must recite a blessing. Why? For it is obligatory, as we say (Shabbat 25b), “Lighting lamps for Shabbat is obligatory, for Rav Yehudah said citing Shemuel, Lighting lamps etc.” And we have seen that where it is not possible, other mitzvot are overridden before it, as Rabbah said (Shabbat 23b), “It is obvious that in balancing the lamp of the home and the Chanukah lamp, the lamp of the home is greater.” One must bless, “To kindle the lamp of Shabbat.”
And if you will ask, “Where did He instruct us,” it is from Rav Avya and Rav Nachman bar Yitzchak (Shabbat 23a)..

Now embedded in the full discussion, there is a fascinating argument about whether this is a commandment and therefore requires a blessing. However, the rabbis conclude that it does using the verses below:

What Rashi himself, did say about Chanukah lights and Shabbat lights, is : Talmud Shabbat 23b and Rashi: Said Rava, “It is obvious to me that where a person has to choose between kindling household lights [for Shabbat] and Chanukah lights, the household lights should be given preference, for reasons of domestic tranquility…RASHI: Domestic tranquility–that which is stated further on (p. 25b): “My soul was bereft of peace” (Lamentations 3:17), refers to the lighting of Sabbath candles, that (in their absence) the household members are distressed to sit in the darkness.

Today is the 30th day of the counting of the omer. It is about gevurah b’hod, strength or endurance in humility or beauty. Today is about survival and what it takes to be strong. I went to two events about this very topic. The first was at Elgin Community College sponsored by the Community Crisis Center is honor of Sexual Abuse Awareness Month. The second one was at the Gail Borden Library as part of their commemoration of Holocaust Remembrance Day. For my book discussion group, we discussed The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult.

I listened to three different survivors tell their stories. They went through unspeakable terrors. All three were humble. All three were almost apologetic. They survived. Others did not. In the case of the Holocaust survivor who escaped Germany as a young child, after Kristalnacht, he grew up in Chicago. “I am not a camp survivor. I am one of the lucky ones.”
In the case of the two survivors of sexual assault, each had been assaulted multiple times. Each one blamed herself and tried to bury the past. Each one struggled to find her voice. And yet, there was a thread that ran through all three presentations, it takes luck and discipline to survive, to overcome the tragedy, to be able to stand on a podium and tell these stories, so very personal, so very haunting. It takes courage. It takes energy. It takes sheer will and determination. We are the richer for their ability to be strong and humble. For their ability to find their voices. Some people can never do what they did today. Some people who undergo traumatic experiences wind up perpetual victims. Angry, bitter, scared, scarred. What makes the difference between the two responses is not clear to me but something I have been thinking about a great deal. Is is brain chemistry, biology, some kind of electrical switch, a nurture or nature thing, the help that they may have received immediately after the trauma, a sense of being loved and secure? Some combination of factors? What does it take to say with confidence, “I am a survivor, not a victim?” Do you have to acknowledge being a victim before you can become a survivor?

We are not even two weeks out from the horrific bombings at the Boston Marathon. People are continuing to heal their physical wounds. The mental ones may take even longer. A friend of mine, Lesley Litman with whom I spent time in NFTY as advisors, blogged this morning:
“On Monday I ran over my cell phone with my car. It was the first “normal” work day since the tragic and difficult events of last week….I gathered up the front piece, the battery and the back piece, put it back together and turned it on. Miracle of miracles – it worked. Except the back piece would not stay on. My husband threw some duct tape on it to hold it all together and the phone is as good as new. Except it’s not…I went down to New York City this week for work… No one knew I was from Boston, I could feel almost normal. Except I’m not.
At one point, walking along the streets of New York, I looked down at my phone and realized that it represents my beloved Boston in this still fragile time: The phone works. It looks pretty normal. Except it’s not. It is taped together. Duct tape is strong – Boston is Strong. But it will be some time before the duct tape can be removed.”

Powerful words for any person who has survived trauma. We are held together by invisible duct tape, and many, many you would not know are healing from looking at them from the outside. They look normal…but they are not. They may be working at professional jobs, excellent mothers and fathers, homeowners, whatever your definition of success is, and they may be crying on the inside, angry, depressed, bitter. Or they may have found ways like the two survivors of sexual assault and the Holocaust survivor to rise. To embrace life. To choose life. To live.

May I not become embittered with my own life story. May I continue to approach healing with discipline, strength and courage. May the day come when I can stand there with confidence and courage and not be afraid.

Today is day 29 of the counting of the omer. It is the start of week 5. Can it really be five weeks since the Passover seders? Where did the time go. What is this week going to be about. The sefira we focus on is hod that gets translated as beauty or humility. Those are very different concepts. Today is about This morning I was driving down the road, having dropped my daughter off at work. It is a beautiful spring day and finally things are blooming. The world looks wonderful, colorful and full of promise.

I saw a sign, hand-painted on plywood with white paint, “You are beautiful.”

What does it mean to be beautiful? Why is it that so many people have a hard time seeing their own beauty (myself included). How do we convince people that they are beautiful?

Much has been written about girls who want to look like fashion models. I don’t need to repeat that here. If all people are created b’tzelem elohim, in the image of G-d, why can’t we be happy with the way we look? Why can’t we see ourselves the way G-d does, through the lens of lovingkindness? Or even the way the sign painter sees us, “You are beautiful”?
This beauty comes with a sense of humility. Hod comes from the Hebrew root hoda’ah, to give thanks. But it also means to acknowledge or to admit. How is this humility? It means admitting that there is something beyond ourselves, that we are not “full of ourselves.” As we yield, it is about making room for something more. It should not be confused with weakness or a lack of self-esteem. Lack of self esteem is what makes so many of those young girls not recognize their beauty.

It is about saying thank you to G-d. When I get up in the morning and recite, “Modah ahi” that is an act of thank you, praise and humility. When I read ee cummings,

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

I am awed and humbled. When I stand on the bimah facing the ark and read the sign, “Da lifney atah omeid, Know before whom you stand”, even in the masculine formulation, that is an act of humility.

The mystics talked about tzitzum, about contraction. When we make space for something beyond ourselves that contraction is an act of humility. Humility is not compromise, it is the acknowledgement that there are some battles that we fight through the simple act of humility.

Humility is modesty. Moses was humble. (I almost didn’t become a rabbi over mistranslating that word, I said he was humbled!). Micah teaches us what G-d requires of us, “To justly, to love mercy and walk humbly with your G-d.” it is recognizing how small you are which allows you to realize how large you can become.

As I walk outside in this beautiful world today, may I recognize the beauty and the divine spark in everyone and may I be humble like Moses.

Yesterday was Day 28. Today is the last day of week four. We are nearly a month into the counting. Have I made every day count? Have the blog posts been interesting, enjoyable, practical? As I was talking about yesterday, it is becoming a habit, a routine. It is part of the discipline and becoming part of my core, my deep spirituality. Will it endure? Will it last?

Today is about malchut b’netzach, the sovereignty of endurance, the kingship of eternity. Simon Jacobson points out, “Sovereignty is the cornerstone of endurance…. is indeed a tribute and testimony to the majesty of the human spirit.”

I have been spending a lot of time thinking about this question. What makes one person survive a horrible, life changing event and come out the other side willing to work for the good of humanity? What makes someone else experience something similar and come out bitter, withdrawn, depressed? Victor Frankel, himself a Holocaust survivor, had some of it right in his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, talks about it this way:

“We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”

But can we always choose our attitude? I am not sure. Many of the people who survived the Holocaust and can talk about it now share an idea with us. That they knew as a child that they were loved, and that because of that love, that security, they knew it would be OK.

Simon Jacobson asks questions as part of his reflections for the Omer, “Is my endurance dignified? Does it bring out the best in me? When faced with hardships do I behave like a king or queen, walking proudly with my head up, confident in my G-d-given strengths, or do I cower and shrivel up in fear?”

