As we journey forward from the waning quarter moon of Av in the final days of this potent month on the Hebrew calendar, I have been supremely blessed to be immersed in the vast views of moonlit oceans and skyscapes on both east and west coasts, and many rides through the wide rolling golden California hills.
Av on the Hebrew calendar is a month of depth and longing, a month of intense heat in many regions in the world, and a month of the grim reality of destructive fire that we are experiencing in the Northern Hemisphere this summer. Av is a month when we actively mourn the destruction of the first and second temples of ancient times. A month that begins with descent and death, and turns toward new life and renewal so that we can once again newly experience divinity in our beings in the month of Elul. And the first half of Av is related to the elements of water within fire according to Rabbi Jill Hammer in her Book of Days, a time when the waters call to us from within as the fruits begin to fill with juice even in the high heat of summer.
Three weeks ago, I returned from our annual Torah Yoga Retreat, with new inspiration and energy from the time we spent extending and expanding our bodies. We created fields of song. We prayed and practiced in movement and in stillness. We studied, shared, witnessed and received the insights of our sages and of one another. We embodied many teachings from Rav Kook in our time together, including this one:
“The constant prayer of the neshama/ נשמה strives continually to move from hidden to revealed, to spread over all the forces of life of the spirit and of the vital soul, and all the powers of the life of the body.” - Rav Avraham Issac HaKohen Kook (1865-1935)
As Rav Kook so beautifully describes, our week at Isabella Freedman filled us up from inside to out, from head to toe, from our centers to the edges of our beings and beyond. Nourishing awareness of our souls in our bodies created new spaces within and opened new pathways for our Shabbat prayers to rise up, in song and silence, from the deep wells of our individual, collective and communal longings.
On the first day, we arrived and immediately dove into the velvety smooth waters of the lake and swam and swam and swam. A never ending immersion into the cool waters on a hot summer day. Then a lazy slow canoe ride with my friend Nancy, sharing what was on our hearts. We drifted by a regal blue heron perched upon a branch in the midst of the water, and it soared and circled around the lake when we came near. A gorgeous opening ritual and promise for the week to come - a week of diving into the waters of Torah, a week of laughter and joy watered by decades of friendship, a week of returning again and again to a place that nourishes our souls.
It is the long view in time that keeps us going back year after year to this sacred community of practice at our Torah Yoga retreats. Each year is another layer of immersion into the depths of the waters of embodied Torah study in community that nourish and sustain us. Our time together awakens new insights, new understandings, new openings into deep teachings about ourselves and our journeys as embodied souls in community.
We swim in the wide open lake (Mayim/מַ֖יִם), we take in the expanse of sky (Rakea/רָקִ֖יעַ), we walk every day with the tall trunks of maple trees that inspire us to gaze upward. The whole week I kept my softened attention on the long views into the distance, and the wide views of water, land and sky.
These tall trees, expansive vistas and awe-inspiring views (merchav/מֶּרְחָ֣ב) offer us a larger perspective to hold the glitchy moments of daily life in the much broader context of space and time. The Hebrew word 'expanse' is first mentioned in the story of creation with the word ‘Rakea/רָקִ֖יעַ’:
וַיֹּ֣אמֶר אֱלֹהִ֔ים יְהִ֥י רָקִ֖יעַ בְּת֣וֹךְ הַמָּ֑יִם
And Elohim said, “Let there be an expanse in the midst of the water"
Genesis 1:6
As many of you know, I am captivated by this word 'Rakea/רָקִ֖יעַ' as it appears in the body. How can we find more space within the limited vessel/container of our ever expanding body-beings? In the long reaches of our limbs. In the width of the chest at the front and back of our hearts. In the length of feet to fingertips in extended shapes. In the closed spaces of our knees and inner armpits when they open. Between the lower ribs and pelvic rim. In the lower belly. In the silent spaces between our sharings.
And then I remember. the widest expanse, with no limits, no edges or 'no end' existed before the creation of the world. This is the description in our mystical tradition of the Creator as ‘Ein Sof’/אֵין סוֹף, a name for God that means ‘without end'.
מִֽן־הַ֭מֵּצַר קָרָ֣אתִי יָּ֑הּ עָנָ֖נִי בַמֶּרְחָ֣ב יָֽהּ׃
From the narrow places of constriction I call out to you, in the expanse you answer me.
Psalms 118:5
The Rakea/רָקִ֖יעַ, Merchav/מֶּרְחָ֣ב, Ein Sof/אֵין סוֹ -- the expansive widest longest view - holds my sore body, my aching heart, the difficult truths about my own patterns and behavior that are hurtful to my loved ones. The Rakea/Merchav/Ein Sof holds the death of my best friend's doggy, the loss of identity in the face of aging and illness, our broken hearts as we witness the debilitating challenges we face as individuals and as a collective - the broken heart of this country, this planet, this world.
And just as we dive into the lake at Isabella Freedman, as we move through time in the summer months toward Elul, we gather all of these heartbreaks and dive into the larger body of water that will hold it all. Swim with the tzar/צַר of this world, as we are held in the soft velvety waters of merchav - the sweeping hills, waters and skys - also of this world.
And so, in my return home after the retreat, my soul kept seeking the wide open views. I took a ferry ride on the ocean and went to the beaches of the Atlantic. I visited the rolling green hills of Petaluma for my friend's annual outdoor ballet. I traveled to the wide long beaches at Point Reyes National Seashore, on the long winding roads that bring us to the edges of the coast to celebrate love at a wedding, to wade into the waters with family and friends. I returned again and again to a place beyond our limited land-locked perspectives - to the wide expanse of the sea.
The long views inspire awe. They inspire us to widen and soften our eyes and invite a larger perspective in space and in time. To rest in the gentle holding of the infinite. Deb Dana, in her book Anchored presents ways we can befriend our nervous system and create experiences, narratives and embodied practices that cultivate a pathway that returns us to states of regulation, calm and safety on a regular basis. She says,
“We are drawn to places where we experience awe. They become our awe environments…Look for a place in the natural world where you can feel that you are one being connected to a community of beings and connected to the planet. Once you find an awe environment, you can begin to regularly invite awe into your life...Moments of awe are truly autonomic-shaping experiences.” (pp.138-139)
And so, I send wishes for inviting the widest, longest views as we approach the month of Elul, an increased capacity for understanding that all is held within a much larger greater field of awareness. Perhaps this is another interpretation of the saying that 'The king is in the field" in Elul. We must go out into the fields. We must step into expansive spaces in nature that inspire awe - to feel ourselves as a drop of color in the painting, a drop of water in the ocean, a seed of grass in the flowing field of upward soaring, extending grasses, mirroring the soul's constant and innate desire for elevation and renewal in this season.
