For example, She creates flowers and ornamental shrubbery; He, lost in His own world, comes up with His pride and joy, an ox ("It's strong!" He tells Her. "Like an I don't know what!"), which, unfortunately, makes its debut in her flower garden. He spends the better part of an eon secreting a rugged pinnacle out of pure testosterone and pluck, while She has been summoning forth--not to be mean, but because she has to get water to Her trampled flowers--rushing torrents, which wear away His mountain and result in an annoying song by Donovan to boot (a completely unforseen outcome). Like the yin and yang of the Buddhists, they are a team pulling in opposition. Somehow the cart manages to skid along the bumpy road with its wheels pointed out.

As a result, the only prayer a Zen Judaist has is to get out of the house, naively thinking that he can get out from under the samsaric wheel. The realization of Irony, the tent pole of Zen Judaism (for the Zen Judaist the opening of the fifth eye, since he already has four), occurs when he finds his mate and soon discovers that being at sixes and sevens is the way of the world. Then and only then has he achieved tsoris, the Buddhist satori, a steady diet of aggravation which, nonetheless, produces results, even if they mostly resemble her.

Moreover, the Zen Judaist mensch (Bodhisattva) now can't help but perceive the duality within himself; he cannot hiccough without saying, "Hi, Mom," or sneeze without thinking, "How you doing, Dad?" His soul mate, too, is such an obvious combination of her mother and father it doesn't bear bringing up, particularly to her. Thus, the Zen Judaist has gone back to the wellhead, drawn up the bucket and put his back out of commission for two weeks. So it is in heaven, where, on the seventh day, the Mom and Pop Gods vowed they would never again take on such an ambitious project without an architect.