My love of Light is deep and passionate. Dipping into light is an offering of its affirmations, paying homage to those who ventured onto higher ground and returned with sparks of Light.
The title is inspired by the poet Mary Oliver, who portrays prayer as a dipping of oneself toward the light.¹ Why “prayer”? I view my work, within the wheel of existence, as prayer. The journey into light is a journey of faith—rooted in the notion that grace, forgiveness, and compassion are woven into the very fabric of the universe.
Readers traditionally comprehend the introduction of Light in Genesis as a physical act, but it is also spiritual metaphor for the dawning of human consciousness.
Light makes Homo sapiens fully human, possessing dual citizenship in both the numinous foundation of Darkness—where embryos are nourished and dreams are formed—and God’s eldest daughter. These two domains are complementary, created to cross-pollinate for the well-being of a life overflowing with promise for all that followed.
Light and love are deeply intertwined; if light provides insight, then insight leads to the most transformative human force, love. This truth is distilled by Dylan Thomas, who called love “the last light spoken.” Henry Miller later expanded on this mystifying force, capturing its universal reach: “If there is anything that deserves to be called miraculous, is it not love? What other power, what other mysterious force is there which can invest life with such undeniable splendor? The miracle which everyone is permitted to experience sometime in his life, the miracle which demands no intervention, no intercession, no supreme exertion of will, the miracle which is open to the fool and the coward as well as the hero and saint, is love. Born of an instant, it lives eternally.” Ultimately, this miraculous transition from light to life finds its sacred anchor in 1 John 3:14: “We know we have passed from death unto life, because we love.”
Light, like love, gives of itself freely, filling all available spaces. It does not seek anything in return; it asks not whether you are friend or foe. It gives and is not thereby diminished. As experienced by the contemporary spiritual teacher Eckhart Tolle: “The first light of dawn was filtering through the curtains. Without any thought, I felt, I knew, that there is infinitely more to light than we realize. That soft luminosity filtering through the curtains was love itself. Tears came into my eyes. I got up and walked around the room. I recognized the room, and yet I knew that I had never truly seen it before. Everything was fresh and pristine, as if it had just come into existence. I picked up things, a pencil, an empty bottle, marveling at the beauty and aliveness of it all.”
With humility, excitement, and heartfelt joy, I welcome you to my domain.
Abraham Menashe
New York City, January 1, 2014
¹ Mary Oliver, Winter Hours (Houghton Mifflin, 1999), 108
New York City, January 1, 2014
¹ Mary Oliver, Winter Hours (Houghton Mifflin, 1999), 108