It is Pesach (passover) and as the goya amidst a partially Jewish family, I have been thinking deeply about Mitzrayim (the Hebrew word for Egypt) and Exodus. I struggle with biblical readings. I, like Jacob wrestling with the angel, want the deeper meaning, my real name, catharsis. Without this deeper resonance, dogma is dust in my mouth, offering little nourishment amidst the matzoh and wine. So I study. I read. I reflect. It is the path of a mama who adores all traditions, not for the tradition itself but for the deeper calling echoed within it. The call of consciousness longing for itself. Mitzrayim actually translates into "a place of constriction". AHA! Now that is something I can relate to. Constriction. The bud wrapped, before the bloom. The caterpillar tight in chrysalis...bound. What is it in us that rebels against constriction on one hand and is lulled by its known security on the other. Nature doesn't resist the bud or there would be no flower, no