Weaver's Web

bitterlawngnome posted a wonderful shot of a mallard this morning, which took me back to something that happened a month ago.

As a young child, each Yom Kippur, my parents took me to the shore for the physical metaphor of casting our sins upon the water. Bread was the only foodstuff we handled that day, not to consume, but to tear and toss, crumb by crumb, sin by sin, onto the tidal flow that is Jamaica Bay. I don't remember gulls or fish gathering to feed, as we tossed the sacrificial carbohydrate, though I'm sure they must have at some point. All I do recall was watching those water-soaked slices of bread slowly drift away from the shore towards deeper water, as they carried a child's sins off with them.

It's a powerful image that's remained with me all these years; a metaphor I still recreate each year.

On Yom Kippur, I drove into town and walked to the water's edge, a bag of tortillas in hand, and thinking of my indiscretions of the year past, began to tear and toss them a small piece at a time in the water moving slowly past. Within moments, a flock of ducks gathered at at my feet, diving madly for each speck of tortilla, fiercely competing with one another. It quickly became a challange to actually get a scrap to hit the water, before it was consumed. Some 30 ducks paddled about in the water before me. I walked up river a bit to lose myself in thought and contemplate the state of my life and relationships, to make this a better year, only to have them follow me, not just upstream, but away from the water's edge. Several ducks gathered about my feet, squawking laudly. How dare I leave while still holding their food?

I thought for a bit, them simple proceeded to feed the ducks, apologizing to the divine, to my world and to myself for my shortcomings, resolved this would be a better year to come. Once the bag was empty, I turned and made my journey back to the car, stopping once to look back at my avian confessors. Most had gone back into the water and were swimming about, but three of them stood on the shore, watching me depart.

Blessed be.