(Tikkun Olam: In Judaism, the idea of “repairing the world” )
I watch you gathering up the broken pieces one by one you put them into your small backpack filling it up almost to the point that it cannot be zipped closed. (Somehow, though, you will make the zipper’s teeth come together temporarily sealing them inside.) I know that you will take the contents home dumping them out onto the floor sifting through to see what is there. You might even try to fit them together, like an awkward puzzle, to form a new whole but you will fail. You will take them, though, and keep them safely tucked away. And then you will go out once again, empty backpack on your shoulders in search of the broken pieces. I have an old bag similar to yours. Not a backpack and with no zipper to securely close. It hangs in my closet, behind the outgrown winter coats and the toolbox with the broken hinge. I have not used it in quite some time and for that I am grateful. I want to ask you about your quest, this searching that you do. Are you looking for something in particular? Do you ever hope to find something valuable? Are there pieces that you leave behind, things that will stay lost in perpetuity? I want to ask… But I don’t. I just watch and wait for you to notice me watching. But you don’t.