Embodiment

Kol Nidre Chant
By Kohenet Keshira HaLev Fife 
 

Kol nidre is not for beating our chests

Kol nidre is for returning to our best

Kol nidre is for releasing every vow

Kol nidre come to presence here and now

At-one-ment, at-one-ment, reflect and take it slow 

At-one-ment, at-one-ment, release and let it go

At-one-ment, at-one-ment, return to where we start 

At-one-ment, at-one-ment, aligning with our hearts
 

If you can find stillness,

the jasmine will night-bloom in your direction

and the breeze

will carry its sacred exhalation of perfume

toward you.

Breathe,

the moon will cascade waves of radiance

downward,

drop her silver robes,

glow.

You will awaken,

overtaken by a love

that asks no permission,

golden particles rising

beneath your skin.

all of existence

longs to be an offering.

eternity is a constant whisper

wishing to be listened to.

This is the beginning.

This is only the beginning.

Let it in.

The Gift

By Rachel Kann

Don't I know this

Feeling of homelessness.

And don't I know

How real the loneliness

In your bones is.

Slow down and notice 

The gloriousness afforded;

The view through the newly-opened window 

Of your broken heart.

This gift of clear vision.

Think on

The sacred company 

You're in:

Has there been one instance

Of wisdom 

In the history

Of this misbegotten existence

Elicited from anything but heart-brokenness?

It is an act of grace

To shatter the packaging,

To peel the encasement,

To reveal your true soul’s face and,

Say, with outstretched arms,

Here, here is the shape of my heart.

There is nothing left 

but to be swept 

away by love.

In the traditional text of Hashkivenu, we ask that a shelter of peace is spread over ourselves, our loved ones and people around the world. We ask for restful and restorative sleep, and for the gift of waking up to a new day. As you read, imagine a blanket covering your body and take a deep breath as you move closer to ending your day.

Hashkivenu by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat of Bayit 

The exterior's a little shabby,

could use a coat of paint.

A bit worn after a hard year:

not a lot of curb appeal.

Most people walk right by.

Not you: you see

the mezuzah in the doorway,

the light in the living room.

You see my heart, tender

and afraid no one will ever want—

Tell me again that I'm worthy

even when I feel most broken.

Tell me again that my strength

is beautiful, and makes me whole.

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יהו''ה, שׁוֹמֵר עַמּוֹ יִשְׂרָאֵל לָעַד:

Baruch atah YHVH, shomer amo Yisrael la’ad.

Blessed are You, YHVH, Who keeps watch over Your people Israel.

Dear One, you love me so much

you give me your Torah

for argument and play

waltzing and conversation

from one life to the next.

Your Torah nourishes me,

familiar as the womb.

Wrap me tight in your Torah

like a newborn. Laugh in delight

when I learn to break free.

Your Torah lights up my eyes,

fuses my heart with my choices.

Give me just one letter

to suck like candy, like manna

changing flavor on my tongue.

Tell me a true story again

about who I used to be

or who I might yet be

-- like you, always becoming

who you are becoming.

Beloved, draw me close.

I've been scattered:

melt me until we mingle.

I want to come home in you.

Choose me again. Don't stop.

Baruch atah YHVH, ohev amo Yisrael.

Blessed are You YHVH, Who loves Your people Yisrael.

-by Rabbi Rachel Barenblat of Bayit