Four Lessons in Kabbalah   Lesson One: I have a soul   The door at the end of the hall is slightly open, generating a thin knife of light across the floor. I walk down the hall and stop right in front of it. I am facing a cardboard sign that reads “Sculpture Studio”. Should I knock or to just enter? I knock forcefully. My knuckles swing open the metal door. “Come in” I hear a boyish voice call. I swing the door all the way open, gently. As the high squeaking sound raises every hair on my body, especially my lashes, I see Herman for the first time. I search for the source of the boyish voice that called me to enter. All I see is Herman. I am confused. How could a child’s voice originate in this man’s body?   Herman stands severely hunched over, with his large belly preceding him. His pants are hanging low, as if he has given up on concealing his inflated stomach within them. He is wearing a smock with several clay stains and numerous pockets filled with tools. He is wearing a neon green cap that reads “Herman’s Studio.” His beard looks a few weeks old, but seems too thick and chaotic for its young age. He smiles and the bristles of his face move in sync with his widening mouth. Only then do I notice the room. Herman is standing in a large spacious studio. Strong northern light penetrates the studio from four tall arched windows. The windows remind me of a church I once visited in Italy. Herman is surrounded by easels, canvases, and tools spread out in the room. The shelves close to the wall contain large art books finger marked with clay and brown sculptures covered in plastic.   Herman moves the bench in front of him out of the way with a foot gesture and walks towards me. His asthmatic breathing is thick and loud. His heavy steps and wrinkled forehead indicate he is old. Perhaps he is my parents’ age.