Moon Moment

 

As I stare into the hovering Hunter Moon that hangs enormous in the night sky, I feel overtaken and subsumed. In an instant, its arrow of light pierces my being and fixes me to the earth. I am tethered to that white orb in the black sky.  Even though I know that my blood surges and my synapses spark, I am totally immobilized and still.  As the moon circumnavigates the planet and pulls at the oceans, it appears a stolid power in the black sky. The Hunter Moon has entranced me within his white light.

Stasis rules. The moment is pure; the light is pure. Nothing shatters or shudders. No cloud moves to foreshadow a next moment. All stimuli cease. On earth there are no fast-moving fires, no overflowing floods, no external disorders, or internal conflicts.  In myself, I feel neither sorrow nor joy, neither regret nor satisfaction. The silent, sanctified light cleanses and purifies. My body, held fast to earth, is yet appended to the moon. I am a moment of light, stretched for eons, and stuck for an instant in time. My being is held balanced within a note of eternity. I thank the moon that blesses me with a moment of clear, unadulterated nothingness.

Marsha H.  10/15/22

Moon Time

       The full moon looks splendid. I will be watching her move across the sky for a while. 
       I talk to the moon. I tell her my troubles. I quietly listen for her advice. Eventually I fall asleep under her light and dream of better days ahead.  

Georgia P

The Goose

 

My, you are a perfect specimen, perfectly designed and honed through countless ages of evolution to match the specific qualities needed for the completion of your task like a streamlined missile streaking towards its target or a dart to the bullseye! You are heavy enough to resist the air currents but light enough to ride on the wind, instinctively counterbalancing the gusts with countless calculations. Strong muscles propel you forward, fixed on your destination, never distracted and never quitting your mission. We humans copy your slipstream choreography in cycling events using the vacuum of the strongest rider as you use the strength of the lead goose in your V shaped formation. Do you know that imitation is the sincerest form of complement? Your body is oily to keep you warm as you fly through freezing winter skies. If this plane malfunctioned, I would plummet to my death, while you would just glide down to make a soft landing, adjust your plumage and resume your flight.
Goodbye for now Goose as you rise up and away with your flock in tow. I hope that our paths cross again.
          Just as the flock was disappearing over the horizon they veered back. Returning, the lead Goose came right up to my window, pulled one of his feet from its landing gear position and stuck a post-It note on the glass before me. It read thus:
 
          Dear Human,
                         I don’t believe that you are a hunter, so I am going to give you a chance to live. The pilot has an open bottle of Grey Goose in the cockpit, and it is already one third finished! I saw him open it. Tell the stewardess quickly; she will know what to do. This is not the first time.
          Good luck!
          THE GOOSE
 
          I quickly called over Amy, the stewardess and told her that someone had seen a bottle of vodka in the cockpit.
          “Oh no, not again. I thought that he had it under control” she said. Pushing her beret down on her brow ready for a fight, she stormed off to the cockpit. I heard some commotion as Amy wrestled the bottle from the pilot and ran to the bathroom to dispose of it. She returned with a pot of black coffee from the pantry, yelling at him to drink it down or she would call the FAA. The pilot did as she asked, pleading with her to keep her quiet and save his career. Our plane made a soft landing at the airport. For a minute there, I thought that my goose was cooked.
 

October 22’ Jim

The Music of Geese

 
    Justin.
    A little tyke on his little trike, making his way in a world he knew nothing about. A five-year-old, my five-year-old on our nightly trek to trigger remote controlled spotlights that illuminated driveways and garage entrances in the back alleys of our neighborhood home in Forest Hills, New York, just a few clicks east – as the goose flew – over the once great city named Manhattan, a place more known to most as simply, New York City.
Justin was enamored with the magic, the childlike charm of spotlights illuminating him on center stage as he pedaled past. For me, forty-five at the time, living in a world I thought I had known enough about, it was a moment of peace, tranquility and pure innocence. Disney could not have provided such unadulterated delight, the joy of a child simply engaging sensors that set his senses alight.
    Alive.
    I smiled.
    A lot.
    A lot more than I do now in these troubled times in which we remain entrenched.
    Once upon a time, we knew peace, and upon that time, I believe that we never truly acknowledged that amity as we could have.
    Geese are peace.
    Untroubled, it seems, they travel in harmony, sunshine bound in synchrony.
    A fair-weathered friends symphony.

     One April eve as the sun had nearly set and the garage lights provided our light at nearly night, Justin pedaled on, his eyes aglow with the wonders of technology that made him a magician, I looked above to the fading pink sky, my eyes alight with wonder as an endless cadre of geese returned home, signaling the onset of summer, my forever favorite season.
For me, there is no greater peace than the music of geese.
 

