Can't we all just get along?

So I just have to say that people are incredibly judgmental. For the past nine months I have been skirts-only in public (I just love my pajama bottoms too much at home to give them up). This by itself has caused certain looks from many strangers, esp in the winter when I pair it with tights or leggings and close-toed shoes--very stylish. Fashion has never been a strong point or something I've really cared about. Frankly, nor has the opinion of how other people view my dressing habits. At work I wear a variety of shirts, including t-shirts on some occasions. Keep in mind that at work I also have to wear brown steel-toed shoes. And yes, even there I wear a skirt. These days, usually coupled to knee-length thick socks so no skin shows and it is as though I was wearing pants according to our safety guy. I was feeling nostalgic and so one morning this week I put on my yeshiva t-shirt. On the front it says "Ani *heart* talmud torah", but written with hebrew characters. The back has a few things in Hebrew too and gives a plug for the yeshiva. I guess I looked a little odd. Each element on their own was fine, put together a little mismatched, I admit. Then again, it was something I was comfortable in and something which fit my mood and something I was accustomed to. Sometimes I forget that not everyone feels the same way. A few people at my work are not at all surprised by my attire any more and don't even pay attention. Being a lab rat, I don't see many of the office staff. The 'outside guys' are in gray uniforms and yellow tyvek suits daily and well, are guys, and hardly notice what I wear unless it is something somewhat fancy (which is rare working with chemicals and all).
A little background--I work in Commerce City at a hazard waste facility. Very blue collar. Very Christian-ish. For many of the guys, I'm the first Jew they've met. (side note: I try to take that role pretty seriously and represent as best I can. I try to use education to alleviate ignorance and uncomfortableness. And a smile and willingness and openness to talk). Anyway, on this particular day I wandered into the office area more times than usual. I got so many non-verbal disapprovals I was a little shocked. The shirt had a red heart on it and someone said "your shirt says you love new york". I was little on edge so it wasn't great to get teased, but I basically blew it off.
Since it is Pesach and that means I'm eating a lot more fruits and vegetables than usual (the original atkins diet I think), I had to go to the store that evening and buy some more fresh produce. I forgot to change out of my work shoes, but otherwise looked as I normally would and felt just fine walking into a store. No reason for embarrassment. I have many mixed feelings about what came next. The looks I received earlier in the day alerted me that I stood out a little; they were only looks. People too shy or fearful of confrontation to say anything. This was not the case when I walked into a store (in keeping with my idea of l'shon hora, I will not divulge information about the person or the place, except to say it was located near where I work). Someone yelled out "Go back to your own country, we don't want you here." I was intentionally run into from behind with someone's cart and when I looked back I rec'd a look that said, "Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it? So I hit you, you deserved it" The eyes, the head bobble, the stance with the hand on the hip. I had no need for words to understand their meaning.
I was really hurt and offended and shocked and frightened and saddened and angry and combative and vulnerable and volatile and humbled and proud and thankful. Amazing how many emotions I went through while checking out my "10 items or less". No words were exchanged between myself and cashier--none whatsoever. I've had some time to digest this event and it is settling with me about as well as matzah.

I don't understand--I feel like a little kid when I say that. Or when I hear in my head "Why are people so mean?" I'm whisked back to my childhood. Just because I don't dress the same. Just because I know a language other than English and show that. Just because I love being Jewish and am not ashamed to hide it. Just because I am an eclectic dresser. I am judged. Just because.

(this has inspired me to really put down my thoughts on skirts and visual identifications. for now it's late and I'm tired; I hope to get to that in a couple days)

Until then, shabbat shalom a tad early. I hope it is one of peace and wholeness. I know it will be a struggle for me this time.

Failure/Success, Personal freedom

Are we more afraid of success or failure? Do most people not even try because they fear they will fail or do they not try because they fear achievement in something new?

Usually the now is comfortable. It may not be perfect and there is probably a lot of complaining that goes on, but it is comfortable. There is a lot of effort needed to try something new.
I write these things from a very direct perspective. I've done comfortable and it's nice, for a while. These days I am able to know when I am getting stagnant and then I have the opportunity to question whether or not that is where I want to be. Sometimes there isn't anything wrong with a little stagnation.

In a couple weeks I am going to really break out of the comfort zone on so many levels. I'm not so immovable right now that this is such a jolt to the system. It is such a dramatic shift though that I am a tad uneasy.
One way I calm my nerves is preparation. If I feel I'm prepared and that I am ready for what I expect to be the unexpected (can we really prepare for the 'unexpected', otherwise isn't it expected, albeit improbable?). I am finding sources to help me, from the internet to the library, from friends to learned scholars--dead and alive. And the nerves slowly dissipate, especially as I reassure myself that failure isn't an option. Not because I am such a perfectionist, far from it in fact. Because I am human and flaw is part of my character. If I know going in I have given it my all, failure just isn't.

