There is still time before the sun sets to engage in Omer Day Forty-Eight, Yesod sheh b'Malchut and to enter the last day of the Omer, Shabbat (Malchut) sheh b'Malchut. While teaching in Charlottesville a few weeks ago and offering a Yesod contemplation, the question became: How has your foundation changed since you were 10…20…30…40…50…60…70…and perhaps beyond?
A good thing about the divine nature of Yesod, or perhaps it's just aging--is accepting material things don't last. Last year our condo up north's furnace imploded and everything became saturated in soot while we were away. Cleaners sent by the insurance company emptied drawers and closets, including those in my study--everything paper was eventually determined to be fodder for the hazardous materials dump.
Gone--cherished letters written in my mother's, father's, aunt's and grandparents' hand, letters and cards from students, the hoped-for photos and some professional documents. WWRZD?! What would Reb Zalman do? I wasn't there when his study flooded in Colorado, so can't say for sure. In this case I imagine he would chuckle, look heavenward and lament: "Ribono shel Olam, did you have to 'press the enter button' so soon? There's still one more day of the Omer yet to go." The enter button was his computerese for expressing that after Yesod comes Malchut and all we can do is let go as the divine will manifests.
Practicing non-attachment, "letting go and letting G*d" as some say, is one way of interpreting the final day of Omer practice—Malchut sheh b'Malchut. In the little booklet about the Sephirot, Reb Zalman teaches that "Malchut is a great dissolver." Apparently so. My soul bows to the divine imperative to manifest its will, not mine.
Shabbat shalom and chag sameach.