This year we do not sing to be louder than the past or braver than the future. Maybe we do not try to outrun who we were twelve months ago or audition a shinier self for the year ahead. Maybe we let the year turn without commentary. No vows shouted into the dark. No reinvention demanded at midnight. Just presence.
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Returning to self is noticing both: feeling the steadiness inside and stepping into the self that faces the world with authenticity.
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Lashon Harah is not merely gossip or slander. It is the precise, ancient name for the dark art of wounding with words.
Read MoreHope can feel fake. It can feel silly. Let’s face it, we are a jaded bunch.
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I find it hard, if not impossible, to wave one hand limply at another cut in public health spending and mumble platitudes about karma.
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