Your Counsel

alma in class

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

Make room for growth

Inside yourself,

So that you may find counsel

In the wisdom

You possess,

And in the unfolding knowledge

That might feel today

Not much more

Than a guess.

 

 

For The Daily Post

You, Authenticated

Cross AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

What makes you, the real you?

What holds truth to your being?

How do you separate

Masks and screens

From true seeing?

In the search to find you,

What peels off

What is freeing?

Do you take on the journey?

Would it matter yet still

To find out

Or accept

That you’re all of it

Whole,

And besides it some more

Guaranteeing?

 

 

For The Daily Post

No Iron Needed

Oasis tree

Photo: Ofir Asif

 

There’s a crease in my memories.

An obscure line

Of thoughts.

There’s a wrinkle along

The predictable

Plot.

I’ve accumulated crinkles

And crimps

And what not.

It is fine

As it is.

It is what

It need be.

All those furrows and folds

Are what makes me

Be me.

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

I’d Rather

Flower NYC NaamaYehuda

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

 

I’d rather be

As I am

Just in a world

Less fraught

With wrong

And sorrow.

And yet,

If in my druthers

Things were not

Exactly as they are

In both joy and dismay,

What would make me

Be exactly

As I am

Today?

 

 

 

For The Daily Post

Enroll

flower girl

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

 

Enroll

Full time

In your own life.

Join in your

Own

Cheerleading.

Engage

With what

Fulfills your

Dream.

Become

What you are

Needing.

 

For The Daily Post

Permission

Inconspicuous AtaraKats

Photo: Atara Katz

 

Permit yourself

To be

All that you are

Today

With the unfinished corners

Hanging out

For all to see.

Allow yourself

The story

Of the things you

Have become

And still are changing.

Grant your

Everything

A place for be.

 

 

For The Daily Post

“I Gray?”

play-dough-people-faces

Photo: picklebums.com

 

His maman is from Haiti. His “so called papa” is “no one you’d want to remember” (as per his maman and grand-maman) because he has “no color in his eyes or heart.”

The boy has soft waves of honey brown hair. Cupid lips. Deep brown eyes. Light caramel skin. Freckles on his nose.

He’s recently discovered the magic of combining colors. He finds it entrancing. He is especially moved by the alchemy of what happens when you add white.

“You have black?” he asks, pointing to the Play-doe containers on my shelf.

“No,” I note, “I ran out. But I have brown.”

“Let me see.”

I hand him a container and he pulls the lid off and inspects the contents. “It in the wrong place,” he states, pointing to the yellow lid.

“I know. I just used a container I already had. It didn’t come that way. We made the brown from mixing different colors.”

“Who make it?”

“One of the other kids I work with made it. You want to try and make brown, too?”

He frowns, considers, shakes his head. “But I want some.”

“You want to use some of it? Sure. Go ahead.”

He pinches a bit of the dough and rolls in pensively between his fingers. “You have white?”

“I do!” I give him the white-topped container. He peeks in. After the yellow-topped one holding brown, one never knows …

He pulls out a chunk and begins kneading the white piece into the brown. A moment passes, then another. He’s quiet. He’s got something on his mind.

“Brown people are called black,” he notes.

“Hmm…” I nod. I wonder if he’d say more.

He glances at the yellow lid and I wonder if he’s wondering if it is one more of those “in the wrong place” designations. He sighs.

“I black but I also white,” he raises his eyes to me. “That mean I gray?”

 

 

For The Daily Post

 

 

How Will I Know?

girlchem

“How will I know?” the girl hung spectacled green eyes on me. Teeth aglitter with pastel-colored braces bit her lower lip. “What if I wait till it’s too late?”

It was decision time for Summer Camp and she was fretting.

Should she go to the same camp she’d gone to twice already, the camp her cousin goes to, and where several of her classmates will be? She loved it there. It was familiar. It was only three hours away from home. There was a lake and zip-lines and horseback riding. She was going to choose her best friend from last summer as a bunk-mate. It felt like another home.

Or … should she go to the other camp … the one she’d heard of last year but by then already had no openings? The science camp sounded like everything she’d ever want … but now the choice – and possible consequences – became real. That camp was half-way across the continent. It was on a campus, not in a forest. There’d be no one there she knows.

“My friends say I’m crazy because who wants school when there’s finally no school,” she sighed. Her finger twirled the edge of an auburn lock. Twist, hold, release; twist, hold, release. I thought of how the movement mirrored her dilemma … To hold on or to let go, to keep close or to let loose.

A difficult concept at any age, let alone at eleven.

“Hmm …” I noted. It wasn’t my input this child needed, just my ear.

“It’s not like school!” she stressed, a bit defensively. “It’s interesting! Also, they have summer camp activities. A pool, and trips, even arts and crafts. … Well, the crafts are more like, robotics and such, but that’s still crafting stuff, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

She took a deeper breath. “And I like science … They have a whole week about space. We’ll even get to visit a real observatory!” Her eyes shone as if they were already reflecting several constellations, and she sat straighter. Then she sagged. “But I don’t know anyone.”

“Not yet,” I noted. “I gather this won’t last.”

The auburn curl twirled, corked, released. “Yeah … There were a lot of kids I didn’t know in the other camp, especially the first time. But …” the big green eyes widened as the core of doubt unmasked. “What if everyone there is, you know, dorks and nerds and such?”

My eyebrows rose, amused. “And if they are? …”

She frowned but then a pastel-braces grin appeared. “Well … then I’ll fit right in…”

womenscientist1

 

For The Daily Post

 

A mirror-mirror moment

It is always good to be … in good company …

Recognize the miracle that we each are …

A teaching mirror-mirror moment, by an adorable 3 months old.

Photo by: Smadar Epstein

Photo by: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein