I Am The Theme

burnt out

2006-12-30T18:29:00.000-08:00

"You have a burnt out look in your eyes" he said. He said the words with laughter in his eyes and a light tone. He said it as a joke yet it was exactly how I felt: burnt out. The accuracy of the statement froze me for a moment. With no response and a cold chill spreading over my body I have nothing to do but stare. I mumbled something and asked him to repeat the question. My interviewer looked to the side as if trying to avoid the emptiness he saw on my face. It looked like he was hoping to find some answers on the peeling white paint of the office walls. For me, any answers would do- even if they did not dissolve my questions. Just an answer or two would be nice. He spoke clearly, as if he already had all the answers, "Where are you holding?"

I was still unclear on what this meant. Still unsure what aspect of me he was trying to focus in on. But I spoke anyway. It was my turn. In this game of applications and patent leather shoes you must move your piece across the game board every time the cycle lands on you. There are no skips, no last minute thoughts, no room for doubts. Appear confident, appear strong. You are allowed to be unsure on the inside, but G-d help you if you show it.

Again his words echoed in my head: "Burnt out."How did that happen? How did I fall into the trap of appearances? This world designed with thick black lines that push you into a corner and surround you. Like a corset, they contract you until you are as small as you can become. Breathing is unnecessary, you need only to fit into the beautiful gown they have sewn for you. You never doubt the beauty of the gown. You agreed to wear this painful corset because they said it was the only way you would ever fit. But somewhere along the way you do start to wonder why they couldn't have just made it a bigger size.

"Burnt out." Out of air as I try to lace up the corset. Without realizing, I have let them slip the heavy fabric over my chest. They have only begun to tighten the ribbons laced through the back and already I cannot breath.

"Burnt out." Out of hope as I realized somewhere deep inside of me that I will never fit into that dress. I think I have known from the start. But the silk and the lace of the gown caught my eye. The though that without the corset I would never have it made my heart shake with fear.

For eight days I lit the candles on my menorah. Each night I added another flame. Each flame given with love and thanks to my Creator. The flames have finally come together inside of me to re-light my life. Not burnt out anymore.

Where am I holding? Right now I am at the beginning, at the start of creating my own gown. Because, after everything, I have learned that I can sew my own. I am starting to take my measurements, sketch out the design, and to gather materials.

I do not attempt to create this gown on my own. There are some measurements I have not learned how to take and some materials I do not know where to find. So I will find others who can teach me. It will take a long time, the rest of my life, but it will be beautiful in the end.

Meanwhile, I will wear it proudly as the simple gown it is. Formed as close to HaShem as I can presently comprehend. Plain, but beautifully cut, it is who I am.

Down the back there are two ribbons laced through the fabric. The only part of the corset I have kept, the only beautiful thing to be found on that suffocating mechanism.

I have begun to embellish my dress with all the beautiful things I have ever know. Everyone I have ever loved has left their mark, but there is still room for so many more.

A gown is not beautiful if you cannot breath. A life is nothing if you do not live it. And the most simple dress can represent so much more than the glittering folds of fakeness.

PEACE

2006-11-22T19:26:00.000-08:00

Every day there is something else. Every moment it seems that our world falls lower. A fight, a war, a threat. Always something. Between enemies, between friends, and between brothers. The thin lines that separate my world from theirs are now barely visible. I try to uncover them, to find them amongst the garbage and hate that have consumed them, but they are buried deep under the piles.

Why, in a time when the world is quick to turn against us, do we turn against each other? Why is it easier? Why has peace become a joke? Why is it unexpected?
When you are faced with a thousand decisions that seem to hold the power to change your life it is easy to be overwhelmed. When you feel like you are running from place to place without a moment to breath it is not difficult to fall apart. Your mind argues with your heart and your mouth defies them both. You speak before you think simply because the war that is raging in your head scares the hell out of you. You wish for the days when you had peace. Why has it become part of our character to rush? Why is everything a race for us, when did quantity become superior?
Why is my land a mess of hate and tension? Why does my heart pull me there with such intensity that sometimes I feel like I cannot breathe? Who chose this for me? Who signed these papers of everlasting war? And why, despite my need to walk through the streets of my home, am I still here? Why am I not home, trying to bring my people some peace? Why have we accepted these wars along with Israel? When did we lose hope for peace?
Our society has become obsessed immorality. Women are treated like crap and for some reason encourage it. Frum men cheat on their wives and molest their children. Girls give themselves freely, their minds and their bodies, without first wondering if the recipient is deserving. And we all breath a sigh of relief when Justin announces that he has brought sexy back, because apparently it was missing.
I can't take it anymore. I cannot let my heart break anymore. I need peace for myself, in myself. So I will use my voice. I will use my mind. I will use my belief and the strengths that HaShem has given me. I will find my own peace, because I will not live like this anymore.

Akeidas Hamlet

2006-11-01T05:46:00.000-08:00

I have not posted in a while for no other reason than a lack of anything productive to say. I have been thinking, a lot, and I guess I was just between thoughts. I don’t know. I have been a little confused lately. Not anything so big or awful, just little confusions that seem to disrupt your entire day. Now, although I cannot say that I have totally solved these problems, I have begun to fix them and that is half the battle.

Why is it that you can have one thought running loudly and clearly in your head and then have your mouth and actions show something entirely different? Why is it so simple to hide who you are and so easy to fake your identity? Why do they want to make me feel bad about being myself? Why is it that they search for that confidence and try to consume it? Why have I been battling with appearance versus reality? As long as both of those parts of me are true why should I be lost in the deception of others?

We are reading Hamlet in my English class. The obvious debate of his craziness came up and I wasn’t sure in class what I thought but now I think I figured it out. I don’t think that Hamlet was really crazy. I think he was real, he was so real and so confident in his realness, even at the times that it was ugly and wrong. But the people around him: his uncle, his mother, even Ophelia who pretended to be unsure of her feelings when she knew them all along, they were so filled with deception. These lies began circling him, they entered into him with a power he did not understand, and they began to slowly eat him up inside. He lived with their falseness and it messed with his mind to the point that he started acting so odd that everyone assumed he was crazy.

Rashi says that HaShem did not command the Akeidah immediately because he did not want to make Avraham go crazy. But why would he go crazy? The medrash answers my question: Yesterday HaShem told Avraham that through Yitzchak there will be future generations and now today He says that Avraham should bring him up as a korban. This seeming deception, this contradiction in speech, could very well have driven Avraham to insanity. This sudden shaking of everything that he knows to be true could very simply have ruined him. So HaShem tells him slowly so as not to shock him.

I have been living with a list of deceptions. Some are lies that others put on me and some I put on myself. And slowly, during these past few weeks, I have been trying to break it to myself. Slowly, so as not to disrupt my life. Slowly, so as not to confuse my mind. Slowly, so as not to break my heart.

When you plant a garden you do not begin with a tree and work your way up to a forest. You must start with a seed, just one small seed, and after many years of work and patience you will finally have your tree. But your work is not done. You must then begin again on your slow and steady path to a forest.

A lifetime is not decided in one moment. A marriage is not planned out by one choice. A dream cannot be crushed by one negativity alone. It takes a lifetime of moments to become who you are, after years of marriage you still won’t always get it right, and a dream will live on forever, even if an entire army attempts to trample it.

A small prayer can change your life, it can change your day. A small prayer can bring you to recognize HaShem in a way that you never have before. The silent whisper of my prayer "Baruch she asah li et haness hazot" is sometimes enough to render another miracle. And the knowledge that my HaShem is one, is real, and is forever watching will always be enough to keep me going.

Speed is irrelevant. Time has no place in the world of HaShem.
Deceptions are not meant to be lived with but ignored. Do not give them a moment of your time.
Love can fix the most broken things in the world and can also tear down the buildings of a lifetime.
A slow prayer, whispered so only you can hear it, is the one that gives you the most strength.
Habit should not be dismissed because then the action is easily forgotten.
And Hamlet, my dear friends, was most definitely not crazy.

no greater love

2006-09-18T20:02:00.000-07:00

There are some things that you really always know. Despite what we may say or convince ourselves to believe there are some things that you keep locked in the back of your mind. Things that you hide from yourself because you are scared of what they may mean for who you are; for what you are.

