Change

The irony of my last post is that I no longer go through those motions. My schedule has changed and I no longer find myself passing the mirror man on Monday and Wednesdays. Instead, I now spend 10 hours at Pardes on Monday, and almost 15 hours at Pardes on Wednesday. I think it will take me another month before I find my rhythm again.


This is a time of change. The world watched Barack Hussein Obama become President Barack Hussein Obama; the recent war in Gaza killed many but may have some positive lasting effect; it's starting to feel like spring here (which is bizarre). On a more personal level, my dear roommate is leaving after a crazy and powerful 5 months. I'm going to miss her, and not just because it's been a pain in the butt to find someone to replace her in this apartment. The next four months, I believe, will be just as transformative as the past five. They will be difficult in different ways: I've found a community, but where do I fit in this community? What from all of these experiences will I take home with me? Now that I only have four months left, what do I want to focus on? Am I trying to live life in a "constant climax" )as many people my age are attempting to do)? Or am I trying to find a rhythm, a pattern, that allows me to experience a solidity that I've created? I want to think more about these questions; first, I must find a roommate. (If you know anyone who is looking for an apartment in J-lem, let me know!)

I've made friends with the new guard at Yad Byad (the bilingual school). Every morning I walk through the gate and smile at him (I learned today that his name is Guy). He asks me, "ma nishma?" (how are you?) and I respond appropriately, though I am occasionally caught off guard by his friendliness. Small talk isn't really an Israeli thing. Today I passed through the gate 6 times (the teachers at Yad Byad needed some things at the convenience store, "let's send the friar volunteer!" (trans. friar: a sucker)). Every time I walked by Guy, he was doing something different: smoking a pipe, playing saxophone, fixing a radio... The friendliness at Yad Byad is refreshing because it seems to radiate from every face and every classroom. I'm grateful to have such places in my life, even if they do send me on errands.

I started a new class this semester called "Spiritual Texts and Practices." Just so you know, if you rolled your eyes or giggled, I'm expecting that. I'm aware of the "granola crunchy" nature of my activities. Every week, we learn about, discuss and participate in a different Jewish spiritual practice. Last week, we began with quieting. One focuses on his or her breathing, attempting to clear the mind of any thought. During this stage of mental quietness, one begins to focus on a holy verse ("God is truth," or something of the kind). After binding the mind to this holy thought, one makes a bakasha, or request for some kind of character perfection. This request must be positive, not negative ("Let me have more energy" not "Make me not lazy"). After this request, one utters a holy phrase and end in singing the phrase: "הורני ה דרכיך," "Show me, Oh Gd, Your path."
After attempting this practice several times, I found that I was completely unable to focused. I was so unfocused, that I even forgot that I was meditating. I forgot the process and I could not, in any way, control my thoughts. I couldn't even sit still. I was encouraged by the fact that my mind began to clear when we began singing. Too bad the music ends the practice.

This week we are discussing love and spirituality in the community. We read Kabbalistic texts and the "Beit El Contract," both relating to the value of communal love. For our prayers to ascend to Heaven, says R. Hayyim Vital, we must concentrate on loving all of the members of our community so that our prayers "ascend, bound up with all the prayers of Israel. By this means his soul will be able to rise above and effect tikkun" (tikkun: repairing of the relationship between the lower realm and the upper realm). We refer to this communal love as "havurah," or fellowship. Reading these texts is both inspring and grounding: the beautiful words of the strong connection between a coherent and loving community and spirituality are a welcome reminder of my strongest core values and essentially why I continue to be a passionate Jew. Our homework this week is to try to incorporate the phrase "love they neighbor as yourself" "ואהבת לרעך כמוך" into our morning ritual as a reminder that we should try to love and appreciate all members of our community.

I am also taking a class on Hasidut. We learn about the great Hasidic masters and their teachings. Our spiritual homework this week: "The רג'נר rebbe knew what his function was in life and he knew how to do it. Do I know what my function is in this world? Do I know how to play that role? Am I working in that direction? Do I need to refocus? What is my function in this world? What wavelength am I broadcasting on (this is a Kabbalistic question, crazily enough)? What are my strenghts?

I hope I made you think a little bit. Or I gave you a way to clear your mind.
חודש טוב

Mirrors

I live so deeply in my life rhythm that I have begun to develop muscle memory.

This dent in the curb is where I jump onto the sidewalk after avoiding the ubiquitous dog poop.

This is where I duck to avoid the not-so-carefully trimmed bushes that slowly creep over the walls and into my path.

This is where I turn my head and make eye contact with the bald man who works in the mirror shop.
Every Monday and Wednesday, I walk up the hill towards the prematurely setting sun, squinting my eyes and hearing my feet clap solidly, rhythmically with the stone sidewalks.
I duck under overhung bushes here, too. The Jerusalem stone apartments on my left end, and I reach a small store.
In the beginning, I turned my head to look at the seemingly precariously hung full-length mirrors that adorned the storefront. Now, my neck knows as the green fence ends that it must turn my head to the left. Mirror, door, mirror. My eyes dart twice. From my own eyes, reflected in the glass, to the eyes of the bald man, back to my own eyes. And then forward again. Every Monday and Wednesday for three months I have made eye contact with the man who hangs these mirrors.

I have had no other interaction with him other than our twice-weekly glance. Does he wonder who I am, too? Or does my face, often flushed from the cold, blur in with the school girls, the dog walkers, the yeshiva boys, the tired mothers, the hurried fathers…

I walk through the streets, absorbed in the rhythm of my steps synched with the beat of my music and I notice, only vaguely, the people who pass me; eyes peaking out over scarves, or staring ahead, intent but unfocused, leave only a small impression in my brain. But I’m starting to recognize, now. Six minutes away from school, the man on his bike weaves to the right to avoid me. Five minutes away, the girl with the shiny black hair looks up at me from her phone. Four minutes away, three, two…I arrive at a place I recognize. Eye contact here leads to conversation. There are smiles here, too.

Every brief connection I have with a person adds a small pebble onto the pile of memories that shape who I am. As I pass the mirrors, I have a tiny moment’s glance of how I appear to the people whose eyes I meet. They are all mirrors to me now. I am conscious of my body, my posture, my pace, and their eyes reflect my own expression. Hidden interest. We’ll keep walking. Every day I’ll pass them in the street.

It is odd to me that my daily rhythm, which stays the same, changes me with every step.

מי שברך לחילי צה''ל

Israel is once again at war. In this incredibly difficult time, I'd like to post this prayer for the soldiers of the IDF. I'm not usually one to post prayers on the internet, but I believe that it is important for the soldiers to know that people are thinking about them as human beings. People are dying on both sides.
At the same time that I am struggling with Israel's actions, I am living under the relative security that is protected for me and for everyone else living in these borders. I hope no one reads any politics into what I have written. I am writing out of concern and appreciation.
Below is the prayer for the soldiers of the IDF.
I hope everyone has a peaceful and happy new year.