Hello Sukkos, I've missed you, the holiday that comes only once a year. I was so looking forward to spending some time with you, for 8 days.
Then came the rain. Big, fat drops streaking across my window, lending the appearance of teardrops. But I'm not crying. Not this time. This was supposed to be a good year. This is going to be a good year.
So then, what is it you are saying? That you don't want us? Should we sit outside anyway, in the cold wet rainy night?
There will be those who say, "Women don't need to eat in a Sukkah", or "Women are not obligated to shake lulov and esrog". To them I say, how can you take away this special mitzvah from the ones who work so hard to prepare for this yom tov? You are basically telling them, no need to try harder, your efforts don't count.
But we know that is not true. We have higher standards. We go 'lifnim meshuras hadin', beyond the letter of the law. I have never sat inside on Sukkos, and I don't plan to start this year.
I don't know how this will work. I left my rain boots at home.
I always had a weird thought about Yom Kippur. The prayer of ne'ila, we say, is signifying that the gates of heaven are closing, and it is the last moment for us to pray for a good year. I always found that a bit sad, until I read on Chabad.org that the gates are closing, with us on the inside. We are not left outside the palace, in the cold and the rain. We are invited inside, to the warmth, to sit by the fire and bask in the presence of Hakadosh Baruch Hu.
And when the rain splish-splashes into your chicken soup, and you are huddled in a sweater for warmth, and all you want to do is go inside- go beyond your comfort. Enjoy your Yom Tov meal, along with the Ushpizin.
May we all merit to spend this Sukkos in Hashem's great Sukkah, in Yerushalayaim with Moshiach Now!
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Saturday, September 29, 2012
JustaGuy
Just a guy.
Passing through.
As they all tend to do.
They all like to assert themselves in different ways.
He refused directions.
Maybe is was a macho kind of thing.
It didn't impress me.
He called me 'ebullient'. I had to look it up in the dictionary.
I laughed. No one would ever describe me as such. e·bul·lient. Ha.
By now the details are fuzzy.
His face.
His name.
What was spoken about.
Just a guy,
Is all he was.
Soon, I won't remember him at all.
Maybe the next one will be better.
Or the next one.
Or the one after that.
No way to know.
I hope I can muster enough enthusiasm,
For The Guy.
In a weird way, I feel so... normal.
Normal is so boring.
Does that make me.... boring?
It's funny the things you end up remembering.
You can't erase an experience, even if you want to.
Do you want to?
Leave it on the Timeline of your brain.
Let it be a learning experience.
Call it Growth.
He is.
Was.
Always will be.
JustaGuy.
Until one day,
I'll meet someone.
Who will turn out,
Not to be,
JustaGuy
After all.
Passing through.
As they all tend to do.
They all like to assert themselves in different ways.
He refused directions.
Maybe is was a macho kind of thing.
It didn't impress me.
He called me 'ebullient'. I had to look it up in the dictionary.
I laughed. No one would ever describe me as such. e·bul·lient. Ha.
By now the details are fuzzy.
His face.
His name.
What was spoken about.
Just a guy,
Is all he was.
Soon, I won't remember him at all.
Maybe the next one will be better.
Or the next one.
Or the one after that.
No way to know.
I hope I can muster enough enthusiasm,
For The Guy.
In a weird way, I feel so... normal.
Normal is so boring.
Does that make me.... boring?
It's funny the things you end up remembering.
You can't erase an experience, even if you want to.
Do you want to?
Leave it on the Timeline of your brain.
Let it be a learning experience.
Call it Growth.
He is.
Was.
Always will be.
JustaGuy.
Until one day,
I'll meet someone.
Who will turn out,
Not to be,
JustaGuy
After all.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Stop calling me
I can't think of 8. All I can come up with is texting, or emailing. Maybe voicemail. Or chat. BBM if you have a Blackberry.
I hate when people call me when I am sleeping, or have recently woken up. The first thing they ask me is 'Did I just wake you up?'. That is a dumb question for many reasons. If you did just wake me up, what are you going to do about it? Hang up? I'm already up, so say what you called to say, and get it over with. If you did just wake me up and I lie and say you didn't to make you feel better, but we both know I'm lying, do you feel any better? And I still just woke up. So if my voice sounds fuzzy with sleep- don't ask me dumb questions, because that is when I have the least patience for it.
The first time I got a phone call and chose to ignore it- nothing happened. My phone didn't blow up. The person who called didn't show up at my door and say 'Ha! I knew you were ignoring me!'. I just looked at my phone and it felt so liberating. I am no longer a slave to my phone. You can call, and if I don't want to talk to you I won't answer. Maybe leave me a message if it's important. Maybe I will get back to you later. Maybe I will even say 'Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't hear my phone because _________________' (insert brilliant fake excuse here.)
Yes, I am a product of my generation. Yes, I fall back on texting way too often. If all you need to say can fit into 160 characters or less, than why bother me with a phone call? I got a call from someone once and all she wanted was the phone number of a mutual friend. By the time she made that clear, we were 5 minutes into the conversation, and I was grasping at things to say to keep the conversation going. All she wanted was a phone number. I ended up texting it to her anyway. Who writes down phone numbers anymore?
Sometimes I'm just not in the mood to talk to you. Or to anyone. So don't call me. Just send me a text. If it sounds important, I will call you back. If not, we can have a heated conversation via text, with emoticons and everything.
The only person I would pick up for anytime is my mother. Because, well, she can't text. She doesn't own a cell phone. And she would end up leaving me a 5 minute long message anyway, which I would listen to, and then call her back, and then she would just repeat the whole message. So let's just cut to the chase. (Hi Ma!).
First there were letters. Beautiful, handwritten, snail mail genuine letters. The kinds that are now preserved in museums. The kind that are mostly extinct.
