That time of year again...

Rosh Hashana is tomorrow. Everyone's statuses on facebook are saying, happy Rosh Hashana, kesiva vachasima tova, etc. People are calling me and emailing me to wish me a good new year.

All I want to do is say, please, stop. No, not yet. I'm not ready for this.

I am so nervous, my stomach is literally in a knot. This happens every year and I think, I just did this last year, we have to do this agaiiiinn??

Here's my feelings on Rosh Hashana- am I ready for it? (No.) Have I prepared enough for it? (No.) If I had more time would I ever be ready? (No.)

I am not cooking or buying food for Rosh Hashana. I am just showing up. Have I prepared for it spiritually in any way? In all honesty, probably not.

I just got back from shopping, I got some new outfits for Yom Tov. Which is nice, but I don't think that will help me with G-d in any way.

Can I seclude myself the whole Yom Tov and say tehillim? Not really, I am going to be a guest at a family with 8 kids ka''h.

So how do I prepare for Rosh Hashana with what little time I have left? And how do I make sure that this Rosh Hashana is as meaningful and spiritual as it can be?

I honestly don't know. I am waiting for inspiration to strike.

This year, I have nothing to tell you. I have nothing yo share with you. This year, I am waiting for you to inspire me. Big expectations.

If I stopped to think of all the people I should probably call and email to wish them a good Yom Tov, I would honestly freeze. How many people should I be asking forgiveness from? How many people would feel left out if I didn't wish them a gut yom tov? I'd like to think none. About the former, at least.

But this is how I do it every year. I send out a mass email, or facebook status, or blog post, and I say what I want to say. And I hope that it will reach the people that it is intended for.

This is what I want to say:

I wish all of you a good gebentched yar, beruchnius ubegashmius, may you all have a meaningful and spiritually uplifting Rosh Hashana, may you have the words to say what you need to say, and may you be granted many brachos, everything that G-d knows you need for the year, and everything that you want, be it a job, a shidduch, children, health, better relationships, to be a better person, etc.

May this be the year that we are all taken out of Golus with Moshiach now, and may it happen before the end of Yom Tov!

Kesiva vachasima tova, and a SWEET new year to you all.

Sincerly, Altie

Mi amo

tình yêu của tôi

my liefde

حبي

मेरा प्यार

mon amour

מיין ליבע

моя любов

האהבה שלי

il mio amore

saya cinta

mijn liefde

minu armastus

moje láska

moja ljubav

moja miłość

meine Liebe

dashuria ime

It means the same in any language. It can be the symbol of a heart. Or fancy letters. It can be a rose, or chocolate. A hug or a kiss. But it all translates into the same thing. 

Mi amo. My love.

But we have to ask ourselves, what is love, really? 

Thousands of songs are written about it, millions of poems and quotes. From the beginning of time people have been trying to figure out what it is, and to navigate the treacherous waters. Can anyone say they really know what it is? Have experienced it? 

There are lyrics to a song that goes: 

"What is love, 

baby don't hurt me, 

don't hurt me no more."

Does that mean that love hurts? That loving someone, or being loved by someone is painful? Or is it the removal of love that is painful? The possibility that someone will leave you, that the love will suddenly end?

Once you have loved, can it really end? Where does the love go? Does it just disappear? 

I wonder if

anyone has ever really loved another.

I wonder if

love really exists. 

Does love transcend time and space? Is love everlasting? Or is that just a myth? 

They say that the way you know that you are in love is when all those silly love songs suddenly make sense. 

I always thought, when you know, you know. You know? 

But what if you don't know?

What is love truly, mi amo?

Cattle Cars

The crowd surges forward as if by force.
Pushed in by the hundreds, piled on top of each other.
Holding on to each other for support.
The train jerks and sways, pushing people back and forth.

Packed to capacity, more people are shoved in.
The doors close.
There is no room to fall.
Hardly any air to breath.