There are days I do cower in fear. There are days I would prefer to curl up under the covers and not get up and not see the world’s problems or feel that I have to deal with them. Then I remember that G-d is with me, will lighten my burden and give me rest, that G-d is my strength and song, that I am not alone and that it is G-d who neither slumbers nor sleeps so I don’t have to be afraid. Sometimes I have to say those words on automatic pilot to reassure myself.

I would add to Jacobson’s questions, does it bring out the best in others? Do I help others overcome their hardships? Am I mensch? What cause do I feel so passionate about coming out of my own life experiences, out of my own bitter pain, that I am willing to fight for that cause. That question I think I can answer. I am willing to fight for a woman’s right to pray as a Jew, I am willing to fight for peace, particularly in the Middle East, I am willing to fight for gun control, for immigrant rights, for women’s rights. I am finding my voice, and in the process finding my meaning.

Last week I was asked to do an interview for the Daily Herald. It was published today. http://www.dailyherald.com/article/20130423/news/704239950/ Only a fraction of what I said about living in Israel versus living in Boston was printed. It was one of the hardest interviews I have ever done. But I was uniquely qualified, I have lived in Israel, I have lived in Boston, I have even run the Boston Marathon. I froze when asked, “Were you afraid living in Boston or living in Israel.” Yes and no. It is complicated. I cried. I love both places. Most of the time I have not lived in fear and yet, and yet, I did not always feel safe in either place. Am I betraying places I love if I say that? Can I reach the place that Israelis get to every day? Life must continue. We get on the bus, go to the movies, go grocery shopping, send our kids to school. Is there ever a guarantee that we are safe? Unfortunately no. But we can’t give into the fear. That is what the terrorists want.

Afterwards I was reminded of Queen Esther who demonstrated a nobility in her response to the threat of killing all the Jews. She found her voice after Mordechai implored her, “If you remain silent relief will arise from another place, And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”

That is Frankel’s search for meaning, that is living out this idea of the sovereignty of endurance. It isn’t easy. What cause are you willing to fight for?

Today is Day 27 of the counting of the omer. Now is when it gets hard. It is hard to keep writing day after day and find something new to say. It is hard to make these new routines stick. The last two posts were emotionally draining. I thought that writing about the bird feeder and how the birds praise G-d was going to be easy. It turned out it was anything but easy. For me, it was an important piece of writing, one that on reflection you can see the signs of automatic writing, that which comes from deep within. Who is doing the praising? Of G-d, of me, of both? Can I hear the praise? Of the birds? Of my parents? Of friends and family, congregants and co-workers? Of myself? Can I sustain that feeling that even if my parents were not good at saying that they loved me or were proud of me, that in fact they were?

I think that is what today is about. Today is about bonding in endurance, yesod b’netzach. Another translation would be the foundation of eternity. We are one week out from the Boston Marathon bombing. If I learned anything training for Boston through the years, it is about discipline and bonding. I need that strong foundation that comes with running through the winter snow and ice. I need the routine that comes from lacing up my shoes at dawn. Bonding is about creating that routine. Weight Watchers has been talking a lot about that lately. This month’s routine is about remembering to put an activity monitor on. Remembering to put the gym shoes in the car. Planning ahead. Making this a routine.

Spirituality requires discipline too. It is about remembering to say Modah Ani when I first get up. It is about remembering to say Ufros Aleinu and the Sh’ma when I go to bed. It is about lighting Shabbat candles, about saying Kiddush, about keeping kosher, about living intentionally.

Writing is like that. Once upon a time, what seems like a long, long time ago, Anita Diamant told me that if I was going to write a book, I would need the discipline of writing every day. It is the foundation of good writing. As it turns out, it also the foundation of good spirituality. It is part of how I glimpse eternity and am bonded with the One who exists forever, the Compassionate One, full of lovingkindness and grace.