Then came the phone. When you can have hours long conversations with your friends, laying on your bed with your feet kicking in the air, giggling about some gossip that is only important to a teenager. That is a bygone era as well. Like, waaaaay back in the 90's.
Then came the cell phone. The big, clunky, "I'm so cool I have a cell phone even though it's as big as a house" phone. Calling people on the go? You can always stay connected!
Then it just kept on improving. The invention of the text. A miracle. Now, we can both be sitting in the same room, not talking, not making a sound, and we can text each other. No need to look at you, I can see your smiley clearly on the screen. You said something funny? No problem. I'll just reply with an 'lol'. Get used to it, it's the new mode of dating.
You think I'm joking, but I'm not. No really. Don't call me.
Have a good Shabbos :-)
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Boys will be boys
It's a universal thing, really. No matter the language, boys are pretty much the same. They act the same. They sound the same. Yes, there is definitely a cultural divide. But that does not change the fact that they are boys.
Car trouble? No problem. Even if they have never driven in their lives, even if they have never taken a look under a hood of a car, they will step up to help. Why? Because they have testosterone and a need to impress.
What did I think would happen when I had the radio playing on low, with a few Israeli guys in my car? My car, my rules. I was going to turn it off thinking, Erev Yom Kippur is not the best time to listen to secular music, when I heard them singing along to it. Ma ze shtuyot? I am not impressed.
Give them a little mashke, get a farbrengin going, and they really get into it.
There is something fun about driving with a car full of boys. Especially when they are talking heatedly in a language you can barely understand.
My Yom Kippur was exhausting and draining. And unfortunately, the kids did not save me any gushers from the children's program. Oh well. Maybe next year.
Looking forward to Sukkos! Wishing everyone a happy and sweet year.
Car trouble? No problem. Even if they have never driven in their lives, even if they have never taken a look under a hood of a car, they will step up to help. Why? Because they have testosterone and a need to impress.
What did I think would happen when I had the radio playing on low, with a few Israeli guys in my car? My car, my rules. I was going to turn it off thinking, Erev Yom Kippur is not the best time to listen to secular music, when I heard them singing along to it. Ma ze shtuyot? I am not impressed.
Give them a little mashke, get a farbrengin going, and they really get into it.
There is something fun about driving with a car full of boys. Especially when they are talking heatedly in a language you can barely understand.
My Yom Kippur was exhausting and draining. And unfortunately, the kids did not save me any gushers from the children's program. Oh well. Maybe next year.
Looking forward to Sukkos! Wishing everyone a happy and sweet year.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
The chicken thing
Sensory overload. That's all I can think of. Too many people, too many lights, too much noise. I feel the urge to curl up inside myself, cover my eyes and ears, and block it all out.
This year it is just me. My family is not here. That's okay, I'm a big girl, I can do this by myself. Except I don't want to. I hate doing this alone. Last year my friend swung the chicken for me. This year she is far away.
I call my mother and complain. Why are all these people here. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be around people. I don't want to celebrate Yom Kippur.
She throws suggestions at me. Stay home. Daven by yourself. She offers to call my brother to come swing the chicken for me. Or my sister in law's brother. I said no thank you Ma, I don't need their help. I don't shriek from touching a chicken. I'm not that kind of girl. But I'd rather not do it by myself.
In a crowd of people you kind of just do what everyone else is doing. So I get on the line marked 'women'. I wait in line. I pay for the chicken. I get a ticket.
Then I just stand there, in the middle of the street, in the middle of the noise, in the middle of the chaos, all alone, confused, unsure of what to do, where to go, how to do this on my own.
And Hashem sends me an angel, in the form of a little boy named Shmulik. He looks to be maybe 15. He is clearly Israeli, but speaks English pretty well. He says, 'Do you want me to do it for you'?
I am suspicious. I ask him if he knows English. I ask him if he will get me a girl chicken. I ask him if he is trying to scam me. He doesn't understand everything I'm saying. He takes my ticket and gets me a chicken.
Again, suspicion. How do you know it's a girl chicken. Will you run off with my chicken? I say the prayers, and he starts swinging it. All the while I'm thinking, what's his deal? Why is he helping me?
When I'm done, I follow him to make sure he is taking it to the right place. He tells me to get on line. He tells me to watch them shecht the chicken. I tell him I've never done this before and I'm completely lost. He tells me to throw sand on the blood and to say the blessing.
I asked him (skeptically) if he wants anything from me. He says I can give him a tip if I want. So I give him a dollar. I ask him his name. He says Shmulik. I say thank you very much for your help.
And then I run out of there as fast as I can. Away from the smell, away from the bright lights, away from the people.
But I felt so much better, and just a little less alone, thanks to the help of a kind stranger. Who make a buck off of me. Pretty good deal, if you ask me.
Wishing everyone a healthy and spiritual Yom Kippur, and may all of your prayers be answered for all of your heart's desires. I am hoping and praying for a good year, with Moshiach now.
This year it is just me. My family is not here. That's okay, I'm a big girl, I can do this by myself. Except I don't want to. I hate doing this alone. Last year my friend swung the chicken for me. This year she is far away.
I call my mother and complain. Why are all these people here. I don't want to do this. I don't want to be around people. I don't want to celebrate Yom Kippur.
She throws suggestions at me. Stay home. Daven by yourself. She offers to call my brother to come swing the chicken for me. Or my sister in law's brother. I said no thank you Ma, I don't need their help. I don't shriek from touching a chicken. I'm not that kind of girl. But I'd rather not do it by myself.
In a crowd of people you kind of just do what everyone else is doing. So I get on the line marked 'women'. I wait in line. I pay for the chicken. I get a ticket.
