By Sori Magid

 



Today I sit

between two languages.

One says:

accept.

The other says:

trust.

And for a long time

I thought they contradicted each other.

Because acceptance felt like surrender,

like lowering my eyes

to what we cannot afford,

to the numbers that tighten my chest,

to the fear that arrives before morning fully does.

And emuna —

I thought it meant

I should rise above all this.

Smile more.

Fear less.

Believe harder.

But maybe

they were never enemies.

Maybe radical acceptance is simply

placing both feet

inside reality

Instead of bargaining with it.

Saying:

this is where we are today.

Without shame.

Without dramatizing.

Without pretending.

And maybe bitachon

is what allows me

to stay there

without losing myself.

Not certainty.

Not guarantees.

Just the quiet belief

that reality is not the same thing as abandonment.

That God can exist

inside unanswered questions.

Inside spreadsheets.

Inside trembling.

That trust does not require me

to stop being human.

So today I let acceptance hold the truth:

I am scared.

I am activated.

I do not know how everything will work out.

And I let emuna whisper beside it:

you do not carry this alone.

And somewhere between those two voices

my body unclenches

just enough

to breathe.


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