Tom

Oct 2022

Flying Geese

 

Flying Geese remind me of the following:

This is a flying geese quilt pattern. The spiritual meaning of flying geese represents determination, purposeful movement and productivity, quest fulfillment and wisdom. (whatismyspiritanimal.com)

According to the Bible the wild goose in addition to the dove is a symbol of the Holy Spirit. (Baylor.edu)

Getting back to flying geese quilt, there are many patterns for this type of quilt. No one knows the origins of the pattern, there are many theories and folk tales about this pattern.

There is a large goose family living in the cemetery nearby along with squirrels and bunnies and birds. They eat the bugs and decaying flowers from the graves as a natural form of recycling.

The above right lower picture is a quilt from the 1840-50 and is on display in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC in the American Wing and is a compilation of many types of fabric used at that time. Obviously the sewist of this beautiful quilt did not waste any extra fabric.

As a sewist myself I truly appreciate the time, money, patience, the cutting out of squares and triangles and rectangles to the point of madness and wresting with sewing the darling together and the meditative quality in sewing a masterpiece. I have made quilts like this and it is my hope that the family I gifted it to keeps it in their family forever as an heirloom.

Honk, Honk…………………………….Honk, Honk……………………….Whoosh.

 

Georgia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Freya

 

It was an ordinary day of fighting giants and slaying fire breathing dragons. Freya and her two kitties Aster and Adam were tired and it was self-care time.  

“Let’s go home kitties, I am beat.” Freya breathlessly commanded. Meow, meow the kitties answered in a sleepy voice. 

Back at the castle she took a warm bath, had an ambrosia drink and went into a deep sleep. Kitties curled up next to her as usual and the two little balls of fur fell fast asleep. 

Tomorrow is a new day. 

Freya woke up and had her usual breakfast. Smoked fish that she shared with Aster and Adam. Cup of lemon tea and fresh bread.  

Since she is a goddess, she spends a lot of time listening to the petitions of her followers. The day is usually filled with requests of love, fertility, winning battles and delaying death, finding gold, doing magic, casting spells and divining the future.  Also, since her father is Njord the sea god some petitioners asked she put a good word in for them for a good days catch.  

Another ordinary day of a working goddess.  

Sitting on her throne with Aster and Adam curled at her feet she saw a young mother with a baby passing by. Freya felt deep sadness; she did not know who her mother was. No one knows. No one will tell her even if they knew because her father Njord the sea god would drown them for telling.  

Freya sort of remembered the softness and smell of her mother’s skin. She sort of remembered being breast fed. She sort of remembered how much her mother loved her. She sort of remembered her mother go missing never to be found again.  

That night Freya had a dream. Nerthus her mother came to her. Her mother spoke to her. “I have been waiting for you to think of me, I am no longer here on earth. There was a terrible event and no one told you. My body was never found. I have been watching you and I love you so much. I never wanted to leave you. I am always with you but I am restless. Find my body for a proper burial. I love you.” And her mother was gone. 

Freya woke up suddenly, she needed answers. Freya set out to the sea to see her father Njord.  

“Come Aster and Adam time to set up the chariot.” Freya called. Aster and Adam dutifully complied. The kitties grew to size of horses and the horsemen harnessed up the kitties. Aster and Adam hissed and growled impatient to move. “Onward kitties, off to the seaside, quickly.” Freya shouted. 

As goddesses can do she flew her chariot to the sky in a moment and sliced through the clouds landing on the beach. With a conch shell she bellowed a low sound.  

There appeared Njord. “Freya, I am so happy to see you. Are you OK, do you need something,” Njord sounded concerned. 

“Father, I had a dream about mother, she said she died in a terrible event and is no longer alive. She wants me to find her body so she can rest in peace. “Njord was stunned. He was silent. He dropped his head low. Freya was confused. “Father?”  

Njord swam away with no other words. Freya couldn’t follow her father.” 

“What is this mystery?” Freya yanked the harassed cats and flew away back through the clouds landing in the castle yard. Aster and Adam, as magical kitties, reduced to rat chasing size. The horse men put the chariot and harnesses away. 

Freya decided to do some astral traveling to find her mother.  

Njord was so ashamed, how can he tell Freya, his beloved daughter that it was his carelessness that killed Freya’s mother Nerthus. Freya’s mother was half mortal. She had the physical strength of one hundred men and marksmen with bows and arrows. She could conjure fire with her mind. But she cannot breathe under water like Njord. Njord mistakenly left Nerthus in a cave and the cave filled with water and there was no way out. It was Njord’s carelessness that killed her.  

