Dead Bees and Jellybeans
How do I get “I am but dust and ashes” out of “For my sake was the world created”?
The above is a recording of this piece performed by the author.
An anecdote to start:
There was a legendary philosophy professor named Sidney Morgenbesser. Morgenbesser was from the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and he barely published a word in his lifetime. But he was called the “Socrates of the Sidewalk.” He would skulk around campus, and everyone would come talk to him, test out their ideas, kibitz with him—and then he would disintegrate their logic.
So one day, a renowned Oxford professor was scheduled to give a talk on the philosophy of language on campus. The lecture hall was packed. The Oxford guy was standing at the lectern saying, “We know of grammatical instances in which two negatives produce a positive. But we know of no grammatical instances in which two positives produce a negative.”
Then from way back in the auditorium, Morgenbesser’s voice rings out, and he shouts,
“Yeah, yeah.”
For me, that’s the Jewish yin-yang.
So Rabbi Simcha Bunim had a teaching: Everyone should have two pockets. In one pocket should be a little piece of paper on which is written: “I am but dust and ashes.” In the other pocket should be a little piece of paper saying: “For my sake was the world created.”
I tried it, but in my “dust and ashes” pocket I put dead bees. And in my “For my sake was the world created” pocket, I put jellybeans. So, I’d go around and think, “I am dust and ashes,” and take out a handful of dead bees. And then I’d think, “For my sake was the world created,” and take out a handful of jellybeans. Then one day I got startled and I stuck my “dust and ashes” hand in my “For my sake was the world created” pocket, and some dead bees got in with the jellybeans. I tried to fix it, and stuck my “For my sake was the world created” hand in my “dust and ashes” pocket, and some jellybeans got in with the dead bees. Now I got “dust and ashes” in my “For my sake was the world created,” dead bees in my jellybeans—it was all mixed up. How can I separate them? What’s wrong with me? What is Jewish wisdom?
Anyway, at the edge of the neighborhood of Not-Even-Anything, there was a tiny park. There were pigeons, concrete tables with the chessboard built-in. It was always deserted. Everyday at dawn, I’d go there, sit scribbling on a newspaper, asking myself, What is Jewish wisdom? How do I get “I am but dust and ashes” out of “For my sake was the world created”? What’s wrong with me?
Then I saw a flyer for a storefront synagogue. So I went there and asked the rabbi, “What is Jewish wisdom?” And he said, “Buy this 1 CD whole Kabbalah, Chochma, Binah, Shekhinah, whole Kabbalah 1 CD. Jewish wisdom, 1 CD.” And I said, “What is Jewish wisdom? Also, what's a CD? What’s wrong with me?”
“Eh,” he said, “You don’t bow low enough.”
So I went to another rabbi and I asked her, “What is Jewish wisdom? How do I bow low enough?” And she said, “Sit shiva for your former self.” And I said, “What?” And she said, “Maybe, in the past, at one time, before, there was a man like you. But today, now, where is such a man? So, cover the mirrors, dress in black, sit for seven days. Here's the number of my caterer.”
So, I called the caterer and I said, “What is Jewish wisdom?” And he said, “The smell of dill after the pickle store has closed.”
Then I fell into despair. Everything was dust and ashes. I was upside-down with my head stuck in life. I couldn’t ask my friends for help because then they’d know I didn’t know what Jewish wisdom is.
So finally, I went to a Jewish Buddhist and said, “What is Jewish wisdom? How do I get my head stuck out of my life?” And they said, “In a certain neighborhood of Not-Even-Anything, there's a tiny park. Pigeons, concrete tables with the chessboard built-in. And every day at dawn, a guy comes, talks to himself, scribbles on a newspaper. Ask him.”
And I said, “Yeah, I know that park, but I've never seen the guy.” Then, as I was leaving, the Jewish Buddhist called out to me, “And remember—that guy is a complete idiot!”
So the next morning, I went to the park at dawn like I always do, brought my newspaper, and sat and waited. But the guy never showed. Then I looked around. Oh fuck. The guy was me.
Then I reached into one pocket, felt something wet and warm: it was my infant head crowning in the womb. Reached into the other pocket, felt something cold and stiff: it was my dead foot as they buried me in the dirt.
“For my sake was the world created.” “I am but dust and ashes.” On one side, whole bunch of jellybeans. Other side, whole bunch of dead bees. One day, the jellybeans become the dead bees; the next, the dead bees become the jellybeans.
Yeah, yeah.
And intermingled in the two, my life flows.
Wait wait—but what is Jewish wisdom?
Finally, I turned to God. And I’m like, “You take all the jelly beans. You take all the dead bees. You take all this stuff. You made it, you take it.” And God was like,
[
.] Silence.
Finally, I’m in my bare and simple state, and I said, “God, if I could pay attention, I’d unfasten a button on the future and feel it with my finger.
O, listen to an unaffiliated heart reveal its secret cardiogram. Let my lens be fresh as a newborn window.
God, shape me as a root, breaking up the sidewalk with its curve.”
MORE:
Here is a video of me performing this piece before my friend Hanna-Lee Sakakibara’s one-woman show “Improbable.” She has an awesome new podcast called Mixunderstood you can listen to here.
Here is 49 seconds of the master Stephen Wright, who revealed the path: