It was a field trip in the Pardes of Wadi YahTalk:a one-day pilgrimage festival for three perpetual students of the eternal,a wandering choir of soloists sight reading libretto marked on fig leavesfrom a fig tree of knowledge that grew there, in the Pardes of Wadi YahTalk.
The interpretation of: every thing. Illuminated by the lifted veil of desert light,we heard, in the spring-fed stream at the base of the wadi – frog croaks and frog leaps;and in the consciousness stream at the base of our cranium – thought croaks and thought leaps.
We were trying to understand the desire of the bulrushes to be; not the mechanics of creation, but the desire. The will. Where is the will? Is it in the fiber of their rushes? And we humans, things blessed with divine consciousness like God will a world of meaning, using words.
So there we were, in Wadi YahTalk, Jerusalem-stone mountain-home of hermits a place of magical realism in geopolitical space, trying to translate the world into the language of words.
Nachman of Breslev went to fields to meditate, tell metaphor stories, and so did we.
We even saw a family of Breslevites, man and woman, boy child and girl childimmersing themselves in the spring-fed waters of Ein Mabua;along with Christian Arabs with cross tattoos, Yeshiva bochers, in peyyot and white underpants, and a busload of Ethiopian schoolchildren.
So it is fitting that we sang a song of Breslev, The Song of the Grasses:“That each grass and grass has a special tune of its ownAnd from the song of the grasses we will make a song of our understanding.”
And thus our choristers passed through the valley and any differences in understanding were disagreements for the sake of heaven - the kabalistic-desert-light-sky heaven above the Pardes of Wadi YahTalk.
In the natural amphitheater for the talent show of the grasses, where bulrushes sang and danced,we were human and grass Wadi prayers: that every thing should be as it is said.