I move through predawn darkness,
star crusted sky fills my view.
Is there less wonder because I have seen the sky before?
Is there less beauty?
No and no.
Beyond the static beauty,
the runner who runs this morning
is not the runner who ran last week.
The lightening flashes
thunder rends the air
Wind howls
almost covering the warning siren.
Is there less awe because I have seen storms before.
Is there less a frisson of fear spicing my amazement?
No and no.
Beyond the raging glory of the storm,
the one who rides out the storm
is not who sat in the darkness last month.
The green silence of deep forest surrounds me.
The stillness of ancient trees
the distant drip of water
the gentle sursuration of leaves far above.
Is the peace diminished because I have hiked in this wood before?
I there less of a sense of connection with what is truly real?
No and no.
Beyond the living whole of the forest
The one who hikes the hidden trails
is not the one who did so an autumn ago.
I pray the morning liturgy,
alone,
wrapped in tallit and t’fillen.
The seal on each blessing the same as the day before.
Is the power of the prayer set aside because I have prayed it before?
The beauty of the dance between kevah and kavenah diminished?
No and no.
Beyond the comforting song of prayer
The one who prays this morning
is not the one who prayed yesterday.
I roll the scroll back.
Past Devarim,
Bemidbar
Vayikra
Shemot
To the beginning
I say
Bereisheit
once more.
I read again through the ancient stories
the explanations that once satisfied my ancestors
the laws that need new meaning and new application
and I ask
Is there any less wisdom because I have read the text before?
Are the truths contained somehow less true and revelatory?
No and no.
Beyond the the eternal story of creation, revelation, and redemption,
The one who reads this year
is not the one who read last year.
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