Embodiment

High Holidays in Five Senses 

As the light and the weather shift in this sacred time of transition, we're invited to enter a new season and a new year. Take a deep breath as you consider how each of your senses connects to the High Holidays.

What do the High Holidays smell like? 

They smell of freshly-baked sweet challah, the vanilla-y pages of an old book, your grandfather’s aftershave, the tang of the etrog and the perfume of lulav branches.

What do the High Holidays feel like?  

They feel like fists beating on chests, shifting your tush on a wooden pew in an unairconditioned sanctuary, running your fingers through the fringes of a tallit, dropping crumbs into the water as you cast your sins away, sticky honey dripping onto your fingers.

What do the High Holidays taste like?  

They taste of honey, pomegranates, apples, dates, carrots and squash, sweet challah with raisins, tsimmes and taiglach, shirin polo and khoresh fesenjan, hoppin john and greens.

What do the High Holidays look like?

They look like a room of people wearing their best new outfits, palm branches carefully placed on top of a tiny hut, the entire scroll of the Torah unrolled and encircling everyone, your grandmother’s china hauled out from its secure hiding place and arranged on the table.

What do the High Holidays sound like?

They sound like the blast of the shofar, the crunch of newly-fallen leaves, the mumbles of people stumbling through prayers said sporadically, shouts of “Shana tova!” and hymns at once deeply familiar and utterly foreign.

God, full of compassion, dwelling as uplift and within, grant perfect rest under Your sheltering Presence, among the holy and pure who shine with heavenly splendor, to the soul of our dear one who has gone to his/her/their reward. May the Garden of Eternity be his/her/their rest. Please, Power of Compassion, shade him/her/them in the shadow of Your wing forever. May his/her/their soul be bound in the bonds of eternal life. May Adonai be his/her/their inheritance, and may he/she/they rest in peace. And let us say, Amen.

Clip source: The Shomer Collective

Caregiving is sacred work. It asks more of your heart, your patience, and your spirit than almost any other calling. You hold, you comfort, you anticipate, you endure. And in giving so much, it’s easy to forget that you, too, deserve tenderness and care.

This collection of rituals was created as a gentle companion for those who care for others: parents, children, partners, professionals, friends. Each ritual is a doorway back to yourself: to breathe, rest, connect, and renew. These practices draw inspiration from Jewish rhythm and spirituality, not to teach or prescribe, but to offer an ancient language for your very modern heart.

You don’t need to be religious to use them. You just need a willingness to pause. To remember that tending to your own spirit is not selfish, it’s what allows you to keep showing up with love.

Take your time with these rituals. Try one each week, or move through them as you feel called. Let them build on each other, layer by layer, until they weave a tapestry of compassion for others, and for yourself.