To be awkward is to be authentic.

Passover is a little crazy for me this year.

I’m struggling for meaning.

I’m struggling for relevance.

Everything feels up for question right now, for many personal and global reasons.

I’m grateful for my beloveds, who are holding me in ths moment when I lack clarity.

I’m grateful for the beautiful green world, the a sweet affection of our cats, and the calm blessing of living on a quiet street.

I’m blessed to be able to spin my legs on a bicycle, to bask in the sounds of music and to rest when I am tired.

And I am grateful for a message I’d scrawled in my notebook a few years ago when still in the deep dark of the pandemic, which has come back to remind me now that I can only be where I am:

To be awkward is to be authentic.

So I am sitting in my awkwardness ths Passover, missing pieces and skipping over that which I cannot find relevant and paying attention to my body and heart a lot more deeply. I am sitting with the cognitive dissonance that comes from being tribal, and clinging to the hope that comes from being human, and if this is all I can do, it will be enough.

Wishng all my friends who celebrate a zissen Pesach — a sweet Passover.