Reading both the Sefer Yetzirah and Orlov’s Divine Scapegoats has put me back on the track of reading through the edges of Jewish mysticism proper. Obviously, I ain’t never going to be a Jewish mystic, but it’s pretty clear I’m sharing some of the same intellectual real estate. Ha, back in the day, I remember being somewhat startled when a fellow grad student accused me of being a closet Jewish mystic over my reading of Walter Benjamin’s “Theses on the Philosophy of History.”
Dreams of Adama-Zeus, of the thundering bowling ball, stumbling on a blog post about consecrating sacred space to Jupiter on Mt. Higby–it’s probably time to talk a little about Chesed and the pillar of God’s Mercy. While the discussion of the Tree of Life usually leads us up and down the lightning path, my work has led me to emphasize a different way of gathering the sefirot together. Rather than emphasize the middle pillar as the direct route, I tend to focus on it as the locus through which the tree comes into existence, it’s orchestators, the left and right hands (a distinction which, due to a quirk of my education, I associate with Zora Neale Hurston of all people).