There is a perush that explains that Eishes Yefas Toar (when you see a beautiful woman in war among the captives and you desire her) does not represent a woman but our neshama. He says we are in a war against our yetzer hara and we see among it's captives something so beautiful and so breathtaking that we cannot help but desire her. We see her beauty and grace, despite the clothes of captivity that she wears. We see her knowledge of better things despite the sadness that shadows her eyes. We desire her. So we bring her home and we shave her head and cut her nails. We remove her dress of captivity, the sins that she has committed during her absence from HaShem, and she cries for one month for HaShem and her people Bnei Yisrael. For one month; for Elul.

Among all the struggle and battle that is Elul we see our neshama. We see how beautiful she is and we cry because we let her get captured by the enemy. But we bring her back and we dust her off and we cry again, this time with her, for the sins and the wrongs that have caused her this pain. And we love her because she shows us what else we can be. We desire her because she awakens something inside of us that we do not understand but that we welcome. Because suddenly a chesed is not so hard, and in a moment I am dying to open that Chumash and to just learn, all because I have noticed how beautiful it really is.

We cannot enter this war with negativity, with sin, with punishment. Enter it with love, with passion, with the kind of excitement that you feel when you look into the face of the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. The kind of understanding and peace that you feel when you know "ani l'dodi v'dodi li". This kind of love is priceless, this kind of love can cross oceans and climb mountains, this kind of love can remove the punishments that are hanging over us threatening our futures.

In a world full of judgment it is so easy to pass that judgment onto yourself. In a society caught up in what and how it is all too simple to forget the why. And in a religion where the truth guides us it is easy to hide from your own truths.

Do not face Elul with fear and pain. Face it with purity, responsibility, and love. Shed your tears through every tefillah and dance your joy during every mitzvah you do. Open your mind, your soul, and your heart to the love that HaShem is dying to give us. And understand that there is no greater love in the world than the one that is standing right before your eyes.

Treasure Hunting

2006-09-01T14:16:00.000-07:00

Beneath our very feet, buried under layers of golden sand, there is a treasure. No one knows where it lies, no one knows what it is, but all believers know it is there. So sharpen your eyes; it's time to go treasure hunting.

The sand sinks under our feet. Perhaps we are not real pirates, and it could be that there is no chest buried on the beach, but we don't care. In our imagination we can be whatever we want, and today we are treasure hunters looking for pirate treasure on the shore. We walk with heavy steps across the beach. The waves come up to my feet ready to play, the cold water touches my toes and I almost give in. But then I remember; I don't have time for games today for I am a treasure hunter. I reach out to take his small hand in mine but he is a pirate right now and pirates do not hold hands with their sisters.

We have been looking for hours, searching every foot of the beach. Still nothing. But no matter how long it takes we do not give up hope, we know that soon we will find the treasure. Suddenly he comes running. There it is, laying in his palm, a sparkling pirate coin.

Alright, so it just a dime, but to us it is the very coin that Blackbeard once held in his hand as he stood on these very shores. To us it has importance beyond it's real value, to us it is a piece of a wonderful adventure.

Not everything needs to be felt, not everything needs to be believed. Some things you just do because you know you must. Some things you just do because you know it is real. I do not believe it is a pirate coin, but I know that this adventure, this memory, is more real a moment that most people experience in a lifetime. His face, his joy at our game, that is real and that is what I know. And after I look at the dime for a while it really does begin to look like a pirate coin to me.
Sometimes I fall away from G-d. Sometimes I lose my step, I stumble. I go from having this huge desire to pray to not being able to get myself to concentrate at all. And at those times I always think I should wait until I feel like praying, until my emotions are shoved into every word. But that doesn't work because some things you do not have to feel right away. I pray because I know it is real and I know I have to. I concentrate because I know G-d wants me to. And after a couple of days of doing it because I must I begin again to do it because I want. I begin to feel the words again and to desire that closeness in a way that is stronger than before.

"Ki lo reik hu meekem" Because it(Torah) is not empty from you. Why does it say "from you"? Abarbanel says "Ki lo dava reik hu, v'im reik hu meekem hu. Lama? Ki lo hishtadel batorah." It is not something empty and if it is empty, if you find something lacking in the Torah, then it is from you. The lack and the emptiness comes from you. Why? Because you are not working hard enough.

Do not say you do not connect to G-d. You misunderstand because it does not matter. You do it because you know you have to and you know it is real, and through that knowledge, and the actions that come out of that knowledge, you will learn to love it with your heart and your soul and it will become part of you. But first you must begin.

When you begin a challenge of any kind, whether it be an addiction or finding a treasure on an empty beach, do not wait to begin when you feel like you should. Begin because you know you should and because you know you must. It doesn't matter if you want to, you need to. So just begin and it will be impossible to fail.

When you are looking for a treasure you do not desire the hours of searching and walking that it will require to find the spot. You do not yearn for the digging and the shovelling that you will do to retrieve it. You do not even want the ugly wooden chest it will be homed in. But you do it, not because you want to or because your heart tell you to, you do it because your mind tells you that if you want the treasure you must do this first. You would not wait to begin digging until your heart was in it, for your heart will never desire the pain and fatigue that will come from this physical effort.

A dime can be called a pirate coin if you please, but that does not make it a pirate coin, it is still just a dime. And the power of your mind, the willingness to believe and the knowledge that life is what you make of it, cannot change what the dime truly is but can make you believe that you are a treasure hunter. And once you use your knowledge to transform yourself into the person you must be, your heart will guide you until your eyes can only see the withered old coin of a pirate long dead.

So sharpen your mind, your heart will follow, it's time to go treasure hunting.

Tagged

2006-09-01T13:49:00.000-07:00

1. Name one book that changed your life: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith. 2. One book you've read more than once: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn- I think I've read it ten times by now.
3. One book you'd want on a desert island: Lady of Avalon. That whole series actually.
4. One book that made you laugh: It takes a Village Idiot. This book is hysterical.
5. One book that made you cry: The diary of Anne Frank.
6. One book you wish you'd written: I Capture The Castle. 7. One book you wish had never been written: I don't have one. Why would I wish that?
8. One book you are currently reading: Minaret. It's really odd. I learned a lot. It was interesting. Worthwhile but not good.
9. Tag 5 people: diet garage if she's around, ss, yoni, david, lvnsm27. If any of you were already tagged I never know what to do so whatever. I suck at these things.

vacation

2006-08-18T14:34:00.000-07:00

I'm going on a end of summer vacation, I guess you could call it, for a couple of weeks and I won't have a computer. Have a good couple of weeks. Bye!

silhouette of the world

2006-08-07T18:25:00.000-07:00

Look how beautiful it is. Look at the contrast of colors. The shock of reality that comes from the brown in her hair. The sparkle of magic in her earring. And what amazes me most about this silhouette is that Charlotte Bronte was not beautiful; she was not the graceful elegant woman that this silhouette makes her out to be. But I suppose that is what art is: seeing the beauty and creating it in a way that everyone else can see it too. This is a shadow of her image, a shadow of who she was. It is not her entirely, it is not a complete representation of her at all. It is a shadow, only a shadow, yet it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

There is this feeling when you think you know what someone looks like and then you have a long conversation with them or you just look at them for a while and you realize that their face is not at all what you thought it was. It looks completely different. You feel as if you have just opened your eyes. You wonder how you could have not noticed that curve or that feature that stands out to you so clearly now. You only saw a shadow of them. You only saw a small sliver. And now you are finally seeing the rest of it.

When you know a blogger you know only a shadow of who they really are. Their life is secret, they realistic abilities are insignificant. Their true actions and thoughts are not represented here. Only a shadow, and sometimes a very beautiful one. But it is not real. What we have here is not real. It is only a shadow of a real world. A world where people sit silently and worry about the consequences of helping another. It is a world where sometimes the thoughts and opinions that are voiced here are kept silent. It is only a shadow and sometimes when we look up and try to see the real figure of the shadow we are blinded by the sun and we see only a dark silhouette. You can squint, you can lean as close as you please, but you will not see the features on their face or the expression in their eyes. All you get is a shadow.

A word is a very magical thing. A word can be used in a thousand different ways. A word, like music or dance or art, can show you the beautiful shadow of the world we see. A word can be woven and cut and stitched to fit any size. A word can go anywhere, it can be moved around to suit every situation. A word can represent a reality or a shadow. And although the story these words can tell has some truth they are not always real. A writer makes you hope that what they are saying is true. A good writer makes you believe that their words are real. A great writer makes you know that the words they have written are not merely a shadow of a greater creation, they make you know that it is a whole, that it is real. This is the kind of writer I want to be.

