This post might take me a while to write, because I am multi-tasking once more - trying to type and cram my mouth full of peanut M&Ms at the same time... and where there is room I might squeeze in the occasional Malteser.
For the past week or so, I have been amused at the choices of song currently driving me half insane. And I am equally surprised at the songs which rattle round my head all day and don't drive me insane.
The songs I hum or sing on a day to day basis (oh my goodness, only one person reading this will realise exactly how much this makes me like Mother) reflect what I have recently been doing with my time.
After spending the night at a Ceroc class, the song I will repeatedly play and then sing will be the one which gave me the biggest surge of joy on the dance floor - the right dance partner, the right music, the right shoes... the stuff that dreams are made of. But having had a long break from all things Ceroc lately, and more time at the Kabbalah Centre either at Shabbat or most recently Pesach, the songs that I find myself singing are Hebrew hymns and prayers. And they are very catchy and I love them.
I don't care that I cannot understand a word I am singing. In fact, I prefer it that way. The connection seems easier to make without the direct translation.
But since spending the entire day on Friday with my friend and her twin boys, I repeatedly catch myself singing "There are bubbles in the air, in the air"... and it is driving me crackers.
When hanging the washing: "There are bubbles way up high, way up high......"
When making a cup of coffee: "There are bubbles way down low, way down low..."
Aaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!!! There are bubbles in my fricking head!!
Where is 'Lecha Dodi Likra Kala...' when you need it?
(It takes me back to the days when the office practical joker used to play a snippet of the theme tune to Terry and June on his PC. Five hours later the office would be full of intelligent business people dashing their brains out on their desks having failed to get the song out of their heads using any other method. Carnage.)
Maybe my penchant for and lack of irritation with Hebrew hymns is an indication of my deeply ingrained spirituality. Oh yes, I think that must be it. I have, after all, recently started scanning the Sh'ma readings for the morning and bedtime which involves little bit more dedication and effort than I have previously made in raising my consciousness. Aren't I a good little girl (notice how that wasn't a question)
Each prayer aims to set your consciousness for the day or the night ahead (and they too contain an awful lot of Eloheinu's and Adonai's - marvellous). The first prayer at night involves asking forgiveness for any hurt or pain that you caused to any other person during the day.
So that's spiritual, huh? I am getting better at this 'Kabbalah Rookie' business all the time, no?
I guess I would be more pleased with myself had I not had a conversation this evening which exposed exactly how far I have to go. The conversation involved a mild slating of Jeremy who I had a couple of dates with and who then ditched me. Apparently his attire last Friday night was a pink T-shirt tucked in to jeans which had a waistline height a la Simon Cowell. And whilst I was mocking his lack of dress sense and generally agreeing that I'd had a lucky escape and that I was 'So O-ver Him', I found myself thinking 'okay, I'd better mark that one down for forgiveness tonight'
As though that makes everything better! I might as well be a faux Catholic if I am going down that path! (no offence, nice Catholics..). I am pretty sure that the idea is not to get away with murder whilst thinking 'it's okay, I've got a prayer for that one'. Somehow I don't think the Creator - being omnipotent and all - would fall for it.
Oh well, I guess that recognition is key. Recognition that I have a long way to go, perhaps. But at least I get the point. And another benefit to reciting the Sh'ma readings is that it helps to replace those darned bubbles with a few Eloheinu's, if only for a few minutes...