774. Opening

I am able to sing again, a little bit. For the past two weeks, the sounds of any kind of music caused me pain, actual, physical pain, a hollow ache that started around my heart and radiated outward. During that first week, my whole body hurt even in silence. Then on Friday I found myself listening to the Verdi Requiem (more about which I will write soon). It felt good, like a flower starting to slowly open in a desert. Afterward I had the urge to pick up Megillat Esther, and ran through chapters 4, 5 and 6 for the first time since last year. My voice was dry and stiff, but after awhile I started to sound human. I sang during services later that evening, although couldn't really feel the rhythm, or clap or sway. I went though the motions of music, but part of me was still closed. As it should be, I think.

Later that night I thought about Esther, a story of hiding in which God is present but never mentioned by name. This seemed appropriate for a first kind of utterance after great sadness. I had opened the door a crack, not yet able to see completely to the other side, but admitting the possibility that goodness would be revealed whenever I was ready to accept it.