I’m on an airplane and Austin is getting smaller.
My eyes are still wet from all the weeping.
Full disclosure, I often weep when the wind blows.
Hava Nashira is like it’s always windy.
I recorded every note, so I can relive the experience
every day until the next one comes along and
my need for a reset has gotten as big as it can.
How amazing to be in a place where even the coffee sings.
It’s because we live here too, Eli said.
Here in this geographical place that gave me all the fears.
Fears it wouldn’t be the same.
Fears the lake wouldn’t be as good.
Fears no one would remind me to check the drawers
before I went home because there’s always the possibility
I left something behind.
Fears I wouldn’t be able to build a lasagna
as tall as the sky and it still count as one lasagna!
Here, in this new place, if you leave something behind
and never call it is given away, so whatever you have lost
is a treasure for a new person. We have lost little here.
Oconomowoc will always be our Jerusalem.
Our place that we yearn for. Our home promised to us
by souls too long gone, and souls you could sit
and have coffee with. (but without the coffee.)
Oconomowoc will always be our Jerusalem.
But Hava Nashira thrives in the diaspora.
We are the people of song. The ringers in the congregation.
There’s nothing we can’t do when we open our mouths
They sent lightning to take us out.
But we just stayed indoors and it went away.
We are the lightning. We may sometimes cross our arms, but hey
whatever makes us comfortable It’s cool.
I’m on an airplane and Austin is getting smaller.
But not my heart. We’re going to need a bigger Texas to contain it.
We are a portable people who can lift our souls in
any place we choose to plop down our water bottles.
So I’ll say next year in Oconomowoc but be satisfied
with next year in any place we set up our musical tent.
I hope to leave things in drawers in any facility that will have us.
Hava Nashira…we’re coming for you.
Let the skies light up as we approach.