45 Bristles of Wisdom

He ran into the closet and closed the door behind him.

“Help! Help!” he said to the broom, waking it up. “You said that if I ever needed anything, I could come in here and ask. Well, I need help!”

The broom swayed between his fingertips. “Here I am,” it said.

“I need advice! What am I supposed to do? The meeting is in an hour, and they expect me to lead!” He tried to pace, but there wasn’t enough room in the closet. So he shuffled his feet. “I’ve never done this before! But they chose me anyway. And now, I’m supposed to prepare everything.” He looked around.

“I don’t even know why I agreed to this!” he continued. “Okay, I like to talk a lot. And yes, sometimes I help facilitate the flow of speakers in a meeting. But lead the whole thing? And do it by myself?”

If the broom could blink, it would. “Do you even want my help, or…?”

“And now all eyes will be on me! ‘Don’t worry, you got this!’ they all said to me. In a manner which, I may add, is not helpful! I mean, they aren’t validating my fears at all!”

The broom fell out of his slippery fingers and crashed against the shelf.

“Oh, I’m so nervous! I’m sorry, Magic Broom!”

“It’s okay,” said the broom. “I’m here for you, not my own comfort.”

“And did you hear what Candace said?” he continued. “She said I’m great at this! ‘Great,’ she called me. Was she lying?”

“Actually, no,” said the broom.

“Maybe with spreadsheets, I’m great,” he said, resuming his shuffling. “But managing people, and orchestrating a whole meeting, and getting everyone to focus and follow instructions? I can’t do that!”

“Maybe you can,” said the broom.

“Not you too!” he said, looking panicked. “I don’t think I can! I think I’m going to screw up! And everything will go horribly! And not only that… but then, they’ll find up that I’m a screw-up in life! I can’t even take care of a cat, she needed to be given away. I live alone in a bachelor pad, and the tomato sauce gets stuck on pans so long that eventually I have to give them away. And… and… last fall my mattress had fleas!” He grabbed the broom, confronting it. “You think these people are going to be okay with me when they find all that out?!”

“Maybe they won’t find out…” intoned the broom.

“Maybe not! But it’s true, and I know it!”

“Okay,” said the broom, with finality in its voice. “You’ve had your little moment in the broom closet. Now go back out there. You’re going to lead that meeting, whether you want to or not. And afterwards, you will forget that we even had this conversation, and you’ll probably want to host all future meetings, too.”

“You think so?” he asked, hopeful.

“What do I know? I’m just a broom!”

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to do this!”

And with that, he slowly opened the door, stood up tall, walked outside, and gently closed the door behind him.

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Today is forty-five days, which are six weeks and three days, of the Omer.

This story was written as part of a 49-day project of counting the Omer. Each day is associated with a pairing of Kabbalistic traits, or sefirot. In the merit of the Omer Count that I have counted today, may there be corrected whatever blemish I have caused in the sefirah Tiferet shebeMalkhut, Balance within Leadership. May I be cleansed and sanctified with the holiness of Above, and through this may abundant bounty flow in all the worlds. And may it correct our lives, spirits, and souls from all sediment and blemish; may it cleanse us and sanctify us with exalted holiness. Amen, Selah!