The Velocity of Care

On not getting carried away

Now I will do nothing but listen,
To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute toward it.

I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals,
I hear the sound I love, the sound of the human voice….

— Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself”

Our Special Job

In certain strains of Jewish mysticism, it i…