the little Main Street...

In those first few cold wet months, I hibernated, doing my best to heal old wounds. But, in the darkness wounds can fester. I decided to seek out the Light. I chose to explore this strange new world in which I found myself.

I followed the wooded country lane. It led me, ever so slowly, through twists and turns to an enclave of six or so shops. The whole town was a study in miniature. It looked like a winter scene from one of those glass globes filled with water and silver glitter. This, my new Main Street, reminded me of childhood, and Lincoln Logs. A bell tower, tea shop, used bookstore, bakery, hardware store, bank, and mercantile; this was my home now. Could I, the metropolitan urban man, adjust to a Laura Ingalls Wilder existence?!

God has a sense of humor. It is said that nothing makes God laugh more than our plans. I had always dreamed of being in the spotlight of the world's stage, and now God was asking me to be a background player? Impossible! Who are we when we are stripped of all our illusions? I was about to find out.

The used bookstore drew me in. The smell of old books was comforting, as I came in from the brisk Autumn weather. This is when I first met the Wise Women of the Tribe, as I affectionately came to call them. These elder women, some dressed in multi-layered flowing gypsy clothes, some dressed in iridescent faerie clothes, were busier than any dwarf in a mine. But, these Wise Women were mining books, piles and piles. Silently, lovingly they worked. I walked through the mystical maze-like rooms, searching the hidden, seemingly haunted stacks. There were mothers breast-feeding their children. Men fingering guitars. Artists sketching. Lovers of books reading. Yes, I had found a place of solace, a quiet respite from my journey.

God is compassionate. We are never given more at one time than we can bear. And when it all appears to be beyond our limit, a hug is sent our way.

The Arrival...

Ten years ago, having lost all things that had been precious to me, my health, home, support systems, I arrived in the foothills. I felt broken and alone. Harold S. Kushner wrote most eloquently on the theme of surviving when bad things happen to good people. I could never match the words of such a wise teacher. But, I will say that when we are at our most broken, that may be when we are most able to learn.

Ten years ago, I arrived in the wilderness during the rainy season. I stepped off the greyhound bus and into a world of green. Having grown up in cities of concrete and steel, I felt I had entered a Tolkien novel. It was a completely alien experience for which nothing from my past had prepared me. I had nothing to my name except the knapsack on my back. Thus began my spiritual re-education.

I arrived in the wilderness poor, unwashed, with long hair and long beard. I felt I had fallen as low as a human being could fall. I, who had been the "helper", the star volunteer who had tirelessly helped those in the margins, suddenly found myself living as one with those in the margins. The Fall can be a blessing!

Pride gave way to humility. Stubbornness gave way to patience. Anger gave way to compassion.

The Rain did it's work. It washed the dirt away. Whatever I had been in the past, I'm not sure I had been quite Human. But in the cold green wetness I awakened re-born.

Sometimes in life things happen, seemingly bad things. And we find ourselves in unknown territory. Sometimes, where we are is exactly where we are supposed to be. The lessons don't come cheaply or easily. But if we remain open, the lessons do come.

In the Beginning...

It is only fitting, to begin this dialogue during a week when we celebrate both Passover and Easter. I grew up in the Washington Heights neighborhood of New York, equi-distant from Yeshiva University and the Cloisters, so I have always believed in building inter-faith and multi-cultural bridges.

This is a blog that honors the small simple moments that allow us to recognize, and celebrate the Light in our midst. Sometimes that light is a flickering flame in the distance, sometimes that Light is the bright sunshine on the water's surface. Sometimes that Light is a kind stranger, or an old friend.

We are all so inter-connected. You matter. We all matter. Whether or not we are perfect or flawed, Abled or physically-challenged, rich or poor, regardless of culture or class, or geographic location, we all matter because we are One family, the Human family.

And I care about each of my sisters and brothers.

Welcome to A Healing Place. This is a site where we can share our wonder, and joy, and our stories of Inspiration, pain and Redemption.

Welcome Home.