Elul

For Parshat Nitzavim

Elul

Despite the deluge of noise in the world

it is Elul.

and if the world is tumultuous,
Stav settles in quietly,
one day at a time.

The days are growing shorter;
nights are cooler, crisper
and the lonely call of the cricket is the music of the night.
Plants are going to seed,
an offering to the birds;
and they flock to feast before the cold arrives.
Pumpkins ripen orange on the vine,
and squirrels scurry on their hunt for acorns.

Mist hovers over the lake at dawn,
and so begins the search for sweatshirts
for soon the first frosts will arrive,
stealthily cloaking the grass with a cloud of crystals;
a prelude of the winter to come.

Night by night the Elul moon wanes,
on the cusp of Tishrei.

Inside a shul, someone carefully dresses the scrolls in white.
Machzorim, set down neatly, await hands to open them.
The cry of the Shofar is heard each morning,
while in the Torah,
The People still wait at the border of The Land.
Moses finally begins to accept his fate.
For now, there are no snakes,
no Pharaoh,
no thunder,
no desert revolts,
There are neither floods nor rainbows.
We put the blessings and the curses behind us.

It is quiet.
and from a still, quiet place a soft voice whispers to you,
“Stand tall.”
That same voice asks you to pivot.
“Lashuv”
Perhaps, some would say return,
but what is a return without that first small move?
An awareness.
A glance inwards.
A blossom of  thought.
An inspection of tones.
A spark of understanding.
The will to pivot, small but powerful,
nudges you gently.

And so you slowly pivot,
 mirroring the seasons,
The seasons circle us as we circle them
and like the seeking tendrils of the pumpkin,
we all quietly seek the light