Then I just stand there, in the middle of the street, in the middle of the noise, in the middle of the chaos, all alone, confused, unsure of what to do, where to go, how to do this on my own.
And Hashem sends me an angel, in the form of a little boy named Shmulik. He looks to be maybe 15. He is clearly Israeli, but speaks English pretty well. He says, 'Do you want me to do it for you'?
I am suspicious. I ask him if he knows English. I ask him if he will get me a girl chicken. I ask him if he is trying to scam me. He doesn't understand everything I'm saying. He takes my ticket and gets me a chicken.
Again, suspicion. How do you know it's a girl chicken. Will you run off with my chicken? I say the prayers, and he starts swinging it. All the while I'm thinking, what's his deal? Why is he helping me?
When I'm done, I follow him to make sure he is taking it to the right place. He tells me to get on line. He tells me to watch them shecht the chicken. I tell him I've never done this before and I'm completely lost. He tells me to throw sand on the blood and to say the blessing.
I asked him (skeptically) if he wants anything from me. He says I can give him a tip if I want. So I give him a dollar. I ask him his name. He says Shmulik. I say thank you very much for your help.
And then I run out of there as fast as I can. Away from the smell, away from the bright lights, away from the people.
But I felt so much better, and just a little less alone, thanks to the help of a kind stranger. Who make a buck off of me. Pretty good deal, if you ask me.
Wishing everyone a healthy and spiritual Yom Kippur, and may all of your prayers be answered for all of your heart's desires. I am hoping and praying for a good year, with Moshiach now.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Nostalgia
Sometimes I miss it a lot. The past. The people we have left behind. Sometimes that feeling hits me. Nostalgia. A familiar face. A familiar scent. Flitting memories, that we have pushed away, tried to forget. They come back to us, at odd hours. At 4 in the morning, when we should be sleeping.
And for a moment, a wistful feeling steals over you. For that time, that place, that person. The familiarity.
But only briefly. And then it is gone, replaced with the present. The here and now. The future.
Because the future stretches out, bright, and clear. And the past- it is no more.
Sometimes I miss it. But then I look back over this past year, and I remember how far I have come. I look forward towards the future, and I feel optimistic. There is so much that I have accomplished, and so much more that I still want to do. There are so many good people in my life, and so many more that I can't wait to meet.
And the places we have been and the people we have left behind- it doesn't exist anymore. A small smile plays at your lips, and your heart is light. Everything is okay, the world is silent, and it really is time to go to bed.
4 AM- we have got to stop meeting like this. Too much time to think is never a good thing.
And for a moment, a wistful feeling steals over you. For that time, that place, that person. The familiarity.
But only briefly. And then it is gone, replaced with the present. The here and now. The future.
Because the future stretches out, bright, and clear. And the past- it is no more.
Sometimes I miss it. But then I look back over this past year, and I remember how far I have come. I look forward towards the future, and I feel optimistic. There is so much that I have accomplished, and so much more that I still want to do. There are so many good people in my life, and so many more that I can't wait to meet.
And the places we have been and the people we have left behind- it doesn't exist anymore. A small smile plays at your lips, and your heart is light. Everything is okay, the world is silent, and it really is time to go to bed.
4 AM- we have got to stop meeting like this. Too much time to think is never a good thing.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
'Our kind'?
There is an unfortunate close-minded mentality in Crown Heights. Frum people in general seem to have this 'closed group' attitude. Which is fine, I'm Jewish, you're Jewish, let's stick together. We try our best to keep outer influences to a minimum.
But what of Racism? It is prevalent in New York, and it makes me uncomfortable.
I was at the laundromat, and some guy came over to tell me that a lady wasn't feeling well. I went over to check. She was sitting on a chair with her head down, not moving. I thought maybe she was tired. I asked her if she was okay. She shook her head no. I asked her if she wanted water. She shook her head no. I asked her if she wanted an ambulance. She didn't really respond. Another lady was a nurse and tried asking her what her symptoms were.
I decided someone should do something, so I called 911. It is a weird feeling to have to call. I have only called them once before, thank G-d. They go through a whole process. What is the emergency? Address? Who is the patient? How old is she? They dispatched me to ambulance services. They asked me more questions. Then told me an ambulance was on the way.
20 minutes later it still wasn't there. The lady was laying on two chairs, moaning, complaining of stomach pains. I didn't know what to do, and I was getting nervous. So I decided to call Hatzalah (the Jewish ambulance service.) They came within 5 minutes.
The first guy attended to the lady, he seemed nice. The thing about Hatzala is they come in droves. About 3 more guys showed up, and an ambulance, even before the 911 emergency service came.
Here's where it gets a little uncomfortable. One of the guys was looking around. He saw me. I was obviously the only frum person there. The lady who was in pain is African American. I did the right thing by calling Hatzala. A person is a person no matter what, and I should do what I can to help.
The guy came over to me and said in a sort of whisper, "We try that Hatzalah should only be used for yidden." So I said, taken aback, 'The ambulance didn't come and I didn't know what to do.' He said, okay you should know for the future....
They took her in an ambulance to the hospital. The Hatzalah guys were great. In and out in like 7 minutes. I left the laundromat about 30 minutes after I called 911 and I still did not hear approaching sirens.
But that comment- it is so primitive. So uncalled for. Who cares if she is a 'yid' or not. She is a person. We as Jews are 'gomlei chassadim'. We help people. I was really bothered that he said that. Why do frum Jews feel the need to be racist?
Maybe I am taking this to an extreme, and I can understand in a sense where the guy was coming from. But if he called the police, would they tell him, sorry bro', we only help Mexicans?
Regardless, I hope she will be okay, and I am definitely learning how to stay calm in stressful situations, something I have a big problem with.
POST SCRIPT: I saw the lady again today, she is okay, and she thanked me profusely for helping her out.