Once, the doors were locked.
There was no escape.
People cried. Pleaded. Begged to be set free.
But were sent to their deaths.

Now, there is laughter.
The cars are air-conditioned.
The ride is short.
The people, moderately polite.

And at the end, the doors will open with a beep.
The people will spill out,
and go their separate ways.
Whether to work, or home, or to the movies.

But always, always,
to freedom.

The start of something new

In ten years from now, I wouldn't be able to tell you what I ate for breakfast that morning.
I couldn't tell you how long it took me to get ready to go.
I'm not sure I would remember what the weather was like outside.

The passersby were a blur.
The music I listened to unmemorable.
My brain kind of on pause.

I didn't notice anything different.
The colors weren't any brighter.
The sun wasn't shining.
I wasn't suddenly struck by inspiration.

But something was different.
Something had changed.
I wondered if everyone felt it too.

This would be the day,
the start of something new,
that I would remember for the rest of my life.

Where will YOU be this Rosh Hashana?

Based on a talk by Rabbi Manis Friedman.

How can I practically do teshuva in the month of elul?

Doing aveiros hurts Hashem. Teshuva means to go back to Him. To return. In elul Hashem comes out to the field to tell you that you are welcome in his palace. He doesn't want you to doubt whether or not you are welcome. He wants to make sure that you will come. Elul is not a time to scare you into doing teshuva. Hashem wants us to come to his 'palace' because he needs us there. Teshuva means, will Hashem's request reach you? Does it mean anything to you that he wants you there? Will you go, or are you so far removed that it doesn't touch you?

It says, that if an engaged woman gets raped in the city, then her and the man who raped her are killed. Why? Because in a city if she would have screamed then we assume someone would have heard her. But if she was raped in a field, only the man who raped her is killed, because we assume that she screamed and there was no one there to help her.

The Rebbe says, if a girl is engaged and raped 'basadeh' then she is forgiven because 'Ain moshia la'- no one helped her. But instead of reading it as 'ain' no one, we read it as 'ayin' which means an eye. If no one helps her than Hashem, the eye will come himself to help her. He comes to the field, to the girl he is engaged to and says, no matter what happened, I forgive you.

Hashem knows that inside we really want to be good Jews. In elul he comes to the field and tells us that no matter what we have done, he forgives us and wants to be with us.

The baal shemtov says our relationship to Hashem is like a marriage. If there is no room for someone else than you can't be frum. Hashem created the world because he didn't want to be alone.

Real love is loving someone who either loves you or hates you. But you can't love someone who doesn't love you back.

Hashem is a romantic. He created the whole world for us so we would appreciate the fact that he wanted a relationship with us. Without a relationship Judaism is a horrible religion.

It says, 'im bechukosai telechu'- Hashem is asking us to please follow his rules. Your marriage will be just like your relationship to Hashem.

Marriage used to be sacred. They treated Hashem right and it carried over to their marriage. One follows the other. Marriage can exist without a good relationship but then there is no pleasure in it.

By kriyas yam suf, yechezkul saw the waters hovering over bnei yisroel and said, if you sin Hashem will kill you, the waters will close over you. But the shifcha (non-Jew) saw a great act of kindness. Hashem split the sea to save us from the Egyptions.

Tishrei Is a time of judgement. But Hashem is not judging us, He is judging galus and the yetzer harah, and all of Hashem's regrets. Hashem wants us to stop sinning because we are his children. When hashem is upset with us it is a compliment, it shows that he cares. It bothers hashem when we sin because he loves us.

So the question is, where will YOU be this Rosh hashana?

Sukkos weather

Cold air hits my face
I am propelled up the street as if by a force all its own.
My nose runs.
My hands are numb.

People marvel at how cold it is outside.
But I like it.
Even though it signals winter and the end of summer.
It is refreshing.

I walk fast and it warms me.
I know inside it'll be hot.
I am not ready for that.
So I sit on a bench and huddle in my sweater.

I can't text, my hands are cold.
I eat candy and reminisce about the past.
We sit there, summer, winter, fall, rain or shine.
And everything is okay.

Our laughter rings out in the street.
Whispered words too scandalous to say out loud.
Heads turn.
But we do not try to attract attention.

In our bubble, no one else exists.
Besides for us, and our inside jokes.
Night has fallen
and it is time to go inside.

The clocks ticks.
The house is quiet.
I am smiling
and everything is alright.

Power

Sometimes you think you've hit rock bottom, and that there is no where to go but up. And then you realize you were mistaken, it is a false bottom and you are still falling. How much farther can you go?

Ripped photographs. Frantic. Desperation. It is a time long gone. A time of beauty, of happiness. You swill that word around in your mouth. It feels weird, foreign, unfamiliar. Some people spend their whole lives searching for happiness. Some never have to look for it. You want to hate those people and pray for their downfall. But that makes you bitter and evil. And no one likes bitter people.

You look at the past and think, what happened? You remember the girl in the photograph. Was she happy? Is that a real smile? You'd like to think so, if only to give hope to the fact that there once was happiness and will be again. But what if that is a fake smile forever captured on glossy paper? What if happiness is an illusion, never to be owned, only borrowed?

What is happiness, and can true happiness ever be obtained?

You ponder this in the whee hours of the night. Puzzle, or sudoku? That is the ultimate choice right now.

You laugh at things like videoBB, and malawach, because they are inside jokes. But where are those people who you shared them with? Those times are gone, only the memory remains. It is still funny, but for a time. After awhile the laughter will fade away... and with it the memories. And then you cannot remember why you ever found it so funny in the first place.

Sometimes you want to take the ultimate deep breath and walk away. You want to breath so deeply and for so long that you forget how. That suffocating feeling comes creeping up on you, when you least expect it. It can hit you in middle of the street, on the subway, when you are sleeping. It makes you gasp for air like you are a drowning man. And in a way, you are.

You wonder what it would be like if you could be anyone else. If you were granted one wish, if you got to pick who you wanted to be, and one tool you'd take with you. Who would you choose? What would it be? Would you want to be anyone else, or would you recognize that you are you and no one would want to be you? Or more positively put, that you cannot be anyone else, for that is a fleeting fantasy. You will wake up one day, in your own bed, in your pajamas and realize, you lived your life as someone else, but it was a lie. You have work to do, and you have wasted years of your life. So why be wasteful?

When they say "in one ear and out the other", were they referring to you? Do you listen when people talk to you? Has the written word no power at all?

People get tattoos to remember things. Slogans, people. Words of empowerment. Why do they have to remember? Lest they forget?

Once upon a time, we were all the same. We started off the same. We were not made the same. Does that not make us all equals? We came into this world both naked and bare. Then you, you rose above this world and slime, you took what you believed to be owed to you, you used it to get what you wanted. Manipulative? Maybe. But it got you that much farther ahead, did it not?

While others, they sit, still naked and bare, nothing to show for their time here on earth. They seethe with anger, because they started out the same as you and yet now you are unrecognizable. You are clothed. Your hair grew long. You eat from a spoon of gold.

So what is the difference between you and them?

That is something which will take a lifetime to understand.

And in the meantime, you smile and exploit people and situations. Ah, but you have forgotten where you came from. Once upon a time, you were nothing. And you will go back to nothing.

One day, it'll all make sense.

But for now, I sit here and stare up at the gold moon, wondering how complex this life really is, and how much of it we, ourselves create.

Cruel Irony

It's like, when I fall down
you don't help me up.
You laugh at me.
And kick me down again.

Ir's like, when you ask me if I want to know something.
And I tell you yes.
But you laugh and don't tell me anything.
Would it have been better had I said no? Would you have told me then?

Or are you just cruel irony in disguise?
Do you wear the guise of a friend?
Do you dress up in pink and confetti and lure me in?
And then bite me when I get too close?

It's like, I try so hard.
Everyone keeps asking me what's going on.
My answer is always the same.
Nothing's going on.

The cruel irony is
that things were working out, and everything was going swell.
Or so it seemed.
But no, that wasn't good enough for you.

How cruelly ironic it is
that when I let down my guard and relax a bit
THAT is when you pounce.
You take it all away from me in a second.

And so I sit here
body ridden with germs
neck stiff at a weird angle.
Wondering what happened and where I went wrong.

And how I can possibly fix this.

Let the title speak for itself.

“Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America, there will be no forgetting September the 11th. We will remember every rescuer who died in honor. We will remember every family that lives in grief. We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls, the funerals of the children. “
- President George W. Bush, November 11, 2001


“Now, we have inscribed a new memory alongside those others. It’s a memory of tragedy and shock, of loss and mourning. But not only of loss and mourning. It’s also a memory of bravery and self-sacrifice, and the love that lays down its life for a friend–even a friend whose name it never knew. “
- President George W. Bush, December 11, 2001

Little girls and strawberries, old ladies and bad perfume

Little babies are so cute. They come in many shapes and sizes. Skinny and light as air, pudgy, some are ugly truth be told, and some look like they belong on the cover of pampers diapers. But they are cute. You want to hold them and cuddle with them. You want to squeeze them tight and never let them go. My friend always says, I want that one, and I say sorry sweetie, that one is taken, you will just have to wait until you have one of your own.

What is it about little kids that make you want to kiss them? Pinch their cheeks, throw them in the air? Try kissing a little boy of 7. He will probably wipe his face and say 'stoooop!', like you just got 'cooties' all over him.

Then you get to an age where kissing is weird and awkward. Would you kiss your teenage friends on the cheek? I doubt it. You watch old ladies doing it in greeting and you think, that will never be me.

And then you grow up. You become a 20-something and you are so old and mature. Then it starts. You see your mother's friend at a lechaim, she leans in and gives you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Sometimes it's an 'air kiss', a quick mwa mwa. It's still weird, but you feel as if you have been initiated into some secret club, a society if you will. You are old enough now that it is not weird to kiss someone on the cheek in greeting, it is mandated. And then you wonder if you are now 'old' or have just grown up. Maybe it is one and the same.

I love the smell of babies. Shampoo. Clean clothes. A smell unique to them. It is the smell of innocence. It is not the smell of cheap cologne, or 'old lady perfume'. It is not the smell of cigarettes or beer. Yes sometimes they smell like spit-up or poop. But most of the time they are just so perfect.

Try holding on to that feeling when you are watching 6 kids and finally get them all to fall asleep, collapse on the couch in exhaustion... and 'whaaaaaa!'. And when one of them starts, it is like that arcade game where the alligator heads keep bopping up and you just have to keep pushing them down.

Then babysitting is over and you hand them over to their mother and you leave and forget all the crying and the dirty diapers and the spit-up all over you and you say awwww babies are so cute I can't wait to have one of my own.

Thank G-d you only have one at a time.

Wake me up

Standing in the gloom.
Don't wanna move.
Just get me there okay.
Even though I wanna stay.

Huddled in a sweater.
Can this get any better?
Damp and cold.
Just an umbrella to hold.

Can't see much ahead.
Trusting you instead.
Headlights in the fog.
Pretending nothing's wrong.

Just a purse to call my own.
If I never went back home.
But alas the jury calls.
Can't sleep much after all.

Wake me up when September ends.
And yet September has already come.
And will have already gone.
Before I am ready to face it.

One stop at a time

It is hard to do things all at once. "I will quit smoking cold turkey." "Diet starts tomorrow". I'm sure you've heard all of them. People make resolutions and they don't end up sticking to them. It is not because people can't do it, or won't do it, or do not have the strength to do it, although for some people this is the case. Most of the time when someone cannot accomplish a goal they set out for themselves, it is because they took on too much at once.

