"No lamp is too lowly, and no lamp is too lofty, for the lamplighter and his pole."
- Yanki Tauber, chabad.org, on the mission of the Jew, the lamplighter.
My mind can speak to my heart and remind it that of course the Rebbe is thinking of me and caring about and for me. This must be the work of the yetzer hora who is trying to bring me down, using cruel tactics of cooling the fervent belief of the drowning fellow calling out in Yiddish to be saved. Okay, so I'll replace belief with trust. Belief was a dollar, a video, a sign. Trust is when the letter says you're a lump for people to pass by, you laugh and say no I'm not.
I can choose self-pity and then defiance or resignation, depression etcetera, or I can choose to be connected to Above so I don't fall below.
This post is my trust connection.
The letter made me feel abandoned actually. Acknowledging my present state but not blessing or encouraging it seems to me a resigned acceptance with instructions to others to move on.
That's really sad.
At least I get points for crying for real twice in one week and it's only Monday.
We're off to a smashing start.
There was a time when emotions came in boxes of 12, all the basics.
Now I get new ones at a rapid pace and I marvel at the singularity of each of the 64.
Never before this weekend do I recall being told to be ashamed of who I am. Not of what I do, but who I am. Not of my religion or race or gender or country, but personally me.
That's a whole new color.