Friday, December 31, 2010

A Single Wish

I woke up this morning thinking about my single status and the coming New Year. Then, I realized that my wish for a first-class man is in the palm of our hands!

This year, I am asking for *your* help. I am reaching out to you, my community of friends and family to hold this Single Wish for me in your hearts.

Using our modern technologies, please sift through your Blackberry and iPhones, through your social networks and family connections and send me the names and e-mails of your choicest men who long to be in relationship with this petite package of passion, personality and philosophy.

I know you know someone!

Please call (202 731 2273) or email me directly: with the subject line: A Single Wish

Send me the name (s) of a few good men and tell me why you think they would be a good match.

You know me but do you know who am I looking for?

I am in search of an open hearted person who is accepting and inclusive in his world view.

A generous person who gives of his time, his money and his expertise to enhance the quality of life for those he loves.

A positive person who laughs a lot, likes to have fun, and is not afraid to be silly.

Did I mention the music? Singing, playing music, enjoying music is a plus.

Is there a reward involved?


What is it?

The reward will be commensurate with the gift bestowed.

Check my upcoming *Spiritualetters* to see what happens when we focus on this Single Wish.

Friday, December 24, 2010

My Mother's Sabbath Candles

Among the smiles, among the tears, of my childhood’s sweet and bitter years
There’s a picture that my memory fondly frames
And in it softly shine two tiny flames.
by Jack Yellen

Last night, I discovered the sheet music to the song I played on the piano for my mother’s pleasure. “My Mother’s Sabbath Candles” copyright 1950.

The black and white cover never faded, and for seventy five cents, I made an excellent investment into my spiritual virtual wallet.
My fingers know the piece by heart; the words are etched into my vaulted memory bank.

The Sabbath was born inside me two decades before I bought that musical notation in a store along Tremont Avenue in the Bronx. I experienced the rhythm of the Sabbath while wading in the water of my mother’s womb.The first genetic text messaging sent from the Divine produces a body activated timer response just as the sun descends into the evening’s shade. It automatically reminds me to pause faithfully, and to recreate the fire and the magic of my mother’s Sabbath candles.

My mother lived ninety five years and fulfilled this commandment four thousand nine hundred and forty times. For twenty two years, one thousand, one hundred and forty four times, I witnessed her lighting and praying over the Sabbath candles every Friday night. When I got married and left the home of my childhood, I took the ritual of lighting the Sabbath candles with me.

For their last eight years as seniors, my parents lived in Philadelphia in a one bedroom apartment that included a small square kitchen where only the appliances lived. With no breakfast area, the appliances shared the space with the family’s European candelabras on a shelf built specifically for these holy ritual objects.

The week before my mother died, I stood next to her in this kitchen as we lit the Sabbath candles together again. She leaned towards me as she waved her hands in front of the candles to usher in the Divine light. With her eyes closed, her mouth mumbling the customary blessing and her heart crying out with silent grief, she continued the tradition of her lifetime. My father’s Yahrtzeit, the one year anniversary of his death, occurred the Sunday before this Sabbath night. My father’s spirit sneaked into the following week and stayed to bless and temper our Sabbath sorrow. He resided in the tears that fell into my mother’s apron. He sanctified the space that lingered in the room with no windows. The glow of the fire was his soul’s longing to be at home again.. Perhaps it was my mother’s longing to be at home in his soul. Or both.

My mother died the following Sabbath in the early morning hours before dawn. I was not there to light the Sabbath candles with her for that very last time. I wasn’t there, but I picture my heavenly father leaning towards her as they both waved their hands towards the Divine light. Her final prayer had been answered.

My Mother’s Sabbath Candles
That made our home so bright
That faithfully she lighted with a prayer each Friday night

Friday, December 17, 2010

The Quiet Mind of Winter

The quiet mind of winter has memories to offer.

Forced into solitude, we find an inner voice that speaks to our essence.

The reminders of years passed sit perched on the empty tree bough.

Another season and reason for reflection and seriousness.

Shall we accept the call to hibernate?

Friday, December 10, 2010


I am satisfied with my life today.

My state of contentment is maintained by the people I love and the people I have yet to love.

I have discovered that what I possess internally, and who I am authentically, is my key to happiness.

Satisfaction is a state of mind that I carry alongside my calendar to remind me that there is a time and a place for everything.

I substitute lack for the sanity I find in being satisfied.

Friday, December 3, 2010

The Maccabee Search: My Interpretation

What does it take for a human being to begin a search?

Imagine the Maccabees: They run towards the sanctity and safety of the Holy Temple. Fallen boards halt each footstep. The putrid smell of sacrificed pigs continues to melt above the simmering flame on the altar’s base. The damp, dark dungeon diminishes their vision and their dreams of reconciliation with their beloved spiritual home.

Yet, someone begins the search for light in this tomb of total blindness.

“Let us ignite the eternal light to bring back The Eternal One to us," a hopeful spirit spoke.

“Could a cruse of oil, blessed by the priests and sealed under their supervision, reside in this defiled space? And even if it did, how could we find it?" a skeptical spirit stuttered.

“Why don’t we just go home to our families and mourn the Temple’s disgrace?" a defeated spirit sighed.

No one knows how long it took the Maccabees to find that cruse of oil in the residual rubbish.

No one knows because no one cares how long the search took.

We only care that they found what they were looking for.

What does it take for a human being to start any search?

An inside miracle.