As Freya fell asleep, she beckoned for her mother. Nerthus appeared in glowing white robes. “Go to the black cave. That is where I died.” Freya heard her mother, woke up and immediately left with an army of loyal soldiers.  

They arrived at the black cave and at low tide Freya and seven soldiers they battled sea weed, poisonous snakes, smelly dead shell fish and a blue monster with bulging eyes and green slime dripping out of his mouth. The blue monster knew it was Freya. The blue monster said “I have been guarding Nerthus for you; it is time to put her bones to rest.”  “Thank you.” said Freya.  

A small glowing light from a florescent fish swam flicking its tail to keep its light on. Glowing fish have been keeping vigil for a very long time waiting for the bones to be retrieved.  

There they were the bones of Nerthus. The soldiers gracefully with the honor of a queen gathered Nerthus bones and placed them in a green velvet box.  

Off they went to the castle. Freya planned the best most fabulous incredibly distinguished and noble funeral. The entire countryside was there. Except Njord. He was too ashamed to show up. 

After the official mourning time was over Freya went back to the ocean. She called for her father. Nothing. She waited a whole day and night calling for him. A whale showed up and carried her petitions to her father.  

Njord showed up with his trident.  Freya looked forlorn. “Talk to me father,” she asked.  

Njord explained what happened and cried so much that waves and waves of salty tears as he spoke. “I am so sorry Freya; I never wanted to hurt Nerthus.”  

Nerthus’ spirit materialized on the ocean, Njord and Freya saw her clearly. Nerthus heard the whole story. “Be at peace Njord, I forgive you.” “Freya I love you and I am always with you, call on me when you need me.” With that Nerthus floated up and out of sight disappearing into the guiding light of heaven.  

Freya and Njord changed that day. Freya’s mystery was solved about her mother and Njord was forgiven. Each went back to respective lives and vowed to spend more time with each other. Freya went back to goddess duties and Njord went back to managing the ocean. 

The End (for now) 

Georgia P

The Sukkot Tent

 

The cool evenings that suggest a change of season harken in the fall. Pumpkin carving, apple picking and stomping through multi-covered leaves on the way to school, are all Autumn traditions. Cooking again seems like a novel thing to do, as old spices are disposed of and new batches are purchased. Concord grapes freshly picked from the vine are greedily eaten or cooked and sealed in Mason jars turning them into a delicious jelly to sweeten the long winter ahead. Winter pears are harvested and made into pear stew. Apple delicacies are a seasonal favorite, and the scintillating smell of freshly baked apple pie is irresistible.

A Protestant carpenter, a Catholic carpenter and a Jewish Rabbi walk into a SUKKOT Tent. No, this is not the beginning of an ethnic joke conceived in poor taste for cheap laughs, preying on the prejudices of the audience and at the expense of one of the characters, parading thinly veiled racism as humor, but merely my remembrances of my first weeks in the Carpenters Shop at NYU Medical Center. The Rabbi had come to inspect the annual autumnal construction of the tent for the holiday of SUKKOT. He spoke to George, my senior partner, and left soon after, seemingly pleased with their plan. The setting for our tent was a quiet section of the Gimbel Garden, the funds for which had been donated many years before by the Gimbel family of department store fame. The garden was a quiet enclave of lush green flowering plants and shade trees with comfortable benches that were accessed from The Rusk Institute where patients and visitors to the hospital would come for a respite before or after a session of physical therapy while goldfish, turtles and tadpoles meandered through the marble pond silently enjoying their swim as brightly colored parrots  sat in large golden bird cages, never trying to escape and seemingly well aware that they had an excellent situation.

George was a tall stoic Scottish carpenter who had come to America and accepted this job at the hospital. He was an exceptional journeyman and had specialized in finishing woodwork on passenger ships. The interior of ships built in Scotland, like most ships of the time had few straight level lines but were instead an endless collection of radiuses and curves. In addition, George worked with hard woods which were expensive, and precision with attention to detail was imperative to avoid wasting material and staying in the good graces of the Foreman to stay employed. He was well over six feet tall with grey hair and black eyebrows, and he rarely smiled. Like Atlas, he carried his tall lank frame around as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Although severe in his demeanor George was a kind man, as long as he was not crossed. He tried to teach me from his vast knowledge of skills. I had been paired with him to essentially do the bull work, preparing the materials he needed, such as lifting steel doors onto A-frames, or moving heavy lumber or plywood into position. Today we had a lighter assignment in having constructed the SUKKOT Tent for the Jewish holiday of that name. The tent was constructed out of long aluminum poles which fit into junctions and were held together with thick Allen screws forming a large rectangular shape. A heavy dark blue canvas cloth wrapped around the inside of these poles sliding down through gussets in the canvas over the top of each vertical pole and dropping down about six inches until they reached horizontal poles. Silvery writing in Hebrew and pictures of the harvest were inscribed on the interior side of the canvas. The tent was about twelve feet wide by thirty feet long and the top was open to the sky. The Rabbi had explained that it was necessary to be able to see the stars of the night sky when one looked up. Stalks of bamboo, about thirteen feet in length, were placed across the width of the tent about three inches apart and extending a few inches over each side of the tent . I later found out that this tent represented both a harvest feast, thanking God for the harvest’s bounty, and was also a rustic remembrance of the time spent in the desert. One of the last steps when our work was almost completed was to install a board attached perpendicularly to the ceiling joists for the electricians to add a long fluorescent light that they secured with screws running the extension cord to an exterior garden outlet. I called them to come when we had everything prepared. After the Electricians were done, Environmental Services were summoned to supply long wooden folding tables and chairs. This portable furniture was used all over the hospital for various occasions. Next came the Pastoral Office who sent people to decorate with shiny tinsel like representations of fruits and vegetables and other geometric designs, that hung down from the joists and bamboo. Lastly the Catering Department would supply hot coffee and tea urns and food on each day of observance. When the holiday ended about a week later, we returned to disassemble the structure and pack everything away for the next year.

The following year George and I worked together again constructing the tent but I took a more active role in the construction and when the Rabbi came for his inspection, George referred him to me. I conversed with him and later made the requested alterations. That was the last year that George and I worked together on the tent as his health seemed to be failing. The following year I had been given a new partner to help me.

As the years rolled by Rabbis came and went. There were tall Rabbis and short Rabbis, young Rabbis and old Rabbis, fat Rabbis and skinny Rabbis, serious Rabbis like George, and jovial light-hearted Rabbis. Each man had a slightly different interpretation as to how the tent should be constructed or modified. Their requests were always treated with respect and adopted if practical.  One Rabbi noted that it was difficult for visitors in wheelchairs to enter the tent with the impediment of the pole that ran across the threshold. To solve this problem, I built a shallow ramp with a notch on the bottom to straddle the pipe so that the wheelchairs could roll over it unimpeded. The Rabbi approved of my solution, and I saved the ramp with the tent for future use after the holiday was over. There were a few occasions when a Rabbi whom I was not familiar with would stop by and make suggestions for an alteration. After implementation, I had learned that he was visiting a patient and was not affiliated with the hospital, and therefore did not have the authority to give me any instructions at all. From then on, I politely asked for credentials before making any changes.

One year before the holiday, the foreman asked me to meet a truck on First Avenue that was delivering a new tent. I went over there and saw a medium sized white truck with the name Sukkah Depot emblazoned on the side of it. Out of the cab jumped a group of young men neatly dressed in traditional garb who quickly loaded the boxes onto my wagon as well as their own cart and helped me bring the new tent to where it was to be constructed. This tent was a modern modular design made of aluminum frames with grey Formica on the outside and wood grained Formica on the interior. The sections locked into one another creating a very sleek modern style. The tent even had a window and a double door to enter! The men explained that it was designed with brackets to accept wooden 2’x4’s around the perimeter at the top with additional brackets for joists to run the width of the tent. This was definitely an improvement over the old canvas tent.

One day while the tent was being set up, a young maintenance man came along and introduced himself as Eyal. He was a Moroccan Jew and he asked if I could save him some small task to perform before it was completed. Eyal explained that it would be a good mitzvah for him. I wasn’t familiar with the term but it wasn’t every day that someone offered to help you do your work, so I promised to call him. As we were finishing up and putting in the cross braces, I called Eyal on the shortwave radio, who was very appreciative for the call, and he came right away to help. I supplied EYAL with a screw gun which he used to screw in the last cross braces while thanking me profusely for remembering his request.

A few years later Eyal joined the Carpenters Shop and each year he and I installed the SUKKOT Tent together. When I was retiring Eyal was now the lead carpenter for installation of the tent, and he had his own helper. Construction of the tent was a good mitzvah for him, and it seemed appropriate to me that a Jewish carpenter was installing the tent as this task was more than just a work assignment.

To all those who are celebrating this upcoming holiday, please enjoy it!

 

Jim

October 2022