At age 12, on Rosh HaShanah, I stood on stage, a leader of the kids’ service, a small Torah cradled in my arms, and thought: this is where I want to be forever. At age 19, I left organized religion because of its outrageous sexism, only to return a decade and a half later through alternative Jewish worship and text study. At 45 (the right age for such things) I briefly considered becoming a rabbi. In the handful of years since I’ve turned 50, I’ve thought A LOT about Torah — and written well over 50 poems inspired by the original, unexpurgated, text. At age 54 I got a tattoo, in Hebrew, of the word truth (“emet“) on my right forearm. Truth is something I’ve wondered about all along and on a regular basis. And there you have it. Or you will, if you keep reading the blog.