Last Tuesday / This Tuesday

77% Weekly Newsletter

Last Tuesday / This Tuesday

Last Tuesday.

I’m sitting in an Adirondack chair, my feet resting on a well-weathered log here in Sisters, Oregon. It’s my family’s annual week-long vacation at the same beautiful house we’ve rented for the past four summers. My favorite spot. Just above the little creek. Most of my worries are 153 miles away. ✧✧✧ This Tuesday. I’m sitting in my office desk chair, a bit flummoxed. Usually I’ve written the newsletter article weeks in advance. Usually. Not this week. I’m looking at a blank screen. ✧✧✧ Last Tuesday. So I’ll be ready when inspiration comes, I bring a blank sketchbook and a pen with me everywhere I go. I sketch what I see. ✧✧✧ This Tuesday. “Are you writing about something that happened in Sisters?” Jane asks from my office doorway. “Trying to. I thought inspiration would hit me last week, but it didn’t. No ideas came to me.” “That’s unusual.” “I know.” “Why don’t you write about that?” “Funny thing,” I say. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.” ✧✧✧ Last Tuesday. I’m proud of the pen-and-ink drawing. I’m especially proud because I know, technically, it’s not very good. It’s good to be proud of not being perfect. ✧✧✧ This Tuesday. The same goes for this article. It’s not great, but it’s sure good enough. Good enough is good enough.  

Truth Matters

I am standing in Kenya, with my left foot in the Northern Hemisphere and my right foot in the Southern. A line on the ground indicates the equator. Young men—asking for nothing, but hoping for tips—entertain and educate tourists, like me, about the Coriolis effect. They pour water into bowls with small holes at the bottom and let the water

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Stuff Gets To Me

✧✧✧ As I pack up to leave after my workout, someone asks me, “Hey, Rabbi, how are things going?” I’m not one for small talk. Especially after being called by my title. “Well,” I reply. “I’m sad.” “Why?” “I’m thinking about the girls who went to school in the morning in Minab, Iran—over a hundred of them—killed by a bomb.”

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My Letter to Habakkuk

✧✧✧ To my dearest pen pal, Habbakuk: First, let me say, no one remembers the prophets who did not deliver on the goods. Your predictions came true. And, 2500+ years later, you are still remembered. Do you remember Lenny, that guy? Kept going around Judea telling people “the goats will lay down in green pastures,” and, then, remember? It started

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77% Weekly Newsletter
77% Weekly Newsletter