For the Love of Rest.

Reading the 1951 publication, the Sabbath from the beautiful brain of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel right now, and loving every word, letting them linger, as the ideas he sheds light on ought to.

It's a simple story told in a simple way, but it reminds me of the stuff of heart and guts and the ways in which I avoid said organs and truths on a fairly constant basis, to be honest. It discusses the importance of a day of rest, to take time to be. Regardless of your spiritual/religious background or inclination, or lack thereof, I feel like the need for rest and for consideration is something we often universally choose not to engage with, while crying out for it all the more in places deep within ourselves.

I am sure I will be posting more about it, but here's a bit for now:

They who want to enter the holiness of the day must first lay down the profanity of clattering commerce, of being yoked to toil. They must go away from the screech of dissonant days, from the nervousness and fury of acquisitiveness and the betrayal in embezzling their own life. They must say farwell to manual work and learn to understand that the world has already been created and will survive without the help of humans. Six days a week we wrestle with the world, wringing profit from the earth; on the Sabbath we especially care for the seed of eternity planted in the soul. The world has our hands, but our soul belongs to Someone Else. Six days a week we seek to dominate the world, on the seventh day we try to dominate the self.