Many religions show you a shadow of the past. They rest their entire faith on this shadow. They gather their families and friends into the borders of it's dark outline and sometimes they only hope that it is real, and sometimes they believe. But there comes a day for every shadow when the sun changes, there comes that moment in time when the sun moves along. And when that time comes the shadow disappears. But you know what? The truth does not. And although the shadow may leave as quickly as it came with no proof of it ever being there the whole remains. And suddenly, instead of a shadow, you have the truth.

Our G-d, our religion, is not based on the shadow of something too great for us to understand. Our holy words, our Torah, our commentaries, they first let us hope that it could all be real and they they let us believe in it, and then once you have learned enough and searched enough and opened your mind enough you know. I know. I know it is real and true and I know that there is no other. I know that no matter how far I may sometimes fall I can always come back and it will still be there. I know that I live with the truth. I know. I know because the sun has shifted and the shadow disappeared. And although it can be very scary at first I soon realized that it was only a few small steps to the truth that had created the shadow in the first place. I know.

Jews start the day at night. It always seemed strange to me. Why do we start the day when we are asleep? That seems like we are starting out doing nothing. But we start at night because at night all of the shadows disappear. At night all of the slivers and slices and sections that we have been standing on fall apart. At night we are scared because we are asleep and we are not in control. We become unconscious for large amounts of time in which anything can happen and it is beyond our control. And then do you know what you do? You are scared because you have lost your shadows and you don't know where to go. And you are frightened because it is dark and you cannot see what is in front of you. But you look up at the sky and you see the stars, the thousands of stars that you cannot see during the day, and you remember that HaShem promised us that we would be like the stars in the sky and that we would last forever. So whatever shadows have disappeared and whatever tragedy has occurred that is beyond your control you will start your day off understanding that G-d is the truth,G-d is the whole,and G-d is watching out for you no matter what tricks the sun has played. G-d has promised you that you will be safe. So, with the sparkle of the stars above you, you begin to take your first step. And in your mind, before you move at all, you hope that it is true. After a few steps you believe. Then, at the end of the very long night when the sun comes up again and starts to play with your mind, you are strong because you know. You know.

A shadow is only beautiful because it represents the whole. It represents something good inside that is being reflected onto the earth you stand on. But when the sun goes down and the moon comes up, resist the urge to sleep. Stay awake and look at your world once the shadows have all disappeared. Look at your world with the truth, with G-d. And first you will hope, soon you will believe, and one day you will know. And when you do there will be no ray strong enough and no shadow big enough to fool you. You will finally see that it is only a shadow.

the truth about fireflies

2006-07-23T19:44:00.000-07:00

Fireflies only light up when they are talking to another firefly. A firefly alone in a jar will not shine; bugs don't talk to themselves. Humans, on the other hand, talk to themselves all the time. Perhaps bugs are not so self centered. Perhaps they just have less confusion.
But his face shines, even though the bug does not light up. The bug in his hand is just an ugly fly to me, a beetle actually, but to him it is magic, to him it is a miracle. And he believes in it. He believes in this little bug with a light. He goes to the library and searches "fireflies". He reads about their habits, their language, their lifestyle. He learns what they eat and how to make them comfortable. It's a lot of work for a bug. But for a miracle, for a miracle it's effortless.

These people all around me base their lives on opening up to the world, yet they are still so sheltered. They still have such a fear of anyone different from them and such a hate for new ideas. But despite this for a moment I wish I belonged here. Despite the fact that I am scared to open the aron, scared that the Torah is not kosher, scared to admit that they do not care. And I wonder if they would have been there for me as my community was not. I wonder if they also would have run from the truth. The truth seems to scare everyone these days.

"Do not struggle when the hook of a word brings you into the air of truth and you cannot breath." (The True Story of Hansel and Gretel)

I cannot lie anymore. I cannot hide. So here is the truth. I don't care if you do not believe it. I don't care if you accuse me of lies and sins. I don't care if you reject it. It is here for you to choose.

I was abandoned by my community. They turned their backs on me when we needed them most. When they learned that my father was abusive they did not offer a word of comfort. When my mother found herself and stopped believing him, when she found the strength and got us out of that nightmare of a life they questioned her. When he yelled and screamed and tore my heart apart in front of their eyes they did not move to help. They were too weak. They had so much power and they did not use it. The truth is that we fought it alone. The truth is that many others share my story. The truth is that our nation has made it part of our everyday life to turn our backs on other Jews. My nation is weak, they have lost their responsibility to each other and so have started to forget a tiny piece of HaShem but a piece none-the-less. This is the truth.

I was naive. I trusted him despite my past. But Jewish men have allowed the physical to overthrow the spiritual. And regardless of their deep disgusting secrets they agree to daven in our shuls- they lead the nation in prayer although they know that their actions are heartless and their words are tainted. This is the truth.

I bought a bracelet from a hot Israeli at the mall; a green string with blue beads that he told me represents hope. The truth is I have been lacking that these past few weeks. The truth is that regardless of the real power this bracelet has it has returned my hope. It gives me strength. All because I believe.

The truth is that my Israel is a mess of missiles and tanks and there is no guarantee that she will survive. The truth is that I wish I could go now but I know I cannot. The truth is that no one can save her but HaShem and I don't know if that is a truth our world is ready to live with.

The truth is that, no matter what, man has to believe. Whether it is true or not has nothing to do with it. You simply must believe in something. You must hope in something. They believe that G-d wants them to live that way. They believe they have no responsibility to me. He believes that his single sin does not taint the rest of his flawless purity. I believe that G-d will save Israel. I believe that you can hear the truth. I believe that I can save the people you abandon. I believe that some men are not scum. I believe in this bracelet on my wrist. I believe in love. I believe in family. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in G-d. I believe in hope. Whether it is true or not I believe. Whether it is reality or fantasy I believe.

And he believes in fireflies. He believes in a small ugly little bug all because he sees a light. A spark of beauty, of light, is all it takes. A spark of hope, of belief, is all he needs and he believes in fireflies. And you know what? I think I do too.

so much to live for

2006-07-06T17:51:00.000-07:00

His big brown eyes staring up at me, wide and blue, for the first time seeing me. From the expression on his face I know he hears me, from the wrinkle in his brow I know he struggles to understand. What do you know, little baby, that I do not? What secrets of HaShem are you keeping inside your little heart?
My hand drifts across the page. The words of the tefillah humming slowly inside me, like the quiet gentle tune of a mother singing her child to sleep. The words grow inside of me, they take shape, they take character. They become a permanent part of who I am. And when I speak these words escape from inside of me. They flow out swiftly and elegantly to enter someone else and become part of them as well. For that is what these words do, these beautiful prayers, they change us.

Her round blue eyes scan the room, looking for nothing and finding everything. She sighs. She lifts one hand in the air and moves it back and forward. The beauty of her face is striking, and though she is unaware of the movement of her arm it is graceful and perfect. What, sweet baby, are you dancing for? What miracles have you just noticed that I blind my eyes from seeing? How is it that you show more of G-d's greatness with one movement of your hand than I can show with a hundred dances?
The grass curls around my feet, forming to fit their shape. The sun behind the trees casts shadows all around me. The wind blows gently and the grass rocks in the breeze. The branches rustle and the shadows begin to move. Slowly. Beautifully. As if the entire universe dances with me. And though I am standing still I close my eyes and I am dancing. The wind spins around me, inviting me to twirl in the summer heat and praise HaShem with our movements. The grass beneath my feet struggles to be free and to join their movement to this dance of miracles. The clouds drift in time with the beat of the dance. The wind sings softly, a slow whispering whistle, adding to the beauty of this dance of our hearts.

"I am my prayer" Dovid said. For prayers are the desires of our hearts and so we are our prayers as much as we are our desires. And truth, truth has nothing to do with a desire. So pray. Pray for anything and everything. No matter who you are. Do not think of reality when you pray, for prayer does not have to be real. Just close your eyes and pray for what you most want, what you most need. Pray and you will be answered. Pray and you will be changed.

Martha Graham said, "We learn by practice. Whether it means to learn to dance by practicing dancing or to learn to live by practicing living, the principles are the same. One becomes in some area an athlete of God." There are miracles everywhere we look. Do not choose to miss them. There are small pieces of HaShem everywhere. Do not choose to reject them from your heart. Dance. Lift up your arms and dance. Dance for every miracle you have ever known. And if you cannot see any you must practice seeing them.