But what of Racism? It is prevalent in New York, and it makes me uncomfortable.
I was at the laundromat, and some guy came over to tell me that a lady wasn't feeling well. I went over to check. She was sitting on a chair with her head down, not moving. I thought maybe she was tired. I asked her if she was okay. She shook her head no. I asked her if she wanted water. She shook her head no. I asked her if she wanted an ambulance. She didn't really respond. Another lady was a nurse and tried asking her what her symptoms were.
I decided someone should do something, so I called 911. It is a weird feeling to have to call. I have only called them once before, thank G-d. They go through a whole process. What is the emergency? Address? Who is the patient? How old is she? They dispatched me to ambulance services. They asked me more questions. Then told me an ambulance was on the way.
20 minutes later it still wasn't there. The lady was laying on two chairs, moaning, complaining of stomach pains. I didn't know what to do, and I was getting nervous. So I decided to call Hatzalah (the Jewish ambulance service.) They came within 5 minutes.
The first guy attended to the lady, he seemed nice. The thing about Hatzala is they come in droves. About 3 more guys showed up, and an ambulance, even before the 911 emergency service came.
Here's where it gets a little uncomfortable. One of the guys was looking around. He saw me. I was obviously the only frum person there. The lady who was in pain is African American. I did the right thing by calling Hatzala. A person is a person no matter what, and I should do what I can to help.
The guy came over to me and said in a sort of whisper, "We try that Hatzalah should only be used for yidden." So I said, taken aback, 'The ambulance didn't come and I didn't know what to do.' He said, okay you should know for the future....
They took her in an ambulance to the hospital. The Hatzalah guys were great. In and out in like 7 minutes. I left the laundromat about 30 minutes after I called 911 and I still did not hear approaching sirens.
But that comment- it is so primitive. So uncalled for. Who cares if she is a 'yid' or not. She is a person. We as Jews are 'gomlei chassadim'. We help people. I was really bothered that he said that. Why do frum Jews feel the need to be racist?
Maybe I am taking this to an extreme, and I can understand in a sense where the guy was coming from. But if he called the police, would they tell him, sorry bro', we only help Mexicans?
Regardless, I hope she will be okay, and I am definitely learning how to stay calm in stressful situations, something I have a big problem with.
POST SCRIPT: I saw the lady again today, she is okay, and she thanked me profusely for helping her out.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
New Beginnings
The warm sun smiled down at me as I left for the last time. I descended the steps with a bracelet clutched in my hand, with the word 'smile' on it. Fitting.
The weather outside was gorgeous, with a pleasant breeze in the air. It lifted my hair and whipped it about. My heart was light, my score was settled, and I was done. Time to move on.
Endings are hard, and so are new beginnings. But when it ends on a good note, it brings with it a good feeling. Onto bigger and better things.
Beginnings are a fresh start. Turn over a new leaf. Start again. No one knows you, and you can be everything you want to be. Leave anything negative behind.
It is the same with a new year. It is a time to leave old grudges behind, apologize to people you have hurt, forgive the ones who hurt you, and make good resolutions for the new year.
I have high hopes for this coming year. I pray for and I wish upon everyone lots of blessings in every area, be it health, livelihood, children, shidduchim. May everyone find only happiness in their lives, peace, good will towards their fellow man, revealed good in everything, and may you always have the strength and the courage to do the right thing.
I wish you and your families a happy and healthy sweet new year!
Thursday, September 13, 2012
My worth
My worth
is not what you think of me.
Not what you give to me,
or what you take from me.
My worth
is not a gold star.
Or a red A+.
My worth
transcends the physical.
You cannot box me in.
Hold me back.
If you deem me unfit for you,
then certainly you are not good enough for me.
You cannot judge me,
for you have never been where I have been.
My worth is only
what I think of myself.
And I believe that
I am a pretty fine individual.
It does not matter what you think.
For I matter to myself.
And I will always be worth it.
is not what you think of me.
Not what you give to me,
or what you take from me.
My worth
is not a gold star.
Or a red A+.
My worth
transcends the physical.
You cannot box me in.
Hold me back.
If you deem me unfit for you,
then certainly you are not good enough for me.
You cannot judge me,
for you have never been where I have been.
My worth is only
what I think of myself.
And I believe that
I am a pretty fine individual.
It does not matter what you think.
For I matter to myself.
And I will always be worth it.
My choice
It is that instant when you make a mental decision. There is much debate in psychology about the subconscious. Psychologist didn't use to believe that there was anything in our minds besides our conscious thoughts. But of course we know that to not be true. It is when you do something purposely to hurt someone and you say, 'I guess subconsciously I was really upset at her...' Or you have a major decision to make, and you say 'I don't really know what I want to do.'
Our minds have layers. Sometimes thoughts are clear and surface level. We are hungry. We are tired. We are sad. We know what we are feeling at any given time. Then there are the times when a thought lurks just below the surface and we don't quite know what it is we are really thinking.
It is that split second when your mind decides it does not want to be here. And then the rest follows. It is very hard to be somewhere when you have already decided that you don't want to be there.
Are you wasting your time? Is there a way to push through that mental barrier? Should you force yourself to stay when all you really want to do is leave? Get up off your chair, walk out that door, gasp the fresh night air, and run far away into the night.
I thought I had come far enough in life that I can make my own decisions and leave if I wanted to. But what of self-control? Sometimes, as grown ups, we need to make the decision that is best for us, even if it does not make us happy.
The desire was to leave, but I am going to stay, and prove to myself that I can do it. And I will make myself proud.
Our minds have layers. Sometimes thoughts are clear and surface level. We are hungry. We are tired. We are sad. We know what we are feeling at any given time. Then there are the times when a thought lurks just below the surface and we don't quite know what it is we are really thinking.
It is that split second when your mind decides it does not want to be here. And then the rest follows. It is very hard to be somewhere when you have already decided that you don't want to be there.
Are you wasting your time? Is there a way to push through that mental barrier? Should you force yourself to stay when all you really want to do is leave? Get up off your chair, walk out that door, gasp the fresh night air, and run far away into the night.
I thought I had come far enough in life that I can make my own decisions and leave if I wanted to. But what of self-control? Sometimes, as grown ups, we need to make the decision that is best for us, even if it does not make us happy.
The desire was to leave, but I am going to stay, and prove to myself that I can do it. And I will make myself proud.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Deal again?
Yes please. Deal the cards again. There must have been some mistake.
No, these cannot be my cards. 'The hand that we were dealt.' No thank you. I don't accept it.
Why is it that just when things seem like they are going great- everything flips over. And I mean everything. All at once.
Okay, maybe not everything. But the essentials. The important things. It makes you stop and say, what now?
I hate it. It is so frustrating. I hate the feeling of not being in control. I hate that I can't do anything about another person's decision. I hate that I make plans, anticipate things, and they don't work out.
I hate saying, 'Well, it'll all work out.' Maybe it won't. Why must I always be positive? Why must I always console myself? What is wrong with wallowing and saying, 'This really and truly sucks'?
It sucks. I will not lie and say I'm happy. I will not pretend everything is 'just great'. I will not tell you that I am fine because that is what you want to hear.
No, it's not 'all good'.
Two steps forward, one step back. How many steps back can one take until they are just walking backwards?
Deal again?
Please. Because there must have been some mistake the first time around.
No, these cannot be my cards. 'The hand that we were dealt.' No thank you. I don't accept it.
Why is it that just when things seem like they are going great- everything flips over. And I mean everything. All at once.
Okay, maybe not everything. But the essentials. The important things. It makes you stop and say, what now?
I hate it. It is so frustrating. I hate the feeling of not being in control. I hate that I can't do anything about another person's decision. I hate that I make plans, anticipate things, and they don't work out.
I hate saying, 'Well, it'll all work out.' Maybe it won't. Why must I always be positive? Why must I always console myself? What is wrong with wallowing and saying, 'This really and truly sucks'?
It sucks. I will not lie and say I'm happy. I will not pretend everything is 'just great'. I will not tell you that I am fine because that is what you want to hear.
No, it's not 'all good'.
Two steps forward, one step back. How many steps back can one take until they are just walking backwards?
Deal again?
Please. Because there must have been some mistake the first time around.
The end
Holding my breath.
Will I make it?
Just can't get to the other side.
The divide
is much too great.
And I alone can't.
Make it?
Or break it.
What will be.
Can't you see
how desperately
I wanted this?
Is it right?
Or wrong.
Who is to say?
Today,
it is cold.
Don't know where the sun went.
It was sent
away.
Don't witness the pain.
The rain
brings chill.
The fire can't warm.
Ride the storm.
The waves engulf.
No end in sight.
Take flight
and run.
For if you stay-
Today
will be gone.
And who knows what tomorrow brings.
Don't sing.
Your voice has broke.
And you are done.
You haven't won.
You lost more
than you ever had.
Are you sad?
But you are powerless.
So be gone.
And move on.
For if it is not meant to be
You can't control it.
Do as you see fit.
And let me be.
Can't you see
What you are doing to me?
My mind is numb.
No pain.
No gain.
No words.
No anything at all.
Can't stop the fall.
So I sit back.
And sneer.
You stare.
But I got it right.
All along.
Stay strong.
Keep away.
And you will never feel the pain.
Again.
The end.
Will I make it?
Just can't get to the other side.
The divide
is much too great.
And I alone can't.
Make it?
Or break it.
What will be.
Can't you see
how desperately
I wanted this?
Is it right?
Or wrong.
Who is to say?
Today,
it is cold.
Don't know where the sun went.
It was sent
away.
Don't witness the pain.
The rain
brings chill.
The fire can't warm.
Ride the storm.
The waves engulf.
No end in sight.
Take flight
and run.
For if you stay-
Today
will be gone.
And who knows what tomorrow brings.
Don't sing.
Your voice has broke.
And you are done.
You haven't won.
You lost more
than you ever had.
Are you sad?
But you are powerless.
So be gone.
And move on.
For if it is not meant to be
You can't control it.
Do as you see fit.
And let me be.
Can't you see
What you are doing to me?
My mind is numb.
No pain.
No gain.
No words.
No anything at all.
Can't stop the fall.
So I sit back.
And sneer.
You stare.
But I got it right.
All along.
Stay strong.
Keep away.
And you will never feel the pain.
Again.
The end.
Monday, September 10, 2012
...Aaaand We're Back!
Little girls walking, hand in hand with their parents, fresh new school uniforms, and backpacks that are way bigger than them. The buses and subways are packed with people returning to work after summer vacation. But I never got a vacation. How can you return when you were never away.
Today I felt the first chill in the air. Time to start thinking about pulling out the heavy blankets, the fall jackets. Keep tissues in your purse and have soup on hand, for when that cold springs up on you, unannounced.
I gaze in wonderment at my calendar and cannot fathom how it is Rosh Hashana in less then a week. People love to say 'It's that time of year again.' And it is. But not again. It is not that time of year again. It is new. It is fresh. This year was never before and will never be again. It is a fresh start, a clean slate, every other cliche of renewal.
I bought a book, hoping for inspiration. '60 DAYS: A Spiritual Guide to the High Holidays' by Simon Jacobson. I walked into the Judaic store, no idea where to find it. After awhile I caved and asked the clerk for help. Of course, he knew what I was talking about right away, and the book was right behind me.
He told me it is a seasonal item, and therefore it only has a one week return period. Thought I, do I want to return this item? I got home and started reading it. And then took a break. It is relevant, it is a short daily dose of inspiration, it doesn't take that long. But 'I have no time'. I want to soak up the inspiration just by holding the book in my hands. I want a quick fix, just like the rest of my generation. I want to sit down and say 'Inspire me!', and in a flash, I feel better.
I would like to go into the new year feeling prepared, and yet I never do. I always feel like I am rushing, like I am busy with everything else, like I am coming in to the holiday still putting on one shoe saying 'wait for me!'. Yes, that is usually how it is done.
I pray by rote, I say tehillim, all the while thinking, 'I should be feeling more. I should be crying. I should be praying harder. What is wrong with me, does this mean nothing to me at all?' I console myself by saying that at least I have a conscience that keeps me aware of what I am lacking. Reassuring thought. Not.
Well, this is what is wrong with me- I make time for so many other trivialities, and not the things that really matter. I have passing thoughts such as, 'I really should make a donation to tzedaka this year'. Or, 'maybe I should take some time to reflect on the past year and mentally prepare for Rosh Hashana.' And then I move on to other things.
And every year I show up to shul gasping for breath, running to do my hair and makeup in the 18 minutes, lighting candles late, thinking, thinking, thinking, trying to remember what I am forgetting and knowing that of course I must be forgetting something.
What is Rosh Hashana? I remember learning about it from the age of 6. Making cute honey dishes, bringing home arts n crafts, reciting dvar Torah's from a paper, putting the little inserts in my machzar so I would know what to say. And now, years later, I wonder, where is that bite-sized learning I am so used to? How come no one is teaching me about the holidays again? I have no arts n crafts, no dvar torah, no neat little package with a bow on it, with whatever the teacher decided to teach us.
Let's try this from the beginning. What is Rosh Hashana? Just as there are many resources and articles for people who know nothing, there are refresher courses for people who forget. But we never really forget.
It is the head of the year. It is the day Adam and Chava were created. It is a renewal of our relationship with Hashem. We crown Hashem as King. "The Kabbalists teach that the continued existence of the universe is dependent upon the renewal of the divine desire for a world when we accept G‑d’s kingship each year on Rosh Hashanah." We hear the shofar. It tells us to repent for everything we may have done in the past year. We eat an apple dipped in honey and other sweet foods so we should have a sweet year.
What I keep coming back to is a time of renewal. Here's the thing: Rosh Hashana happens every year. We apologize, we repent for sinning against Hashem, we ask for a good year, we tell Hashem that we are again accepting Him as king. It is like when a couple is having trouble in their marriage, so they go to couples therapy. They renew their vows. They remember the first time that they met, and that makes them forget the pain and fighting, and remember the love they shared. They are renewing their relationship.
It happens every year, but do you treat it with annoyance? Do you sigh and say, 'Oh that time of year again'? Do you fret and worry and say 'wow there is no way I can daven, because I have just done so many negative things this year'?
But we forget that, Hashem already loves us. He already chose us. He wants to hear from us that we love Him too, that we accept him, that we are sorry for hurting the relationship in any way.
Go into Rosh Hashana in a calm manner. Rejoice on the holiday, for it is a fresh start. It is a new year, a new you!
And make sure that you enter the holiday with both shoes on, and ready to say, Gut yom tov.
Today I felt the first chill in the air. Time to start thinking about pulling out the heavy blankets, the fall jackets. Keep tissues in your purse and have soup on hand, for when that cold springs up on you, unannounced.
I gaze in wonderment at my calendar and cannot fathom how it is Rosh Hashana in less then a week. People love to say 'It's that time of year again.' And it is. But not again. It is not that time of year again. It is new. It is fresh. This year was never before and will never be again. It is a fresh start, a clean slate, every other cliche of renewal.
I bought a book, hoping for inspiration. '60 DAYS: A Spiritual Guide to the High Holidays' by Simon Jacobson. I walked into the Judaic store, no idea where to find it. After awhile I caved and asked the clerk for help. Of course, he knew what I was talking about right away, and the book was right behind me.
He told me it is a seasonal item, and therefore it only has a one week return period. Thought I, do I want to return this item? I got home and started reading it. And then took a break. It is relevant, it is a short daily dose of inspiration, it doesn't take that long. But 'I have no time'. I want to soak up the inspiration just by holding the book in my hands. I want a quick fix, just like the rest of my generation. I want to sit down and say 'Inspire me!', and in a flash, I feel better.
I would like to go into the new year feeling prepared, and yet I never do. I always feel like I am rushing, like I am busy with everything else, like I am coming in to the holiday still putting on one shoe saying 'wait for me!'. Yes, that is usually how it is done.
I pray by rote, I say tehillim, all the while thinking, 'I should be feeling more. I should be crying. I should be praying harder. What is wrong with me, does this mean nothing to me at all?' I console myself by saying that at least I have a conscience that keeps me aware of what I am lacking. Reassuring thought. Not.
Well, this is what is wrong with me- I make time for so many other trivialities, and not the things that really matter. I have passing thoughts such as, 'I really should make a donation to tzedaka this year'. Or, 'maybe I should take some time to reflect on the past year and mentally prepare for Rosh Hashana.' And then I move on to other things.
And every year I show up to shul gasping for breath, running to do my hair and makeup in the 18 minutes, lighting candles late, thinking, thinking, thinking, trying to remember what I am forgetting and knowing that of course I must be forgetting something.
What is Rosh Hashana? I remember learning about it from the age of 6. Making cute honey dishes, bringing home arts n crafts, reciting dvar Torah's from a paper, putting the little inserts in my machzar so I would know what to say. And now, years later, I wonder, where is that bite-sized learning I am so used to? How come no one is teaching me about the holidays again? I have no arts n crafts, no dvar torah, no neat little package with a bow on it, with whatever the teacher decided to teach us.
