What begins as a tangle of threads in my hands becomes the connection to creation, forming visions behind my eyes, images within my heart, sounds inviting the sacred.
It is possible to hear with all your senses if, when, you pay attention. My hands can hear the thudding of my heart, the whisper of a breeze, the color of the sky.
My heart hears the longing of souls bound to mitzvot. My body hears stories of the earth, of creation, of the desire for love and gentleness.
I smooth the twisted threads between my fingers. Once, twice, thrice, and once again. Anchoring them to the third hand, the hand of the divine, I begin the binding with the wisdom of the third eye-
Binding to the truth of the One
Binding to obedience to the laws
Binding to praise and prayer
Binding to curiosity and generosity
Binding to dignity and honor
Binding the breath speaking the Sh’ma
Binding all to the Sabbath of the Eternal One.
The twisted knots, embraced by a thread of blue, are ready to be connected to prayer, to whispers of wonder, to the kisses of the faithful. Sh’ma Israel, adonai eloheynu, Adonai ehad.