"Modeh ani lifanecha." Live. But never forget who gave you life.

despite you

2006-07-02T19:35:00.000-07:00

This was about hate, now it is about happiness. This was about disappointment, now it is about joy. This was about disgust, now it is about beauty. This was the pain you caused, now it is the life I will live anyway. Despite you.
When the sky turns to a pale pink and the clouds shine white against the setting sun I feel the energy that seems to be souring through the world. I see potential, I see beauty, I feel life. I understand G-d a little more than I did a moment ago. And suddenly I am filled with the desire to see everything this world has to show me and to find another bit of understanding in it; to find another bit of G-d.
Many parts of my life have come full circle. I feel so many of my ideas and thoughts finishing their path of questioning and learning and forming themselves into definite opinions and lifestyles; into complete circles that will now forever spin inside of me and define who I am and who I will become. I see these details, that only a moment ago where lines of life, coming together at one point and joining to form a shape so round and so perfect that I know even the strongest hardships will not break the bond.
I feel myself moving on. Growing up. Slowly, there is still a long way to go. I feel myself beginning to gather the courage and strength it will take me to go out into the world and be strong in who I am. I see more clearly what I want and why I want it. I see the place that G-d will continue to have in my life. I feel myself coming closer to Him and I shiver with anticipation at the thought of how much closer the next months will bring me.
And all despite you. Despite what you did and who you are. Despite who you pretended to be. Despite your lies and your fear, that sadly represent such a large majority of our world. Despite you and all others like you I will be strong. Despite the evil that I see in you I will not break as you did. You did not stand beside me in my battle, as you promised you would, only because you had already given your name to the enemy. But despite you I will still fight, and I will still win. For you blamed your defeat on the strength of the enemies when you failed to sharpen your sword. But I will take my love, my courage, my fear, my strengths, my weaknesses, my pain, my life, and my skill and I will win.
G-d gave me life and I intend to live it. He gave me a chance to have knowledge and I plan on learning all He can teach me. G-d gave me so many blessings and I do not blind my eyes from seeing it. He gave me a purpose and I will complete it. All despite you.

pick a road any road

2006-06-16T08:11:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wish my life was a movie. So everything could be scripted, planned. So I would have the perfect line to say, always the perfect response at that perfect moment. So the music would start playing, first slow and soft then leading up to the big bang of the drums at an appropriately dramatic moment. So I would know.
Sometimes a movie seems too fake. Sometimes I wish my life was a play. Plays are real, they live, they breath, they walk, they talk, they feel. Plays invite all people, from all walks of life. A play opens it's arms to welcome you in every time the curtains pull across the stage. A play makes you believe, it makes you see. There is no denying what is right in front of your eyes.
I just want to go. Pack my bags, get in the car, and drive straight. As far as the road can take me. I want to see what is out there. I want to experience everything, I want to stop at every seedy gas station and stay at at least one really gross motel. I want to climb a mountain and see what the world is like from the top. I want to canoe down a river and feel the shade of the cherry blossoms on my back. I want to lay on a dock with my hand swinging lazily in the water. I want to run through a field of flowers. I want to lay on the grass in the middle of the rain and feel the water splatter on my face. I want to ride in a hot air balloon and soar above the clouds. I want to go to a butterfly museum and just sit and let beauty fly around me. I want to go bungy jumping and ride a roller coaster just because I know it will scare the hell out of me. And most of the time the things that scare you are the things that end up changing you the most.
I want to see the world. I want to see the people who live in it. I want to breath it, to feel it, to see it, to hear it. I want to be welcomed into it. I want colors and music. I want to visit the Yemenites who camp in the desserts of Israel. I want to dance with Indian women, to be part of the colorful swirling circle that their saris make as they dance together. I want to see and question, and maybe do the answering once in a while.
I just want to keep driving straight even though I know I need to turn. Just some food, some friends, and enough good music to accompany me to Everywhere and beyond. Just us and the road and whatever decides to meet us along the way. Just us and the road and whatever adventures are waiting for us when we get there. No maps, no guides. Just pick a road and we'll follow it as far as it will lead us, we'll see where we end up.
When am I leaving? In my mind I have been gone for weeks. In reality it will have to wait for another time. But when I go I promise to take lots of pictures. I promise to send you postcards full of stories and experiences and adventures. I promise to bring back presents.
And when it is your turn I promise to stand in the driveway and wave until you reach as far as my eyes can see and a little beyond. I promise to read each of your letters a hundred times and to feel each of your adventures as if I did not have a hundred of my own.
And no matter how far I may go on my adventures, no matter how long the road may be, I promise that I will always come home. Because although the world may hold some of my adventure, my curiosity, my amazement, and my knowledge, you hold something else. You hold my heart, and that is something that I will never leave behind.

meir ben elka

2006-06-05T12:40:00.000-07:00

I received an email. An eight year old boy was kidnapped. There was his name. Written clearly on my screen. Meir ben Elka.
My heart screamed. My world collapsed for a moment. How could this be. How could this possibly be.

Another day, another email. Yael bat Sara. A baby. A brain tumor. Please say tehillim, please scream to G-d, demand to G-d, that she be healed.
My heart cried, the screams had no more strength. How could this be? Because it just is. Because our world is falling lower everyday. Because we do nothing about it.

It is already tomorrow. A boy was hit by a car. Yechiel ben... and I have already forgotten because he is now the twentieth name on my tehillim list. I need a bigger post-it.
My heart breaks. My heart cries slow tears, painful tears. Sadness overwhelms me. How does this happen. How does this work. Why him. Why not me. I crossed the same street today.

Back to last month. She just graduated. She had headaches. She has a tumor. She needs surgery. Chaya Rivkah bat Sheindel Sara. Her father was cursed with the same illness, he was not blessed to survive.
My heart has no more tears. So I try to use my mind. More tzedakah. More kavanah. More zechuyot. More begging. Please G-d, do not take her right now. Please HaShem, do not give our world more sorrow.

Another email next week, and the next, and the next. A girl was raped, a baby is sick, a mother is dying and her family cannot afford the surgery. I know they will never end. I know it will be a constant cycle of emails and tears. Until every part of me dries out, until I have no more tears to cry for there are too many people to cry for.

Why. Why now. Why is our world so ugly. Why can I still see the beauty. Why can others not. What makes me survive. What makes them stop caring. What can I possibly do to bring this boy home. This eight year old boy. I think it may be worse to have a child kidnapped and never found than to have your child die from an illness right before your eyes. At least that way you know and you are there to hold their hand when they go. Meir ben Elka. So easily could be my brother, my sister, my friend, me.

And I keep moving. I keep praying. My tehillim list becomes longer every second. Not everyone knows my email address I guess, so of course I was missing some names. There are even more stories. There is even more pain. Can I pray for a whole country. Because I do. Can I pray for a whole city, a whole town, a whole family. Because I do. Can I pray for the world, because that may be the only thing that sums it all up. Then I would only need one post-it instead of hundreds falling out of folders and envelopes, always reminding me of another tear I am tired of shedding.

I don't want to cry anymore. For anything. I want to only see the good. And sometimes that includes bad, but even then I want to smile and say this too is from HaShem.
I don't want anyone to suffer anymore. Our world is falling lower everyday and it is getting on my nerves. I am ready to do something about it. I am ready to stand up and fulfill my destiny, to make my mark, to complete one of my many goals. Mostly because I cannot stand to shed another tear.
What do I pray for now. I pray for strength and courage, for determination and knowledge, for understanding and caring. I pray that I should keep G-d by my side as I try to do my part.
And I pray for Meir ben Elka. Not because I know him or because I know his family, just because I would really like for him to come home safe.
Please add your prayers and any tears you may have left. And please add your actions, your words, your ability to change what is around you. Maybe then they will all come home.

