If speech can help bring about world peace, let us talk until dawn. If writing can help anything, let’s type until our fingers bleed. May these words touch the ground of being, that the electricity of feelings may have a place to land, to find release.

An idea for a poem to be printed, folded up into paper airplanes, and thrown across the walls. All the walls:

"Dear Brother, I pray that you are safe. I find solace in your strength and heart. I give thanks for your love."

"Dear Sister, I pray that you are safe. I find solace in your strength and heart. I give thanks for your love."

"Dear Mother, I pray that you are safe. I give thanks for your nurturing, and for your love."

"Dear Father, I pray that you are safe. I give thanks for your nurturing, and for your love."

“Dear Son, I pray that you are safe. I give thanks for your support, and for your love."

“Dear Daughter, I pray that you are safe. I give thanks for your support, and for your love."

“Remember this sabbath day, and keep it holy.”

How do we end the cycles of violence in the world? Here’s a silly suggestion: put down our guns, and stop firing explosives at each other. I’ve heard that’s not possible. Many smart people have spoken at length on why that’s not possible. Dear Lord, on this prayerful sabbath, I pray I remain a fool.

I am Jewish. I am Buddhist. I am old. I am young. I am American. I am male. I am white. I am brother and son.

What a mess.

“Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy”

Violence has been part of the process of securing the freedom to express this messianic peace from the relative safety of my apartment in my American city. In doing so, brothers and sisters have fought and taken the lives of other brothers and sisters, that the cycles of violence continue.

What a mess.

I’ve been watching my clothes spin around in the dryer, thinking about what I can do or say that is worth anything amongst this endless cycle of voices, actions, reactions. Wondering if it’s better to keep my mouth shut. That doesn’t feel right either.

I step outside to move away from the smell of mold and the noise of the dryers. A beautiful bird, a yellow canary perches in a cage. The cage perched atop the hood of a beige car parked outside the laundromat where my clothes are drying.

A proud man comes out of his store to put a small dish of water inside the cage. The bird flutters.
“That’s a beautiful bird.”
“Oh yes. Changing now” he replies with a strong accent.
I look at the bird. Perhaps he’s referring to the white downy tufts protruding from the bird’s colored wing feathers. I was trying to guess what he meant.
“Changing ? His feathers?”
“No. The, uh…(pointing)”
“Oh, his cage. You’re changing his cage.”
“Yes. Then he is singing again.”

I take comfort in imagining that the man is Lebanese, and I am Israeli. And I think to myself, “This is good and this is holy. Here we are enjoying each other’s company, in peace.”

“Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy”

One popular interpretation of this mitzvah, this commandment, is to rest, to study, to pray, and to live in recognition that the messianic age of peace and perfection is already here.

I wonder if some fool ever thought that everyone could decide to do that all at the same time. Or thought that if everyone decided to do that one day, that perhaps they could do it every day? I would like to say thank you.