Between the margins -1

BS’D

Shalom!

In something new and old, I’ll share the different meanderings my mind goes through while learning and meeting the Daf.

Nothing here I can testify as truth rather doses of medicine I feel helpful to myself in the moment.

Torah Tavlin and I am one of those that find themselves sick sometimes.

Masechet Shavuot 20

שָׁוְא וְשֶׁקֶר אֶחָד הֵם
Falsehood and deception are not cousins—they are twins.
To lie about the past is to falsify the present.
To lie about the present is to corrupt the past.
Truth is a single thread. Snap it in one place, and the whole tapestry warps.

So too with zachor and shamor.
Memory and discipline. Longing and restraint.
They were uttered in a single breath because they are not meant to be split.
You cannot truly guard what you do not remember.
You cannot truly remember what you do not guard.
Where I find myself with one is always where I find myself with the other.

Sometimes,
we cannot speak what the ears are not ready to hear.
And we cannot hear what we’ve never been given permission to speak.
Language folds into silence.
And silence swells into ache.
But when the moment opens—when truth is ready to land—
even the bones hear.

And thankfully—thankfully—
the women are still here.

The feminine presence—rooted in Binah (understanding), Malchut (presence), and Shechinah (dwelling)—is not waiting for permission to awaken.

Where men war over words and control, the women sanctify themselves quietly.
Like the daughters of Tzelofchad, like Miriam at the water, like Serach bat Asher who remembered the melody.
Their sanctity flows from their rootedness in time, body, and blood.
Not because they were told to—but because they never forgot.

They remember. They protect. They carry both zachor and shamor in their bodies.

Witnesses that testify, Eshet Hayil indeed.

אמת מארץ תצמח

“Truth will sprout from the earth.” — Tehillim 85:12

But not everything that grows is wheat.
And not everything that shines is holy.

We live in a world obsessed with packaging.
Wrap a truth in polish. Sell it as a brand. Call it a mission.
But sometimes, branding is just ego with a hechsher.
And I’ve done that.
I’ve taken moments of real insight—raw, unfiltered sincerity—
and tried to make them presentable. Impressive. Monetizable.
Turned them into “content.”
But emet—truth—is not something you use.
It’s something you stand under.
It’s not for sale.
It grows when you stop tilling the soil to impress others.

“To eat something treif is one thing.
To take the treif and stamp it as kosher—that’s worse.” -Rabbi Lapin
Because now I’m not just off-course,
I’m lying to myself about the direction.

וְאִי זוֹ הִיא שְׁבוּעַת שָׁוְא?

“What is a false oath?”

One who swears to deny what is already known to man. — Shavuot 21a

To deny what’s true—what’s already known, even if only deep down—is the heart of a lie.
Because lies aren’t always in words.
Sometimes the biggest sheker is in performance. In posture. In omission.

And here’s the chiddush that’s breaking through the crust of my assumptions:
God doesn’t flinch at my humanity. I do.

I’m the one who pulls away in shame.
I’m the one who draws a line between my body and my soul,
between my behaviors and my belonging.

Hashem doesn’t measure distance the way I measure my performance.
He’s not tracking sin like a celestial accountant.
He’s waiting for my honesty.

And honesty, emet, grows from the ground.
Not from the heavens.
It starts in the dirt.
In the places I’ve fallen.
In the shadows I’ve wanted to avoid.
In the parts of me I’ve tried to exile.

It sprouts when I stop trying to earn my way back
and start being with the parts of me that never left.
Even in the places that I dared not look.
Even in the scroll.
Even in the quiet, post-release shame spiral where one thinks they shattered something sacred. ( Is it hubris to think that you broke the unbreakable?)

I didn’t.
Because Hashem didn’t flinch.
He waited.
For truth.
For realignment.
For my return to the soil, where it all begins again.

So no—I won’t use truth to sell myself.
I’ll use it to come home.

Best,

Moshe Haim

P.S. Trust is a journey, not a destination. Be patient, dear ones.

P.P.S. Healing and self-discovery continues. If you feel the call to deepen this work, to truly step into the light of your own being, I invite you to join us at the next Hineini Retreat. It’s a sacred space where these shadows can be fully explored, embraced, and transformed. Come, be a part of a community that supports you in this dance of reclamation and renewal. You deserve it.

Because this image makes me smile.