nothing but a bris

2006-05-29T13:40:00.000-07:00

The entire morning was a mad rush to set up the tables, arrange the chairs, cut up the fruit, and slice the bagels. There was no time to think, no time to wonder what this was all for. Not a second to worry and not a moment to anticipate the arrival of this beautiful child. Yes, I have already held him in my arms and stared for long periods of time into his face, so perhaps in a sense he has already arrived. But today is a different type of arrival. Today he will finally be able to join our nation. It is nothing but a bris, but a bris is really everything isn't it. Just the thought of the miracle I am about to witness makes me smile.
I am standing in the back when it finally starts. The loud voice of the mohel bellows out, "bruchim habaim" to the couple chosen to carry the baby. The passing of the baby from the arms of one loving person into the arms of another. His mother is standing by me, tears leaking down her eyes, her shoulders shaking silently as she watches her baby travel farther and farther away from her to a place that seems more spiritual than physical. I am shivering, shaking, smiling, tearing, laughing all at once. He is about to become a Jew. He is about to connect with G-d in a way that brings spiritual and physical together. How do you put that into words?
I look at his mother. She sacrificed so much to join this nation, for her it was not an accident of birth, not so simple as being laid on a pillow and involuntarily carried away to be marked as a believer of HaShem. She gave so much to be here and gained more than any o fus understand. She is now zocheh to have another son join this beautiful nation. She is now zocheh to hear the cry of her baby as the bris is performed and to welcome her child back into her arms with the shouts of mazel tov ringing all around her. With song she welcomes him back to her arms, with love and with faith she takes him in, with G-d she holds him tightly and keeps him safe. With all of her heart and her mind and her soul she comforts him until the tears cease and sleep comes, until the pain is just a dream. With everything she has to give she begins the beginning of his life as a Jew.
His name has the blessing of determination linked to it. It has the gift of tefillah, of torah, of strength, and of leadership. It also has the joy of dance in it, as I have found all good names do. It suits him. This baby, who a moment ago had no name at all so smoothly slides into these characteristics and into all of the power that his name holds. Suddenly his face looks a little stronger, he seems to hold his arms differently. Maybe I am just imagining it but it seems to be that he has changed just a little bit. They are now both Jews, both part of this nation. Through this they will have a home everywhere they go, they will be connected to people they have never met, suddenly everyone in the room is a brother or a sister. Suddenly everyone around me is family. We are all one. One nation, one strength. For a moment united to welcome this child to join our miraculous existence. We are zocheh to so much beauty. We merit so much good. For centuries they have tried to destroy us and yet we are still here. We walk and talk and live and breath with the name of HaShem on our lips and in our hearts. Our outside and our inside, from our minds to our feet, are focused on this one entity. This one and only G-d. I am zocheh to belong to this nation, I am zocheh to belong to this family, I am zocheh to be part of something so true and so real, and I am zocheh to see how lucky I am.
Once again I find myself zocheh to say, "Baruch she'asah lee et hanes hazot."

a floating mind

2006-05-23T16:48:00.000-07:00

The two women in front of me are speaking very quickly to their two sweet children in Arabic and I am amazed how much it sounds like Hebrew. They are both covered completely, except for their eyes. First I think they must be uncomfortable in the summer heat, but soon I will change my mind.
A man approaches and stands in line behind me. I am at the library carrying more books than can possibly be good for my back and I am waiting for the next available librarian. I am facing forward and minding my own business when I feel a stare, I feel someone looking at me, at all of me. I turn around and sure enough this mans eyes were looking directly at my butt. When I turned to face him and give him an annoyed stare his eyes went to something else. It made me want a t-shirt that says "these aren't my eyes". I felt him undressing me in his mind. Then I felt the overwhelming need to vomit. Finally the librarian called "next" and I hurried over, happy to be away from this creep.
Then I got interested. He eyes transferred to the Arab women, whom I had already decided I loved by the way, maybe it was their sweet tone with their children or the way their eyes smiled at me, I don't know. But when his eyes settled on their covering clothing he looked away, there was nothing to see. I was dressed following all of the rules of tzniut, I was not even wearing any bright colors or fitted tops. But none the less I left so much of me available to this man.
Suddenly I wished I was dressed as these Arab women, for their extreme way of dressing just saved them from feeling like they were valued for nothing but their body. The only flaw in the Arab life of women is that not only is their body covered but so is their mind. They are raised to be quiet and not to speak their mind. They are abused and raped and considered little devils that 'god' sent to test man. This I do not agree with, this makes me value my religion and my ability to speak even more. But if you take them out of religion and culture and just look at their clothes, I find something to value. I wonder what it would feel like to be invisible from men for a day. To have my body disappear for one moment until there was nothing left to focus on but my mind.
I look at the jean skirt I am wearing, at my cute shoes, my colored bangles layered up my left arm, at my lavender nail polish, at my blue mascara. At my hair, my big banana curls falling to my shoulders, at my polka dotted shirt and my large beaded necklace.
I look at their slate blue dresses, their simple head coverings, and the beauty of their eyes. I see their sparkling sandals peaking out of the bottom of the dress. And I wonder, what are they really missing?
I am in a world where girls struggle with tzniut all the time. We want to wear certain things or look a certain way and we can't. I for one know that I envy the freedom that pants seem to give, or the coolness that a short sleeve shirt seems to have in the summer. And generally I am ok and confident in my clothing for it represents my connection to G-d, sometimes wishing I could wear more things, but here I am wishing I could cover more up. Here I am wishing we had a specific dress we had to wear. Because if it will stop this man from looking at me I will wear it. And if in this world of rapists and molesters I will feel a little bit safer from the glances of those men I will happily throw out everything I own.
My clothes show who I am, it is true. But my mind shows it even more, and my thoughts and words can let you into the depths of my heart. But for one day, just one day, I wonder what it would be like for my body to be invisible. For me to show only my eyes, the only physical aspect necessary to see into my thoughts and emotions. For me to just be a mind, a floating mind. For just one moment.

and so I dance

2006-05-18T12:50:00.000-07:00

They are lying side by side in the bassinet. They are each wrapped in two blankets and sleeping peacefully. Their little bodies all warm and soft. Their little lungs working perfectly, thank G-d. I take her in my arms and she weighs practically nothing, but she is worth so much. Her eyes slowly close, her breathing calms, and she falls asleep. The tears that are forming in my eyes coincide with the feeling in my heart that makes me want to hold her forever. To just sit and watch them forever. He has a strong face, with intense eyes. She is delicate, with big cheeks and a sweet nose. Their eyes are small and unseeing, yet they know everything.
And as one small tear of joy falls down my cheek I whisper to my creator and to theirs, "baruch she'asah li et haness hazot." Blessed be the One that made this miracle for me. And they are not even my miracle. They are the miracles of two lucky parents, two loving parents. Two amazing people who have come through so much. Two people who care enough for us that they have allowed us to join their family forever and to partake in this miracle.
Even though they were so light my arms feel empty when I put them down. Even though we are all squeezed on one bed and they are just laying there we cannot seem to tare our eyes. Even though their life has just started we treasure each moment as if they will not have a million more.

There are times when something will happen, or someone will happen, and your heart miraculously feels a little more full. But the funny thing is that you did not notice that emptiness before, you did not even notice that space in your heart. Now that it is full you feel as if your heart has expanded when it really has not changed at all. I wonder how two little babies can cause so much change inside of all of us.
G-d has given me so much and yet He continues to give me more. I have a never ending pile of good that contains every blessing I have ever received. It contains beauty and joy, laughter and the feeling of a soft kiss on your cheek. It contains pain and sorrow, heartache and sadness. For you see, those are blessings too. I am constantly faced with more and more blessing, and I wonder what I do to deserve such good. I wonder what blessing I could possibly utter, what words of praise will ever be strong enough to express my thanks to HaShem.
I wonder if there will ever be anything large enough, anything powerful enough, anything strong enough and beautiful enough to really show my thanks to G-d. And then I realize that there is. These two babies, pure perfect and strong, are waiting to be raised. They will be raised with G-d on their lips and in their hearts. They will be raised with laughter and with joy. And they are created in the form of the One I want to thank. What better thanks than to do His form justice.
Life is the greatest praise we have. Life is the greatest challenge as well. To live, not merely to exist, there is only one way: HaShem. The Torah is life, the mitzvot are life. Without these I will not be living. It is my safety and my adventure. It is my knowledge and my stupidity. It is my achievements and my down falls. It is who I am and who I am waiting to be.
It is everything. It is the entire world and it was written for me.

"Vatikach Miriam Haniveah, achot Aaron hakohen, et hataf b'yadeha v'teitzei kol hanashim achareha bitupim ubimcholot." They went out with song and with dance, with their drums and their hearts and they thanked G-d for the miracles they had seen. After hundreds of years of slavery and centuries of pain they smiled at HaShem and said proudly, "ZE keili v'anvehu" this is my G-d and there is no other.
And so I dance. I dance for their miracles and for mine. I dance for the miracle of music and the miracle of movement. And I have found my form of praise.

