Do It Yourself
With the spring here, and everything getting so beautiful and cheerful
outside, when we look at our drab homes, it may be time to paint.
Whether you choose a professional or decide to do it yourself, you
should always be involved in choosing the right paints. I've spent
hours removing the wrong ones from homes; its a waste of my time and
their money. In the long run if you get off to a good start, your
home will look perfect, and stay that way for a long time.
With Yosef Krinsky
based on a piece by Hadassa Ehrman
This idea is directed to you, the present reader, and future
reader and writer, for your friends, family and even coming
generations. It is called "Memory Forever."
All you have to do is write. This is not an assignment for
school or a transcription of your daily experiences in a
diary. This is a memory that you enjoy writing and want to
write for your own benefit and for that of others.
Dear Diary - Part IV
by R' P. Kantrowitz
Follow us as we rediscover our world through the eyes of
the parents of a baal tshuva yeshiva bochur. Laugh some, cry
some, shep some nachas from `our Irwin.'
We have survived his Erev Shabbos preparations and are
joining him at the Kosel.
Baking Soda Baking Clay (non-
Something non-edible, something edible.
by Nechama Berg and Chaya Levine
by Rivka Tal
The four holy cities represent the four elements of this
physical world, say our sages, with Jerusalem corresponding
to fire and Tzefas to air.
There is something very spiritually stimulating about the
air in Tzefas, our poetess assures us. Which is why we have
been discovering so much talent up there.
by Rifca Goldberg
Z'fas. Holy city nestled on top of a mountain of purity.
Wherever I go within its loving arms
I feel accepted, calmed, serene.
But there's something more. Something deeper.
Not a dance.
Not even a swaying.
But a pulsating.
How can a mountain have a heartbeat?
I don't have the answer, but I feel it.
Pulsating through the ground,
Through my legs
Insinuating into my cells
Being absorbed into my mind.
I try to find the same rhythm within myself
Tapping my foot on the ancient cobblestones
While the gnarled olive trees nod to me knowingly,
But my own pulse has a different beat.
It fights the even measure.
The pulsating motion interrupts my thoughts.
At first frightening,
Then slowly soothing.
Now the need to tap diminishes
With this soundless pulse
I look up.
All around me, Z'fas is framed by low unhurried clouds,
Tranquil pine trees fingering the deep blue sky
While golden sunrays smile at the harmony below it.
I walk through the arched alleyways,
The busy mainstreet, the lush hillside,
Watching the trees, the stones,
The houses all breathing the steady rhythm.
Inhaling it. Exhaling it.
And the pulsating continues.
Flowing through me.
Embracing and claiming me.
One with me.
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