Granted there are varying degrees of success. And it is these higher levels of success which I first wrote about. Do my nerves really stem from not doing well or from doing too well? What if I find that I not only really enjoy this new endeavor, but also excel at it? What does that mean for the place I am currently? Can I honestly allow myself to suppress these new findings just because it is different? Boldly going where I have never gone before, at least not really. Kind of like when someone asks you if you've been to a certain state and you had a short lay-over in the main airport there, does that really count as having visited the state? That is what this feels like to me in a bizarre analogy.

The unknown is so scary. I find it interesting that I am thinking about these things just as Pesach is upon me/us. Here is my connection to my ancestors, in a very abstract way. They left Mitzrayim after a few hundred years because comfortable became too tragic to bear and someone, Moshe, gave them the push to overcome inertia. And suddenly they find themselves seemingly alone wandering the desert wondering what is next, questioning the decision to leave—oh how quickly we forget. Sure Mitzrayim was icky and all, and endless manna is nice, but what next. Once we find why we’re wandering, how do we approach it? Once I say, I am done stagnating and I flounder a bit, where do I end up? The unknown should not cause paralysis, I should not be (and will not be) held hostage by my fears. I find that this might be the ultimate in personal freedom.

Church bell

I moved into my current place in November. I instantly loved the apartment, or maybe it was the idea that once again I would have a place to call completely my own that I loved. It felt so adult, so sophisticated with hardwood floors, black and stainless-steel appliances, high ceilings with crown molding. I felt so abundant. Little things like not having any closet space (no really, I have one very small clothes closet and nothing else), and a triangular room and a bedroom with eight corners were easily overseen. I am within walking distance of an excellent Asian Bistro (called Zen), super delicious. There is a yoga studio which attracts very snooty people close by too. I can look out my window and see the mountains. There were many positives.

In my quest for deeper Jewish understanding, I knew that this home would be an experiment. No one to prevent me from keeping kosher or to give me flack when I broke down and ate a cheeseburger. Only my alarm knowing if I really got up in time to do shachrit by myself; and only the walls to know if I was close to pronouncing the words correctly. Hebrew is hard enough, let alone at 5a, after very little sleep. These things I would do, I would try and I would give myself a break because as long as I was giving it my all, I could hardly ask more of myself. Fine, dandy, I can deal. And I can deal with most any of these things--except church.

When I came to see exactly which apt I was getting, I had a sinking feeling it would be this one. I'm on the corner of the property, just as you enter. (side note, this location in a complex seems very typical for me, eerie coincidences). Across the street, just outside my west facing window is a church. A white church that is trying to decide if it is new or old. It's new construction, with an old feel. I don't quite know how to describe it. It's also trying to give a small town impression, at least based on the exterior design. Every Sunday, the streets around my home fill up with church-goers. Some are friendly, some are not; most just go un-noticed by me and me by them. I'd hear the bell and it would be a twinge, a very audible reminder that I still in Colorado, a very dominant Christian society. For a while I would try to imagine the bell being the Shabbat bell in Jerusalem, letting the population know that it was the Sabbath. Or even the Muslim call to prayer which I heard when I lived right next to the old city seemingly constantly. My attempts failed-it was a church bell. I got a little relief actually when I started to work on Sundays; I'm out of my house before the newspaper is on my doorstep. But every day I drive home and I see it. I sit outside, and I face it. I was clearly experiencing a little bitterness (ok, more than a little).

Honestly, that all changed today. As I said before, it's a small church, in a small suburb of Denver (town of a thousand churches). I don't know what size their congregation is but I can imagine, small. I was sitting outside ready through the Mishkan T'filah after work when I heard a lot of commotion. I presumed there was a function there when I drove up because I couldn't find any parking. I tried to ignore it, feeling my bitterness starting to emerge. They were just so loud. There was no way I could concentrate. Finally, I just put the sidur down and began watching all the excitement. I wish I could say that reading the sidur enlightened me and brought my guard down, but I don't think that was the case. The first thing I saw was a dove. Then a flower girl, in the most adorable white and pink dress, throwing presumably rose petals to the wind. She giggled when they came back to her face and tickled her nose. Family members and friends and all sorts of ecstatic people came flooding out the doors in sheer merriment. The bridal party formed a line for the bride and groom to walk under, just like the movies. In another scene from classic romantic movies, the couple got in a roadster and drove off into the sunset--veil waving in the wind, pop cans clanking down the street pronouncing to all the union just formed. And I was there. I don't know them, I'll probably never see them again and wouldn't recall their faces if I did. But I was there. The moment two lives merged. The moment where 1 + 1 = 1 (or infinity, depending how you look at it). I feel honored to live next to this. I hope that spring and summer are filled with weddings at this quaint little church next door. And just like that, my bitterness dissipated and gave way to appreciation.

real randomness: simplicity and happiness (and toe socks)