.......and as my feet touch the ground, following the rhythmic pattern of the music, I am reminded of so much more blessing: Of my feet and my hands that make the pattern of my movements. Of my ears that hear the songs of my soul. Of my heart that beats along with the music, my own drum. Of my voice that creates the music, that sings praise to my only G-d, softly singing, "bless the One that made this miracle for me."

And their eyes flutter in their sleep as I bring my hands to rest at my sides. And I know they are dreaming of HaShem. Of the only home their souls have ever known until now. And I know that we will try to make this home as much like their first one as humanly possible. And I know that through that they will truly live.

it is clear

2006-05-09T19:13:00.000-07:00

She is sitting by herself in the empty room with the bare white walls. She relives the moment over and over, that one moment when her destiny changed. That one moment when she was called to do something else, to be someone else. But the terror of that moment is too much for her and she pinches her arm, coming back to the reality of the room. She is safe. She is fine. And though there will be a permanent mark, on her body and on her soul from this experience, something reminding her and the world she lives in of the tragedy of this day, she feels like she is alone. There is no one else who has lived through what she has, not in the same way. In one moment she has been robbed of her body and even part of her heart. There is no promise that she will move on, no promise that she will be strong enough to get past this. There is no promise that the world will lend her an understanding shoulder to cry on, or at least a sympathetic one. How can she be so different and yet look so much the same? How has this miracle, this beauty that can create a level of love beyond our understanding and even create life, have been taken from her in what seems like a second? How can that have been allowed? By G-d, by man?

The plastic pane that has been inserted into the hospital wall is smudged. Perhaps from the many parents and families that have stood here watching their babies and wishing they could touch them. Sticking out their hands, for a moment forgetting there is a wall between them and their child. And she looks at the two babies, who only a day ago were hooked up to more machines that most people depend on in a lifetime, and she starts to cry. Slow beautiful tears of joy and thanks to G-d. For today they are coming home. Today they are healthy, their little baby legs kicking into the air and their eyes open and staring at the bare white walls of the room. One has a name, a name of strength and wisdom, of dance and song. One will now, thank G-d, be allowed to officially join the Jewish nation. He will soon have a name, and a permanent mark on his body reminding him of his bind to G-d and his people. She sees their small perfect faces and wonders how something so physical and so flawed could create something of so much beauty. And she sees G-d so much stronger in the world.

The laughing becomes distant, even though it is coming from the girl right next to her. The ringing of a cell phone is droned out and the fork she holds in her hand is placed gently on her plate. The chocolate cake in her mouth melts and she swallows it, savoring the warm taste. It is her friends birthday, or it was, and this party is a small and late celebration. The other families in the restaurant join in when they sing happy birthday, and with this little song they have been allowed to join something bigger than a night free from cooking. They have just joined in a miracle. A miracle of birth, of great beginnings, of searching and finding, of starting something and finishing it and then starting something else, of trying and then trying again. Of life. And of something bigger than that: G-d.

The strong wood of the aron hakodesh seem to beckon to her. She can feel the soft velvet of the drapes even from her place in the back of the room. There is no one else in the shul anymore, they have all gone home. But she is here, she is here to feel G-d. So she walks over to the aron and opens up its holy wood doors. Sliding them apart until she is faced with the greatest miracle she will ever see. The two sifrei torah look at her, with looks more piercing than any stare and love more penetrating that any hug. They wear their crowns proudly, knowing that they encompass G-d who is everything. Her hand strokes their stomachs and she feels the words written on them entering her and bringing her closer. And her lips start moving, uttering the words of the last perek of tehilim. We will praise G-d with horns and trumpets, with our voices and our music, we will sing for Him and give Him honor. And our souls will be the last to sing His praise. For even at the last moments of our physical lives, and forever in our spiritual ones, our souls will sing His praise and honor His name. And perhaps that is the greatest miracle.

Teach your children not to hate. Teach them to only see the good. Teach them to control their anger for anger is only denying G-d and His master plan. Teach them the power of kindness and patience. Teach them that G-d is the only one and the only reason for how they live. Teach them logic and reason and teach them emotions and faith. Teach them to look at their own plate and see the amount of good they have, do not ever let them measure against another's. Teach them to love and to share. Teach them to see without being told and to understand from a power stronger than their minds.

Show your children G-d in everything from toothpaste to the chumash. Show them how He is found from the dirt on the ground to the clouds in the sky, and even the planets beyond that. Show them that life is good, that living is a gift not to be wasted. That morals are not just words but they are little parts of G-d that make their way into your minds and teach you how to live. Show them how to live and show them how to die when your time comes.
Show them G-d and perhaps they will show it to other people too. Show them kindness and they will pass it on. Show them encouragement and they will hand it to the one next in line. Show them faith and they will show it the world. Show them how and they will show you results. Show them love and they will love back stronger.

Why do people hate? Why do they cause pain? Why do they lie and cheat and embarrass? Why do they kill with their hands and why do they kill with their words? Why is the most common known Hebrew word oozi: my strength, for a gun and not shalom: peace?
Why does she keep going, keep taking another breath? Why does she smile even though she is dying on the inside? Why does she attempt to heal the damage?
Because she has G-d. Because she knows that He will decide, that He knows what is right, and that He was watching over her in a situation where she seemed alone.
Why do you believe in G-d?
Because it is real. Because G-d stood on a mountain and told us these words. Because He said these things to me and to you, and because He has never come back to tell us otherwise.
And because she is here. Despite the bad and even the good she is here and she is smiling.

"Gam zu l'tova." We know that to be true. Now please G-d, let us see it.

do you ever wonder?

2006-05-06T20:39:00.000-07:00

I wonder what the future holds, what marvelous moments it has in store for me. Sometimes I wonder so much that I feel as if I cannot wonder anymore and if I do not live this future right now I will burst from the anticipation.

I wonder what makes people hate, what makes them love. What turns a beautiful baby into a vicious killer and what makes a son turn into a rapist. I wonder what makes people stop feeling, stop connecting. I wonder what makes me a part of the people around me.

I wonder what will happen to me tomorrow. I wonder what I will think and what I will accomplish. I wonder if I will fail and I wonder if I will get back up. I wonder if I have will have the strength of mind to brush myself off and get keep moving.

I wonder what makes people believe. I wonder what builds up hope. I wonder what gives people the ability to put together their logic and their faith to make one perfect picture of reality. I wonder if I have that strength too but I just do not see it.

I wonder how he is, how he gets on. I wonder what he looks like and how his voice sounds when he speaks. I wonder if his hair is still the same shade I remember, and if he walks the same way he used to. I wonder if he remembers me.

I wonder if people see all of me. I wonder if I present a full picture of myself. I wonder what danger I am putting myself in by writing these words. I wonder who is reading them. I wonder who you are and if by chance I know you and have seen your face.

I wonder if I will write for the rest of my life. If I will make it a part of me and a part of my destiny. I wonder if I will drop it for something else. I wonder if I will lose my passion for it. I hope that I do not.

I wonder if I will ever get to Israel. I wonder if there will be any Israel left to see. I wonder if other people believe as much as I do. I wonder if others feel the same way I feel when that word is uttered. I wonder if I will always keep this love. I hope that I do.

I wonder if every word you say needs to be important for people to think any of them are.

I wonder if mistakes and immaturity lie on your back forever, shaping who you are, and who you are to others.

I wonder if people take me seriously. I wonder if people see the longing in my heart to help people.

I wonder if my eyes show my emotions. My love and my faith, my awe and even my hate.

I wonder why people are so closed minded and why I am so stubborn sometimes.

I wonder why I can feel one thing, and think something in my mind, but then say something different.

I wonder why I feel different on the inside. Why I sometimes feel the aching need to leave and explore that was not there this strong before. I wonder why watching you drive away makes me want to come with you, just for the chance to see what lies beyond.

I wonder why emotions run wild sometimes and before you even think there are words flying out of your mouth that don't match up with the thoughts in your head.

I wonder how it is possible to miss something so much and to be comforted by something so small.

