July 10
In every thing dwells a spark. Whoever sees it serves with joy — and accepts even the darkness as a hidden good.
Shivhei ha-Besht (freely rendered)
Listening mode
In every thing dwells a spark. Whoever sees it serves with joy — and accepts even the darkness as a hidden good.
At some point you may say of a hard time that it taught you something. Often the sentence is even true. You have grown more patient, you have noticed who stays, and you know a fear that no longer surprises you. Still, the sentence only comes afterwards. It gives the months a purpose they didn't have back then.
It gets harder when someone else says it to you while you are still in the middle of it: Who knows what good will come of this. It is kindly meant. But it sounds as if you were supposed to sign for something already that you can't yet see the whole of. Whatever good you find in it belongs to you only as long as you find it yourself, at your own pace, and as long as you are also allowed to find nothing.
Accepting and justifying lie close together here. You can make peace with a time without conceding that it was right, and take with you whatever turns up. The months themselves stay as long as they were.