But what about doing things little by little?

In regards to taking on 'hachlatos' (resolutions) in Judaism, such as davening every day, keeping Shabbos or Kashrus, or something as simple as wearing a longer skirt, we are told not to take on too much at once, otherwise there is the risk that we might end up dumping all of them. If you take on one thing and stick at it for awhile, it will become a part of you and it won't be so hard to do. And then you can take on more.

Today I walked to Williamsburg. From Crown Heights. (If you are familiar with Brooklyn, you know they are quite a distance from each other.) It took me about an hour and twenty minutes. What is funny is that had I set out to walk to Williamsburg I probably would have been overwhelmed at the distance, and given up right away.

But I just wanted to take the bus. I didn't plan in walking.

Today was Labor Day. In Crown Heights it is synonymous with the West Indies day parade, in which African Americans celebrate the culture of the Caribbean Islands. People dress up in costume, wear their national flag, play really loud music, and have fun. It takes place on Eastern Parkway, the main thorough fair in Crown Heights.

Because of the vast amount of people, (from one million to three million) it is really difficult to cross Eastern Parkway. It took about twenty minutes. Once I got across, I had to wait for the bus, which was running on a different schedule, and had been rerouted. Since it wasn't coming for awhile, I decided to walk until I found a store to buy a drink, and then wait at the next bus stop.

I still didn't see the bus. I just kept walking. My thought was, just one more bus stop. Why bother standing here idly waiting for a bus that I don't know when will come? I might as well use the time and make the distance shorter. So I walked from bus stop to bus stop, keeping an eye on the street for a bus that never came. Maybe they weren't running, I don't know. But no bus ever passed me by.

And finally, I was in Williamsburg. I was tired and sweaty, but I didn't even care. I saved 2.25 on the bus fair, (not that I really care) and it was a great walk. (Though afterwards my father told me I had walked through a bad neighborhood. What I don't know can't hurt me, right? At least in retrospect.)

So if you ever set out to accomplish a big goal, break it up into small increments that you can handle. Take it one step at a time, one day at a time, one thing at a time.

And eventually, you will get there.

Even if it takes a lifetime.

It can't be

My mind refuses to believe what my eyes are seeing.

It can't be. It can't.

What I want to know is how. Because if you can't tell me how it happened then maybe it didn't happen. I refuse to believe it. I want someone to confirm it. Better, I want it to be a mistake.

Anger. I am so angry. And I just don't understand.

They call it a 'tragedy'. They say 'With great sadness and deep pain' but what do they know about pain? I doubt they even knew him.

Did I know him? He must have been 7 when I first saw him. My brother's age. We all played in the backyard together. He watched his little siblings. Sometimes he was annoying. Sometimes I teased him. For the way he talked. For the way he looked.

And then I moved away and never thought about any of them again.

His levaya is tomorrow. I have no idea how he passed away. I can't even say the words. I can't believe it.

Most of the time it's sad, but when it's someone you know, even vaguely... it hits harder. I am still reeling from the blow.

So please G-d, turn back the clock and make it not happen.

I feel like screaming. And I still don't understand it!

Hi, it's Mommy

That's what she always says when she calls. So simple. But sometimes I save her message in voice mail and play it back when I check my messages. It is reassuring.

Her voice is familiar, her words are familiar. She calls to tell me news. She calls to say hi. She calls to check on me.

I say 'hi ma, why are you calling?' (Well not so abrupt like that, but I work it into the conversation.)

She says she just wanted to say hi.

This is an ode to my mother whom I love so much. It is not mother's day. It is not her birthday. But if you ever get that warm protected feeling like there is someone who cares beyond physical belief, like you can fall and they will catch you- you know what I'm talking about.

"Hi ma, I'm just calling to say hi".

And she understands.