And I wonder what you wonder. So please let me know.

it's been forever

2006-04-30T17:27:00.000-07:00

There is a question that perhaps reaches all of us at a certain point in our lives, that maybe starts from a small comment and grows into something larger than that, something that starts enveloping you and surrounding your mind. Or maybe it's your heart. And it starts grinding away at you bit by bit because you are so confused, and it kills you to be confused about something this simple. Something that was so clear to you a moment ago. And it kills you because there are enough things right now that are naturally confusing and here you are adding another one.
And that question is strengthened by friends and family, by teachers and poems your recite in your mind in the middle of the night. And that question is trivial, is small, is something that is a regular topic in your life but now seems to be so much more than that, so much more than just a topic. That question is the question of shomer nagiah: guarding your touch.
Because although your first thought is not to, your second thought questions. And although your third thought tells you to go with your initial reaction your fourth thought brings logic into the fight. And that logic is if you want something so badly why not get it. Do not give yourself entirely, save yourself for a later point in your life, for a more mature moment in your destiny. But why not extend your hand to the one you love? And you know you are not the type who will go and kiss every boy you see. You know that if you did this you would do it right. And you know that even if you decided today not to be shomer you would not go and get a boyfriend. You know nothing would change, maybe not for a week or maybe not for years. And you know that just because you decide in your mind to be this kind of person that does not mean you would tell anyone or do anything. It does not mean that I would put my hand in his.
Because the only thing stopping me right now from finding out what I want is the fact that I know I want something that is forever. I want to kiss one man for my entire life, I want to only hold his hand in mine from now until I die. But unless you can look into the future, and tell me that me and him are forever, I will stay on my side of our world. I am only saving myself, everything from my lips to my hands to my heart, for forever.
But would you give me that promise, that knowledge from something greater than our hopes or dreams, I would not hesitate to walk straight into your arms.
I am in love, not with a man I know or see, not with anyone that is in any way in my life, but with a boy who's memory still makes my heart smile after all these years. In reality I have not spoken to him in years, I have not seen his face since the last time he told me goodbye. And yet I still hold him in a very special place in my heart. And could you swear to me that we would be forever, that we could be forever, and if by some chance we met again and we wanted with our entire hearts to be forever, I would not hesitate. And I don't know that I should want to.
I know that this is how G-d wants it to be, and so really I wait for Him more than I wait for myself. For my faith in G-d is stronger than my faith in love. But while I wait here, seeing his face again and again in my mind, I know that I really only wait for the promise of forever.
I have faith that one day I will find forever. I must, or what will stop me from reducing forever to today? But sometimes I wish I could look into the future, beyond the confines of my mind and my surroundings, and see who is my forever. Because although I know I will wait and although I know that the waiting won't kill me, sometimes I wish I had forever right now beside me to hold my hand, dry my tears, and make everything alright.
But I see the promise of forever in the sky, in the clouds, as if it is written out clearly for only my eyes to see. I see the picture of forever and I know that he too is waiting for me, for I am also someone's forever, and I am waiting right here, waiting to be found. If only we both could find each other now then forever would be maybe only a moment longer. But sometimes a moment can feel like forever and sometimes the memory of a love can last you until forever finally comes.
But right now, I feel like I have been waiting forever.

I was tagged, so here goes...

2006-04-28T12:38:00.000-07:00

Accent: I never really noticed before. Nothing specifically linked to any area, I just talk.
Booze: Whatever you've got.
Chore I hate: I hate doing laundry with a passion.
Dogs: One of these days I hope. I want a cute hot-dog one.
Essential Electronics: Computer. Does that count?
Favorite Perfume: Dolce and Gabana Light Blue and the new Be Delicious but I forget who's it is.
Gold/Silver: White gold works.
Hometown: I don't give personal info, you guys might be stalkers.
Insomnia: I don't know what that is so I guess no comment.
Job title: student.
Kids: Not at the moment.
Living Arrangements: Not too shabby.
Most admired trait: My sparkling personality.
Number of sexual partners: Not applicable. But is that an offer?
Hospital stays: One.
Phobia: Swimming.
Quote: "Loosen your girdle and let her fly"
Religion: Jewish.
Siblings: 4
Time I wake up: 6:30
Unusual talent: I'm a damn good dancer if I say so myself.
Vegi I won't eat: Anything I can't spell.
Worst habit: Cracking my nuckles.
X-rays: 2
Food I make: Cereal. I am good with cereal. Some people mess up the cereal to milk ratio but I've got it down.
Zodiac: I have no clue.
I tag diet garage, lady light, and yoni.

something beautiful

2006-04-15T20:07:00.000-07:00

"Why is your name Tatty?"
"Because I'm your father."
"Why are you my father?"
"Because I married your mother."
"You married your mother?"
"No, I married your mother."
"Oh. Why did you marry my mother?"
"Because I loved her so much and I couldn't stand to live another day without her."

This is the kind of love we should all be blessed with. The kind of beauty we should all merit to see. Because as he looked across at his wife with his son on his lap, although she was swollen in her pregnancy and sweating in the new summer heat, there was no woman in the world more beautiful to him. And the love he felt showed in his eyes. And when their eyes met they both smiled a secret knowing smile, understanding that they would have each other forever and even more after that. And they will pass this kind of undying love onto their children, and they will forever hold each other inside their hearts, beyond the limits of any physical world. And sometimes these same lips that spoke these beautiful words criticize and get frustrated. But they are still loving, even at those most human moments there is something miraculous in their love, something that reaches beyond all physical abilities.
I hope one day I have this kind of love, and I hope that all of you are blessed to have it too. I do not know everything about you, sometimes I don't even know your name. But nonetheless I want this for you as much as I want it for me. I want you to look into someone's eyes and know that you hold them forever and they hold you. So take this blessing and share it, give it to the people you love and the people you hate. And maybe this love will spread. Maybe this miracle will cover the world and remind us of the good that is always possible and always waiting to be taken by the hand and introduced to our vast world.

nothing lacking

2006-04-10T18:42:00.000-07:00

On those long summer nights when the grass has just completely returned to it's brilliant shade of green and the trees are not yet full with their leaves yet they still give off the glow of growth, and the sky is a perfect shade of pale blue. The flowers are opening to their fullest to tilt their faces up to the sun and let it's warmth enter their stems and reach down to the earth itself. The brown cool earth that feels like home when you hold it in your hand. And you are looking up at the sky thinking how beautiful everything is and how you couldn't think of one other thing you could possibly ask for. Everything is as it should be and you feel the warmth of the summer, as if the sun has suddenly realized it's strength, and you let the warmth enter you and seep down into your very bones. Then suddenly there is an uncomfortable tapping on your shoulder and you come back. You are laying on your sisters stomach with a five year olds head rested lightly on yours and you realize it is your turn to say "ha". And so you take your turn, saying ha four times very slowly. And you feel the little girls head go up and down with every breath you take and watch her entire body jump at every loud ha. And then the ha rolls into a giggle which rolls into a laugh and then she starts laughing and the circle of head on stomach continues until you are all laughing, dizzy from the heat and drunk from the perfume of the flowers.
Those summer nights when each blade of grass under your barefeet seem to wrap themselves around you and envelope your entire body, reaching into you and taking you heart and soul, in the freshness and the peacefulness of summer. The quiet lullaby of your mother singing the baby to sleep and the laugh of the younger girls across the yard. The feeling of family in the breezy night and the promises of more nights like this one, unspoken in the air.
And then you feel a drop on your head. One small heavy drop that lands right on the center of your scalp. And then ten more follow, pitter patter on your head until your hair is laying flat against your cheeks and your eyes are blurred by the movement of the rain. The little kids are shrieking and the adults move into the house, but you just lay there, unmoving, and let the rain fall onto your body and soak the ground around you. And you think to yourself, how is it possible that life could turn out so perfectly? What did you do to deserve such beauty? But sometimes the world can't work like that. Sometimes you can't wonder how you got it because then you will always be scared that it will be taken away. Sometimes you just have to live the moment. Just feel the earth under you and the rain on you face. You just have to hug the baby on your lap a little bit tighter and pray to G-d as hard as you can that it all won't be taken away. Sometimes you just have to live and not think. Often times what you have right in front of you is more than enough. And if I was honestly asked right now what I wanted, if I could ask for anything, the only thing I could think of is my grandfather, that he should stay healthy. That my uncles and cousins will stay safe throughout the night. That my grandmother should be blessed with sweet dreams and happy thoughts and live a long and healthy life. I want the women in front of me to have an easy birth and to bring these two babies inside her out into the world with more joy and less pain. And by now my clothes are drenched and the ground is soft, the sky is back to the perfect shade of blue. And I go inside to take a warm shower and go to sleep to dream of flowers blooming and babies crying, to dream of life. And today, tomorrow, and forever to live it.

is it possible

2006-04-04T19:12:00.000-07:00

"A Head of State who will shine forth as an example as the first faithful dutiful Jew in the moral nobility of this faithfulness to duty; who will be filled with the spirit of your calling as Jews and win all minds and hearts over this spirit;who will oppose with all the might of his word, his example, and the prestige and power of his position everything which is in oppostition of this spirit, and at whose disposal you are to place all your forces for this champion fighting in the front rank for the internal protection of your national calling. How very much this should be the real calling of the Jewish King..."(R'Hirch)

Our kings do not wear robes in bright colors or golden crowns, that is not what they are there for. They are not a symbol of our strength as a nation or our physical power. Our kings are symbols of our faith and our goals. He is filled with the emotions and the desires of a true Jew and with his faith and his truthfulness he will arouse those feelings in us as well. And under this one person, just a man, we become more than just men; we grow to become a nation. Then we grow even more to become G-d's nation, and then again to become faithful and dutiful Jews as is our role model and our leader.

