Straight out of O

"O, The Oprah Magazine" has a very interesting article in it this month entitled "What Adam and Eve Didn't Tell You" by Irwin Kula, 'an eighth-generation rabbi, author of the just-published Yearning: Embracing the Sacred Messiness of Life.' (O, October 2006, pg. 316).

Some choice snipits:

Almost along the lines of what I've been writing about this past week, and similar to the idea that "Safety can be a sort of death."

"[The mystic sages] taught that, as seductive as it is, certainty closes down possibility, curiosity, and growth. And they understood that uncertainty is the beginning of wisdom, a vital energy that propels us to more profound levels of creativity and understanding - of love, of purpose, of self."

....

And then a story that gives a much better picture of what I had tried to capture in my musings a while back about the necessity, no... thats not the right word, ... perhaps benefit is better, to Killing Uriah. Actually after re-reading my original "Gotta Kill Uriah..." entry for the first time in a long while, I realize that my thoughts on the subject have really progressed to an entirely different place than where I started. Perhaps, after all is said and done, every single part of life, the successes, pains, joys, and mistakes, are all just part of the journey...

"I like to imagine Adam and Eve, middle-aged, lying in bed one night. It's the anniversary of their banishment decades ago. Eve turns to Adam and asks softly, "Why did you blame me when we ate the fruit?" She realizes she's no longer afraid to hear the answer - or for there to be no clear answer. She's worn out her victim role; she's ready for a new story. And Adam is surprised to feel his heart open. He no longer needs to be certain and right at Eve's expense. His armor has been cracked by births and deaths, droughts and harvests. There's room for new light to shine through. Together he and Eve have lived through the shattering of dreams and illusions. They share a hard-earned trust and honesty they could never have imagined in their youth.
Adam says, "I ate it because I, too, wanted to discover new worlds. And then I was afraid to face what I'd done. I'm sorry." Suddenly, both of them see that withouth that fruit - without that urge to seek beyond a familiar way of being - there would have been no bed, no love, no depth of knowing each other or themselves. And without the years in between, there would have been no ripening; true intimacy and genuine wisdom would have never have been born."

....

Interesting stuff.