Counting. Counting the days of the week, counting the hours of sleep, the hours until sleep, counting the hours I worked, counted the time of my practice (and how it counted to me). Counting who counts. My teachers count in unmeasurable ways and I am blessed by my remarkable teachers. I lost one this week, a woman of valor in every way. We'll count 82 years for her. She was as strong minded as she was small; as tough talking as the delicacy of her frame and affection. She was a teacher: everything tumbled into perspective and context, encased in the humor of her quips. Goodbye, my dear friend and teacher.
Sunday we are at the 33rd day of counting the Omer, the 33rd day, the fifth day of the fifth week - a Splendor within the week of Splendor. This was the week my daughter was born. And I count her 23 years like I count nothing else.
