questions for pendulums

There are two routes up the Mount of Old Musa. Below the mountain is a cave—for waiting. Musa only took one route, and unless we take it ourselves, we won’t know which one is the Way.

How many of us have climbed old Musa’s mount or sat in his cave, only to realize that we have forgotten the sound that touches us and the sight by which we bear witness?

But what of the Mitzvot? People continue to hark; look at the bedlam we stew in! And no good deed… and Jazz like that. Sure, some folk think that old Musa could see and hear from birth, so what of us then?

He returns with hands heavy and full of cracked stone. A voice and a sight we all hear and see and ignore every moment of every night and day, placed as it was, right into our bodies.

Yet, the Stones, being the material that they are, have a weight that promises us that we will Hear, we will See, and we will Feel the Weight.

Weight demands to be felt, and we know it well. Tell me, who has ever cried a hollow tear? Teetering between falling apart and holding it together.

From this weight, all the meaning we are looking for will be present. There is no other Way for anything to burn up except for the way that it does.

Even the bush on fire knows as much about love!