We had a king once, we asked our prophets and our judges to give us a king. We had kings that seemed to live their lives for us while really living their lives for G-d, and only because of that uniting us as a nation. We had that unity and that purity for many years. But things were not perfect then either, we still were not united. Those days can be idealized and analyzed but in the end, Moshiach did not come then either, as a brilliant person once said to me.

And it makes me wonder; what will it take?

We had a king, we had our king, and still we could not unite our nation to live in our land and serve our G-d. Still we fought and we strayed. "Eileh barechev v'eileh basusim, v'anachnu b'shem HaShem Elokeinu" The other nations fight eachother with horses and guns, but we fight eachother with the name of G-d. We hurt eachother by dividing in the name of G-d and pushing other Jews away in the name of G-d. We may have asked for a king to be like the other nations but they rebel against their king with wars and overthrows while we rebel by serving idols that our kings have outlawed in order to preserve the name of G-d. We fight eachother for the sake of our religion, and yet we do not see that we hurt our religion so much more by it.

And now we do it again. We fight amongst eachother in the name of G-d. And we are losing our land because of it. "Religious Zionism is dead" my teacher told me. Maybe she is right. For Zionism has become a scandal, the unmentioned word and the questioning stares at the girl saying hallel on Yom Ha'atzmaut. We have forgotten the prize in the struggle and have turned our fear and frustration into arguments amongst our friends, not our enemies. We are losing our land because we are only fifteen percent of the population, and yet we feel no responsibility or unity to have every Jew in America pick themselves up and move. It seems insane, but what if we did? What if we had enough unity that every one of us could get up and leave, if we could all join together and go to our land as one nation? But we are divided, in the name of G-d. Because maybe there will be boys on the flight, or maybe the modern orthodox girls will sit next to the beis yaakov girls. And maybe some women will get up and start laning in the middle of the street.

Or maybe we will all join hands and dance. Maybe we will get out our drums and our tambourines and we will praise HaShem that we have all joined together as a nation as we did after He took us out of Mitzrayim. And maybe we will again be worthy of our precious Torah. Maybe then Moshiach will finally come and all of this suffering will stop. Maybe we will greet our king who will save us from this exile "Bitupim ubimcholot" with drums and with dancing. And maybe we will once again wear a Jewish star proudly on us, but this time not with prejudice as we were forced to in Germany, but with beauty and glory and the knowledge that we are one.

Maybe once again we will all camp on the streets of Yerushalayim and wait for the walls of the kotel to open and for the chance to enter G-d's home again, and we will be worthy of the description "Ki'eesh echad b'lev echad", like one man with one heart.

Tears are running down my cheeks and I am scared that by the time I get to Israel there will be no more Israel to see. I am scared that I have missed my chance to touch the stone of the kotel and to walk barefoot in the ocean water that greeted so many Jews who were finally coming home. I am scared that we will again lose our chance to be one nation, we will pass it by so quickly without once looking back. And you know what, Moshiach won't come now either.

We lost our king once, we blew our chance. But only for then, not for now. Our chance is here in this moment and if we wait a second longer it will be gone.

"This ideal was not realized. It still belongs, as does the whole of G-d's law to the future."(R'Hirch)

We have a choice to make, will we take our chance and complete our future, or will we let our land die with our unity when it could be our opportunity to gain it back? Only G-d makes the final decision, and yet we cannot sit back and let things go. We are not a nation, we are people. And so we will all sit at home and wait for someone to stand up and bring us all back. We will wait for that man, that king perhaps, to bring us home.

But, "Bimakom she'ein eesh, hishtadel lihiyot eesh", in a place where there is no man change yourself to become a man. There is this one man in each of us, the question is will we recognize it or will we wait, again, for a moment in the future. The choice is yours and the outcome is tremendous. So chose wisely and consider who you will be, if you will deny your responsibility or if you will take it and become it and then truthfully understand what it is to live in the name of G-d.

miracles

2006-03-25T20:33:00.000-08:00

There is so much beauty all around us and for some reason we don't see some of it. When we moved I had to pack all of my stuff, my clothes, my music. I felt like vomiting; I had so much stuff. I had so many clothes that I never even wore. I was packing my cd's and thinking that if I sold every one of them I could probably feed a family for a month. I spent fifteen bucks on the new Green Day cd and there are huge families in India living on two dollars a day. I felt gross. But then I packed everything and brought it to our new house and it all seemed to find a place. All of a sudden it doesn't seem like so much stuff. And then you start wondering if you really do have too much or maybe it's understandable. Then you forget entirely because you use most of it, or some of it is for next season, or some of it will make a really nice quilt-that everlasting project that never seems to get done. And all of a sudden you forgot about the family in India.
Do we notice how many miracles there are going on around us? Do we see those small things that get left behind in the pattern of our lives? Do you know that trees, these huge beautiful creations that tower over us and remind us of life even when they seem to be dead, come from little seeds? Do you know that women grow babies inside of them? Did you know that they grow these children and keep them safe and then they give birth to them? Did you ever see the sun rise? Did you ever wake up to an empty room with the light streaming in on the wood floors and a vase of bright pink flowers sitting by the window? Did you ever notice how amazing one small blade of grass is, how it feels right after it rains and the ground is wet and soft? Do you see the brilliant miracle of colors?
These are those everyday miracles of life that are forgotten. These are those things that make our lives full and beautiful. Without these things life would not be worth living.
We write our own stories, some people say. We paint our own pictures, we sing our own song, we dance our own dance. We see our own image, we hear our own words, and we find only what we have lost.
What if we only saw miracles.
Is it even possible to live like that? Maybe.
Tonight I cried. I cried for a lot of things that need not be explained, but then I came to a wonderful decision: there are far more miracles than happenings and there are far more blessings than curses, there are far more smiles than frowns and we laugh more than we cry. But sometimes life is not such a miracle and events are not really blessings. Sometimes we cry so much that the smiles are too far away to even be remembered. So why are we mostly happy? Because those curses are blessings and those tears are sometimes tears of joy. And those happenings, those everyday things like a tree growing in your yard, they all start with one little seed. Maybe something as small as a smile that grows and grows until one day you turn around and you have created a miracle.
Miracles happen, you just have to open your eyes.

why the title

2006-03-24T06:53:00.000-08:00

For years now I have always looked at people and thought that if only I could change the way they saw things then I could eliminate some of the problems in our world. That maybe if I just changed their point of view then I could destroy some of the hate and the judgment that consumes our society. It was all about them, their issues always seemed to have so much strength when my problems were always hidden.

Two weeks ago I said goodbye to our home. I said goodbye to all of the good memories and the fun times. I walked down our street one last time at seven in the morning and saw things differently, because that day I really saw them. And now the light is streaming in through the windows in our new house, and the fresh coat of paint on the wall is shining, and I know that I am home. Things are going to be very different now. I am no longer held down by the sadness of my past because I suddenly have a future. I am going to accomplish my dreams and make a difference in this ever changing world. I am going to be the best I can because suddenly it's possible.
I lost a lot of myself these past few years. Maybe I didn't lose it, but it wasn't there. I gave up on a lot of things because I didn't have the patience. There was so much other stuff going on that I couldn't deal with everything. And I didn't even notice they were gone but now I suddenly have them back and I feel so much more complete.

I could go for the rest of my life thinking that my key to changing the world is in other people. I could watch them and criticize and plan, and even take action, but I wouldn't succeed. If I lead by example, living what I believe and working on who I am, then I can maybe make a small difference. I am the theme, I'm going to focus on who I am and what I need to do to make me better. There is a very big world out there and I intend to change it. I am going to change how people see things and I will eliminate some of the hate.
I am going to change people, starting with me.