Let's try this from the beginning. What is Rosh Hashana? Just as there are many resources and articles for people who know nothing, there are refresher courses for people who forget. But we never really forget.
It is the head of the year. It is the day Adam and Chava were created. It is a renewal of our relationship with Hashem. We crown Hashem as King. "The Kabbalists teach that the continued existence of the universe is dependent upon the renewal of the divine desire for a world when we accept G‑d’s kingship each year on Rosh Hashanah." We hear the shofar. It tells us to repent for everything we may have done in the past year. We eat an apple dipped in honey and other sweet foods so we should have a sweet year.
What I keep coming back to is a time of renewal. Here's the thing: Rosh Hashana happens every year. We apologize, we repent for sinning against Hashem, we ask for a good year, we tell Hashem that we are again accepting Him as king. It is like when a couple is having trouble in their marriage, so they go to couples therapy. They renew their vows. They remember the first time that they met, and that makes them forget the pain and fighting, and remember the love they shared. They are renewing their relationship.
It happens every year, but do you treat it with annoyance? Do you sigh and say, 'Oh that time of year again'? Do you fret and worry and say 'wow there is no way I can daven, because I have just done so many negative things this year'?
But we forget that, Hashem already loves us. He already chose us. He wants to hear from us that we love Him too, that we accept him, that we are sorry for hurting the relationship in any way.
Go into Rosh Hashana in a calm manner. Rejoice on the holiday, for it is a fresh start. It is a new year, a new you!
And make sure that you enter the holiday with both shoes on, and ready to say, Gut yom tov.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Cracked exterior
Throw me away,
because I'm cracked.
Discard me,
for I am damaged.
You see an ugly scar
running through me.
You ask not questions.
You think not reasons.
Look at the
broken glass
and see in it
yourself.
Look where
you deemed unfit
to be seen.
Understand that which you have dismissed.
Pick up
the shattered pieces
and fit them together
like a puzzle.
Where have I been?
Where have you been?
Where have we all been,
one time, long ago?
Is this a treasure,
or discarded trash
to be thrown away
yesterday.
One man's trash
is another man's treasure.
You forget that you too
were once pure.
Sullied,
in this dirty world.
We are darkened
with soot and ash.
Soap and water
cannot clean you.
Nothing
can scrub your soul.
Why doth thou slumber,
and how caneth you awake
in the morn?
Doth thou not fear retribution?
Ah, but the sun does rise
in the East, every morn,
and set in the West every eve.
And our soul is renewed once again.
Would you throw away
a precious diamond,
for a hairline crack?
Great value it holds still.
Scars are a way of saying,
I have lived,
I have been,
I have seen a great lot of things.
Once expensive and new,
now- broken and, cheap?
But the value
never changes.
The crack may never mend,
but the inside
remains the same,
beautiful and sublime.
because I'm cracked.
Discard me,
for I am damaged.
You see an ugly scar
running through me.
You ask not questions.
You think not reasons.
Look at the
broken glass
and see in it
yourself.
Look where
you deemed unfit
to be seen.
Understand that which you have dismissed.
Pick up
the shattered pieces
and fit them together
like a puzzle.
Where have I been?
Where have you been?
Where have we all been,
one time, long ago?
Is this a treasure,
or discarded trash
to be thrown away
yesterday.
One man's trash
is another man's treasure.
You forget that you too
were once pure.
Sullied,
in this dirty world.
We are darkened
with soot and ash.
Soap and water
cannot clean you.
Nothing
can scrub your soul.
Why doth thou slumber,
and how caneth you awake
in the morn?
Doth thou not fear retribution?
Ah, but the sun does rise
in the East, every morn,
and set in the West every eve.
And our soul is renewed once again.
Would you throw away
a precious diamond,
for a hairline crack?
Great value it holds still.
Scars are a way of saying,
I have lived,
I have been,
I have seen a great lot of things.
Once expensive and new,
now- broken and, cheap?
But the value
never changes.
The crack may never mend,
but the inside
remains the same,
beautiful and sublime.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Y.O.L.O.
When I first encountered 'LOL', I was chatting online with a friend. Feeling like an idiot, I asked, what does 'lol' mean? 'Laugh out loud'. At the time, I thought it was such a stupid abbreviation, and I vowed to never use it. I observed that most people abuse it, over use it, and don't actually mean that they are 'laughing out loud' when they say it. Unfortunately, I too have fallen prey to this short-hand generation.
There are so many abbreviations that have found their way into our every day use of the internet.
TTYL- Talk to you later.
BRB- Be right back.
TGIF- Thank G-d it's Friday.
IMHO- In my humble opinion
GTG- Got to go
ATM- At the moment
BC- Because
FYI- For your information
GR8- Great
OMG- Oh my Gosh
THX- Thanks
ROFL- Rolling on floor laughing (I'd like to see that.)
I'm sure there are many to be added to this list that I have not even heard of, or have no use for in a conversation. Whatever the case, this trend seems to start with the youth, as they have little patience to actually say what they are trying to say. Therefore, carry an urban dictionary when talking to teenagers. Unfortunately, this trend has become widespread in the adult world as well, and you have well-dressed respectable elders saying 'toats' (totally) and 'cray-cray' (crazy). A little self-respect, please.
This newest acronym, which by now is actually quite old, (February- like, so last season.) is YOLO- which stands for, 'You only live once.' It is similar to the old adage, 'Carpe Diem', seize the day. But in what context is it used, and should it be seen as a positive or a negative word?
