Scars on my body, scars on my soul

This article has been published in The Jewish Press

The scars on my body you can see.

The one on my arm where I burned myself. And on my chin, from the hot tomato sauce that splashed.

The one over my eye where the door banged into it.

The one on my elbow from when I fell off my bike.

The one on my leg I got from cutting myself while shaving.

The one that I believe I got as a child from an operation.

The scars on my body you can see.
They don't make me who I am,
but they are a part of me.

The scars on my soul are hidden. I can hide them with a smile, or a laugh.

I can cover them up with a life well lived.

I can conceal them from my friends and family, sometimes even from myself.

The scars on my soul are so well hidden, sometimes even I don't know that they are there. I would have to look at my soul under a microscope to determine where I got each scar from, and how deep they are.

The scars on my body you can see.

When I am in pain, you know it. You see it clearly on my face. You can offer a comforting word, a hug, or just ignore it, as you yourself would wish others to do.

But what of the scars on my soul?

When my soul is in pain, you do not see it. When I am crying inside, you do not know.

Do I wish that each and every thing I go through every day, and throughout life, were stamped on my face? Do I wish that you knew how I was feeling without me telling you so?

But some things are not meant to be shared.

The scars on my body you can see.

But the scars on my soul may run so deep, and from looking at me, you would never know that they were there.

The month of Cheshvan

I wanted to know why the month of Cheshvan is called "MarCheshvan". Why is it referred to as bitter? I googled it and came up with this:


It is known that the month of Cheshvan is known as “Mar” Cheshvan, bitter Cheshvan, because of its lack of holidays. Why is it that this month is so empty of holidays?

Rav Kook, in Meged Yerachim, writes for the Month of Cheshvan: “When the soul is illuminating, even a cloudy sky can give bright light” (rough translation).

The message is clear. After the intense month of Tishrei where almost every day has special significance and where we continuously grow, now we are put to test. What are we going to do in a regular, day to day, life? How will we react in a month devoid of holidays?

We can look at that month as a cloudy and dark month. Or, we can recognize the fact that its cloudy but also that it hides some deep light behind the clouds. And when our soul is illuminated after such an intense month of growth, we can attain this light even through the clouds.

The light of the Month of Cheshvan is very deep. Most of the time, the deeper the thing, the harder it is to get to it, the less obvious it is. May all our preparations of the month of Tishrei give us enough strength to find the light inside the month of Cheshvan. Chodesh Tov!

Written by: Dan Illouz


I am of course saying the prayer "mashiv haruach umorid hageshem" in shmonei esrei, even if I don't really enjoy the rain so much. I think it is meant to benifit Israel more then us, but even so it has been a rainy past few weeks.

Today I went shopping for a winter coat. As I drove home I noticed how the leaves had changed colors. I don't usually pay attention to that. They are a very pretty shade of red now, as opposed to the generally green color. But it is a dreary feeling.

The cold weather, coupled with the fact that I am tired and coming down with a cold, makes me want to curl up in bed with a sweatshirt and socks on and a hot cup of tea.

Tomorrow morning, each girl will get a cup of powerade on her desk with a label that says: "Good morning! Today is Yud Zayin Cheshvan. The day the mabul started!"

Happy rainy season.

Interview with G-d

That little fish

I say goodnight to him every time I pass him in the hallway. He may be a she for all I know. I never call it by its name. I don’t even know if it has a name. So I keep it gender friendly and say “goodnight little fishy”. I don’t know if it is a boy fish or a girl fish. I suppose I could make up a name for him, maybe call him Fred, or perhaps Thelma. But for some reason Fishy seems to suit him just fine.

He watches me with his eyes wide open. Sometimes he turns away like he doesn’t want to look at me. Maybe he is moody. Or maybe he is lonely. In any case, I bet I know what goes through his mind every time he sees me walking by. “So why is she at school this late?” Well, I could explain to Mr. Fishy that it has something to do with the fact that the dorm doesn’t have internet, plus I have things to do, but I don’t think he would quite understand, or care for that matter.

They told me that there used to be more fish in the tank. But I guess they died somewhere along the way. Now it is just Mr. Fishy. When the lights are all off and the school is quiet, it is just Mr. Fishy and me. And then I leave, and he is all alone. But I tell him I’ll see him tomorrow. I wonder how long Mr. Fishy will be around for.

When I was little I had a pet goldfish. We gave him away to a family friend who had lots of other fish. I suppose that fish died sometime in the prime of his life. And that is why I don't want to have a pet fish.

I hope all of you find a Mr. Fishy to go through life with.

Three doors down

No more of my 2 am posts, as much fun as those were. I am a night owl at heart. My natural instinct is to stay up until the late hours of the night, and then sleep. in. But no more, because I have a job now.

I used to wish that I could be anywhere else in the world than where I was. Florida maybe. Or California. Or Hawaii, or for a change of pace maybe even Switzerland. All very appealing destinations, the main reason being that they were not here. That was in the days when I couldn't stand being in class, couldn't wait to get out of school, wanted tomorrow and next week and next year to come faster.

There is a point in your life when you have to stop wishing for your life to go by faster, and just learn to take each day and each moment as it comes.

I no longer wish to be anywhere else but here. Right now, I want to be here, because here is where I am meant to be.

10/10/10

Today is 10-10-10. The 10th day in the 10th month of the year 2010. It is a cool sequence when you stop and realize it, and it only comes once every year. The first time someone pointed it out to me was in the year 2003, when the sequence waas 03/03/03. That was seven years ago.

