Miriam sat by the waters in the oasis. Her body weighted down like lead and her mind rang with the spacious emptiness of a bell. She never imagined Hashem existed, much less would send an angel to answer her questions. The depth of the mystery hollowed her out. Life was hard enough without the burden of knowledge so fresh in her mind. She could not move, simply dipping her fingers in the pool and watching the ripples dance across the surface.  She did not see or did not care to see what lurked in the depths. At the heart of the pool, the demon Belphegor slept.  The whole of the oasis arose from the demon. It was a safe, comfortable place from which the outside world disappeared. What comforts it offered dulled the senses and appeared to soften the harshness of the dry world around it. This oasis was less a distraction than it was a false comfort. Water from the pool could not quench the thirst, even though it satisfied the urge to drink. The fruit in the trees could not nourish the body, but satisfied the desire to eat. Within its borders, dreamless sleep offered to rest and the tender grass offered ease, but no relief.  Miriam pondered her life in light of the angel’s message. She was powerless to make change, powerless to stand up. If she did, her death would be little more than a sacrifice on the altar of life, soon forgotten and amounting to nothing. What good was it to know the nature of the world when she had no power to take action against it? In much wisdom is much suffering.  Mumbling to herself, Miriam awoke the demon who mumbled along with her, mimicking her voice and whispering doubts and fears. She did not notice this second voice, and accepted the words as her own. Doubt fed her and confirmed her decision to stay in the oasis. Her heart grew cold. Vines snaked through the grass and embraced her like a warm blanket, offering her comfort as they snared her in their trap.  Miriam smiled a hollow grin that knew no mirth or joy. No danger stalked the oasis she could see. The pain of her life receded away like the sea after an earthquake. Since she couldn’t find a path to a different future, and she didn’t have the tools and the energy to cut her own, what could she do other than sit in the oasis and wait?  It happened one day, a child entered the oasis, or perhaps she had been there the whole time and Miriam hadn’t noticed her.  As she looked back on her life, she remembered a song her mother used to sing to her when she was a child. She didn’t notice when she started humming the tune, only when she heard the little girl sing along to her melody.  At first, she froze, afraid that another intruded on her isolation, but the presence didn’t feel like a threat.  Miriam continued humming the song and listened to the girl’s sweet voice mirroring hers, sometimes harmonizing with her instead. The voice sounded familiar. Her voice reminded Miriam of the tender moments she shared with her family and friends, and the times she felt confirmed in her own self and power.  “Who is there?” Miriam mustered the courage to ask.  The girl danced closer and said, “Don’t you know me? Have you forgotten all the times we played together, worked together, created together, and stood silently, hand in hand, beholding the simple beauty of the sunrise or set? I am the daughter of The Holy One, the princess who wandered from the palace to dance in the world with creation. I am The Shekinah, the very presence of God.”  Miriam pondered the girl’s words in her heart and felt a moment of warmth pulse through her. “Faintly.” “I am with you in your quiet moments and in the loud. In awe, pain, emptiness, creativity, joy, and troublemaking. I am with you always, even when you cannot see me. Have you forgotten me? I will never forget you.” “I did not forget, only I didn’t know it was you,” Miriam said. “I remember you in moments, but not in every moment of my life.” “I have always been with you and will always be with you,” the Shekinah said. “It is okay if you didn’t notice my presence. I can only be seen in the spaciousness opened within you in those mindful moments when the distractions of life fade into the background and you melt into reality as it is.” Miriam took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. “Is this not a beautiful oasis? I think I will stay here and rest until I am ready to return to life in the dry land reigned by the Pharaoh and his Kingdom of fear.” “Sweet child,” the Shekinah said, “This is not an oasis, but a swamp lulling you into a torpor so it can consume you.” Miriam glanced around her, seeing nothing but the oasis. “But it is comfortable here and better than that, it is safe.”  “In this darkness, the mind plays tricks on you,” The Shekinah said “If you want to see this world with clear eyes, you must let your inner light shine and illuminate your surroundings.”  “How do I do that?” Miriam asked.  “Take my hand,” the Shekinah said.  “It cannot be that easy,” Miriam said, “I never said it was easy, only that you needed to take my hand.” The Shekinah said. “Like all fires, this inner flame within you must be fed, but do not fear, it can never go out. You were born with a Divine Spark within you and throughout your life, you will liberate and raise even more holy sparks. These are points of Divine Light and will never grow cold. It is the eternal ember in your heart that can always be invited back to flame so the light within you will grow.”  “How can I feed this fire?” Miriam asked.  “Practice the spiritual arts that call to your heart and take my hand,” the Shekinah said, “No one can tell you what these practices are, you have to seek them out for yourself, seek what calls to you and do those things that fill you up or empty you out that feel as natural to you as breathing. You did not notice me until you started singing, so try singing from your heart and don’t fear what anyone else will say or think about you seeking the pure pleasure of the song.”  Miriam pondered her words in her heart, fighting off her instinct to sing perfectly and please an imagined audience.  Miriam sang, not a song she knew or even faintly remembered, she simply sang following each note with the one that flowed naturally. The more she entered the flow, the brighter her inner light grew, burning away the fog she thought was an oasis until she saw the swamp clearly and the cage grown around her.  “Be not afraid,” the Shekinah said. “Just sing the song of your heart.”  Miriam’s voice grew stronger with the encouragement of the Shekinah. The song billowed her inner flame.  Light burst from her chest. Flames spread to the vines, burning them away, and freeing Miriam to stand.  Hand in hand, singing the great song of life, Miriam and the Shekinah danced out of the swamp.