"Its appeal to the youthful is self-evident. YOLO as a shorthand mantra defines youth, on a certain level. What is teenagehood if not the adventurous, often foolhardy, desire to test the limits of acceptable behavior—because hey, why not? YOLO!"
There seems to be a sense that it is used in a reckless way. The urban dictionary defines it as 'the idiot's excuse for something stupid that they did.'
"Let's jump off the roof- YOLO!".
"Ditch class and go to the beach- YOLO!"
“You want to park illegally in this spot? YOLO!”
“Should I buy these shoes or pay rent? YOLO!”
It can also be used as a verb!
“All the times I come home after a night of YOLO-ing, I crave a delish slice to soak up the booze and sober me up.”
Of course, as we are taught in Chassidus, anything negative can be seen in a positive light too.
Carpe Diem. YOLO. What if this is our only shot? So many of us go through life scared of taking chances. I don't like new beginnings. I find them bothersome, and a bit frightening. Everyone has situations that they would rather not get into. Some people have a huge fear of social interactions, and avoid public places. Some people might fear failure so much, that they don't even bother trying. What if you were so scared of failure that you didn't show up for an interview for an exceptional job that could shape your career? Or worse, a first date with a guy that may very well be your soul-mate?
I'm not saying that we should live life with the 'YOLO' motto as our guide. It should not be used as an excuse to get away with utterly foolish behavior. It should not be used as something to fall back on.
But if used in the right way, it is a refreshing realization that we must live in the moment, seize opportunities, for they may pass us by and never come back again.
"One wry elaboration [of YOLO], credited to the comedian Joe E. Lewis in 1952, is “You only live once, but if you work it right, once is enough.”
Y.O.L.O. You only live once. Get it right the first time.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Like, what was she thinking??
There is a myth about not wearing white after Labor Day. It is considered a crime against fashion. There are many opinions about where the custom actually originates. Some people say that white was worn during summer because it is generally a lighter material, and come Fall, it is inadequate for the approaching cold winter months.
Another reason given is that in days gone by, only the rich people wore white during the summer, since they could afford a whole new wardrobe. The poor people continued to wear the same clothes they had all year. And once the rich people returned from their summer homes, they switched their wardrobe back, thus concluding the end of summer.
Whatever the reason, I think it is foolish and snobby. It is merely a chance to look down upon someone of lesser status than you. I never really followed fashion trends. That is not to say that I wear robes as they did long ago. I wear clothing of the times, but I do not follow what society dictates as being 'in'. I decide on my own style, and what looks good on me.
Never be a follower. Think for yourself, do what you please, and don't let society decide how you should lead your life, what you should wear, how you should behave.
Wear white after Labor Day if that's what makes you happy. Yom Kippur is coming up and we should all wear white.
What is the new black? I have no idea.
Another reason given is that in days gone by, only the rich people wore white during the summer, since they could afford a whole new wardrobe. The poor people continued to wear the same clothes they had all year. And once the rich people returned from their summer homes, they switched their wardrobe back, thus concluding the end of summer.
Whatever the reason, I think it is foolish and snobby. It is merely a chance to look down upon someone of lesser status than you. I never really followed fashion trends. That is not to say that I wear robes as they did long ago. I wear clothing of the times, but I do not follow what society dictates as being 'in'. I decide on my own style, and what looks good on me.
Never be a follower. Think for yourself, do what you please, and don't let society decide how you should lead your life, what you should wear, how you should behave.
Wear white after Labor Day if that's what makes you happy. Yom Kippur is coming up and we should all wear white.
What is the new black? I have no idea.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Labor Day in Crown Heights
My family loves telling people the story of how we moved to Crown Heights on Labor Day. We came from a quiet little suburb that not many people have heard of. We had no idea what we got ourselves into. Labor Day in Crown Heights is- chaotic. To put it mildly. There is a West Indie Parade, made up mostly of people wearing very little clothing, who just want to eat, drink, party, and dance to really loud thumping music. The streets are packed, traffic is horrible, and cars have a very hard time getting through.
Here is the post I wrote last year at this time. It was not the greatest time for me. I had no job, no real idea what I was doing, I had just moved into a new apartment, my family moved away, and everything was changing. Now, it has been a year since I moved into my new apartment.
I always marvel at the passage of time. This year had many ups and downs, seemingly more downs than ups. But now, B"H everything is going well, and I can look back and realize that everything I went through was meant to bring me to this point in time. And from this point- on to the rest of my life.
This is not a holiday for me. In fact, I am working today. (Despite the fact that no one else, including my boss, showed up for work today.) But it is always a good time to stop and thank Hashem for everything. For things that are going well, and for things that don't seem so great.
I hope and pray for all of us, that we can all see only revealed good in our lives, that we will be able to recognize the Hand of G-d in everything, and may this year bring lots of blessings for everyone, materially and spiritually, things that you need, things that you want, and things you don't even know that you are lacking.
Raise your glass and say- Lechaim.
Here is the post I wrote last year at this time. It was not the greatest time for me. I had no job, no real idea what I was doing, I had just moved into a new apartment, my family moved away, and everything was changing. Now, it has been a year since I moved into my new apartment.
I always marvel at the passage of time. This year had many ups and downs, seemingly more downs than ups. But now, B"H everything is going well, and I can look back and realize that everything I went through was meant to bring me to this point in time. And from this point- on to the rest of my life.
This is not a holiday for me. In fact, I am working today. (Despite the fact that no one else, including my boss, showed up for work today.) But it is always a good time to stop and thank Hashem for everything. For things that are going well, and for things that don't seem so great.
I hope and pray for all of us, that we can all see only revealed good in our lives, that we will be able to recognize the Hand of G-d in everything, and may this year bring lots of blessings for everyone, materially and spiritually, things that you need, things that you want, and things you don't even know that you are lacking.
Raise your glass and say- Lechaim.
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