Someone told me that every time the clock is at 10:10, or 11:11, or 12:12, (I don't know if it works for 1:01, or 2:02, etc.) you can make a wish. Of course, this sounds like one of those made up teenage shtus, and I doubt it even has a proper source. Then again, you can make a wish anytime you want, that doesn't mean it will come true.

But if it were true, then I'm pretty sure a day like today would have more power.

I recently passed a milestone. It has been a year and three days since I got my license. I am a good driver, if I do say so myself. Oh how much has happened this past year...

Sometime in November it will be 2 years since I started my blog. And I am almost up to 400 posts. Not too shabby.

Today we are going hiking. I will enjoy myself. It is nice weather out.

If any of you believe that you can truly make a wish today, then go ahead. And have me in mind.

I know what I would wish for.

Glorious cupcakes

Winter, and other stuff

The air is fresh and I breath in big lungfuls of it. This is heaven to me. It rained last night, and it is still raining lightly today. I stand outside on the wet grass in my boots and sweatshirt and smile. I stand under the trees, mostly shielded from the rain with little droplets falling on my face. I can sit here forever. This is bliss.

I am not looking forward to the winter. Winter is a depressing time for me, when the sun sets early in the day, when the trees lose its leaves and turn brown and bare, when everyone stays inside huddled by the fireplace, instead of going out and having a good time. It is a time of hibernation, a time of sleep.

The only thing I like about winter is the snow. Snow is a beautiful thing. It is pure and fresh, it makes everything look clean and new, and it is so silent. Whenever it snows it feels like the world is hushed, holding its breath.

I look forward to the spring again. Spring, a time of renewal, of revival.

I always wonder what it would be like if I lived in a place with a warm climate all year round. If the winter had no meaning to me, if my life wasn't ruled by the weather outside, if I didn't have to wear a winter coat and boots when I went outside, or a sweatshirt and socks to bed. Would my life be so boring if I had nothing to complain about? Would humans have anything to talk about?

(Guy behind counter at starbucks): "Sure is cold outside today."
(Customer): grunts "Sure is. Took me forever to git ma car out of de snow. Ya know. Sure wid be nice not to have te git up early every day to shovel ma car out and warm it up. Ain't no fun driving to work freezin ma buns off."

What would they have to talk about if it was sunny and warm all the time?

In other news: I got promoted to chef. Now I will be cooking dinner every night for the dorm girls and I. It is fun, I enjoy cooking, and if gives me something to fill my day.

In addition, I will be the davening monitor once a week for the 7th and 8th grade girls.

Life is good here in Orange Connecticut.

Stripped bare

Simchas Torah is a guys holiday. So don't ask me how my Simchas Torah was.

I brave the streets, weaving in and out of groups of guys singing enthusiastically, trying not to bump into them or worse, be bumped into 'by accident'. Every once in awhile, all heads turn at the sound of some extremely drunk guy breaking into song, or jumping on his friend's back for the fun of it. The word 'lechaim' is on their lips, and the smell to go along with it.

I walk on Eastern Parkway and gingerly step over piles of throw up. I sit on a bench and watch Hatzalah go by with their sirens on, and then return speeding in the opposite direction and I wonder, who's father/son/husband/brother/friend is passed out this time?

I attempt to go into 770 to watch the dancing, but I don't get very far. The place is packed with Israelis, and lots of other girls. I stand on my tip toes, but even then I can hardly see above the heads of the girls standing on benches. I see a swarm of black hats, and hear the singing, which is very loud. It's hard to explain how I feel. This is familiar to me, the scene, the color scheme, (black and white being the predominant colors). I feel at home here, and yet I hate being a spectator. It is just for holidays like these that I wish I was a little girl again, on the shoulders of my father or brothers; or better, that I was born a guy. They always seem to have more fun.

My claustrophobia kicks in and I have to leave. Reluctantly, because I do wish I could be a part of this experience. I stand on the plaza until even that is too much for me. I cross the street and sit on a bench with my friend, watching scores of guys standing around outside 770.

It strikes me as ironic that the loudest guys, the guys who are standing on the street corner linking arms and singing ani maamen, the guys who stand out the most, are the ones who are not dressed so conservatively, the ones who shallow people (I admit to sometimes being in that category) would be quick to label as 'not so frum'. I wonder if they are trying to get attention, or if they are truly expressing their inner feelings and beliefs, namely, that they do believe in G-d and all that is holy.

It is times like these that I abhor the labels we tend to stick on everyone. Imagine if we could see everyone like a negative- a photo before it is developed. We would all look eerie and weird and creepy, like when you tilt a picture and it looks like an x-ray. But that is when everyone looks the same. We are all equal on the inside, are we not? Maybe not, but that is not for you or me to judge.

If we were all stripped bare, then how would we be able to judge each other? Outer appearance constitutes so much of how we label each other. Sometimes it is so tedious and takes up way more time then just saying, "Hi I'm Altie nice to meet you, what's your name?". I have to remind myself constantly to not jump to conclusions about people.

Back to the topic of guys- I am happy that they get a yom tov where they get to let out all their energy in a positive way, where they get to strip their inhibitions, take off the masks and just show their true selves and feelings. If music is the pen of the soul, then singing is the souls way of communicating. It is a beautiful concept to sing and express what you can't say in words. (If any guy wants to step in and veto me here feel free to. I can't say that I've ever been a guy.)

Maybe I will be different next year. No, I don't mean that I will turn into a guy. But maybe I will be able to internalize the yom tov so that it won't be 'just a guys yom tov' in my head. Or maybe I won't change my way of thinking, but I'll have someone on the men's side to keep my eye on and smile proudly and say "he's mine".