I love toe socks! No really, they’re amazing. When I put them on, my toes get to wiggle and worm inside them. I look down and see my toes dancing. I feel each one individually in my shoes. They come in so many colors and styles. It can be my own little secret or I can share it with people. I love toe socks. And carnations. They are so over looked as flowers. A single carnation in a vase, a simple vase says so much. Come in a variety of colors. Unpretentious, unassuming, low maintenance, and always there. The color red, I love the color red too. My kitchen has a red teapot, spoon ladle, toaster, blender, crock-pot, grill, utensil holder, potholders, dishtowels, and even tupperware. My closet has shirts, skirts, and shoes all in varying shades of red. Sheets, blankets, and towels too. I love fun words. Like onomatopoeia and alliteration. Or defenestrate and oxymoronic. Or saboteur said in a snooty faux french accent. I love lightning and rainbows. When the two come together the sum is greater than the individual parts. The crash of the lightning. Few things excited my sense quite like a thunderstorm. My ears are delighted by the loudness of the thunder. My eyes blinded by the brightness and the sudden flashes. My skin tickled as droplets of water dance on in an impromptu symphony. The air so clean and fresh renews my lungs. (And I’ve heard it smells great, but this I unfortunately have to just believe).

Why mention these things? They all make me smile, even just sitting here typing this, I smile at the mention of them all and grin at them collectively. In addition to this effect, another thread which binds them is simplicity. Surrounding myself with things that cause me to smile and recognizing the same ones are simple, I then translate this to other areas of my life. I strive to engulf myself with good-hearted people. People who when I think about them I smile and then grin when I get to see them. People who know how to make me laugh and giggle and be happy when I’m blue and when I’m not blue even more so. When I bake it brings me back to imagined simpler times. Life is so chaotic and fast paced and intense these days. It’s nice to slow down and look around and see simplicity, see things that make me smile too.

It’s nice to recognize simplicity and bring it in wherever I can because life just isn’t. Decisions are not simple, even those made on a daily basis. So I am astonished and pleased when one is easy. I walked into a furniture store today intending to buy a dinning table. I had an idea—cherry finish, pub height—with little practical structure in mind. I walked in and saw it, and knew I’d be walking out of there with it (rather, with the delivery paperwork because they will set it up for me and that’s way cool). I still walked throughout the entire store, even thought about going to another one, to do my due diligence, but I already knew. Recently I have been meeting a wide variety of people in an eclectic way (Israel, shul, work, friends of friends, etc). Some of them I am friendly with and can carry on a decent conversation. Then there are a few which stand out and who I just gravitate toward. The decision to become friends is almost non-existent and instantaneous.

In a very different context my dad once said, “if you have to force it, you’re doing it wrong.” I doubt he realizes how profound and long-lasting that statement has been for me. It’s in these moments of realization that I believe it is all really that simple and I just choose to find complexity in situations. These situations are made all the harder when something comes along and is so right, doesn’t feel forced in the least.

I can only hope that by surrounding myself with simplicity and things that make me smile, each day I will be presented with more things which fit this category. Finding a career in which the paycheck is just the reward and not the goal. Meeting that person with whom conversation flows like a waterfall and whose presence feels like a thundershower—invigorating all the senses.

I will now go and sit on my microfiber suede couch in my toe socks looking at a single carnation in a simple vase and continue writing to my heart’s content because these things make me happy.

Nine more days

My count down actually began a bit ago but as it is only next Saturday, I have been gearing up for Pesach. In so many ways I am gearing up. My coworkers and friends/family are noticing because they are on the receiving end of chametz removal in the form of baked goods. So many cookies and cupcakes and muffins have been coming out of my oven recently, it's amazing how much 10lbs of flour can make. I'm carb-loading most nights with pasta and rice; cereal every morning and for snacks. Went to the grocery store to load up on meat because that will be a staple for eight days, as will eggs. This is the original Atkins diet. I am rearranging my dishes, only slightly though because I don't have the quantity to do so fully, or the kitchen space requirements. Probably the origin of spring cleaning too.

All of these outward expressions are just that, expressions. These are the tangible activities I demonstrate in my preparation for Pesach, the majority of the transitions happening internally. I go through my heart and my soul and find the analogous chametz there. Those things which I carry around with me daily, without even thinking about it. I harbor emotions for so long that they become second nature rather than new. The act of baking is a very real reminder to think about other people. Getting my hands in the dough, kneading the bread with just enough pressure for just the right amount of time is a balance which brings my attention to other things in my life which need to balance. Patience is exampled when cookies are rising in the oven and the temptation is to check on them. Or when they finally come out to have them immediately thereby burning my mouth. Where else do I need to apply patience? Outward forces questioning my motivations--why am I doing this --only forces me to answer them for myself. Not succumbing to peer pressure to follow the crowd is a powerful activity, giving myself conviction to do what I know is right (qualifier: right for me).

On an additional level, I have to revisit why this 'holiday' exists--for the same reason I do. G-d led my (your? our?) people out of oppression and into freedom. I don't make bricks all day or plow the land or serve someone else; I don't get beat with a whip; I have plenty to eat and drink. How then can I connect to slavery? Who/what is my oppressor? What am I willing to sacrifice to get freedom? Am I ready to face the unknown, the uncertain? I feel I am better equipped to 'celebrate' once I have these questions answered. And each year I do this, I find some of the same oppressors are still with me. Similarly, I find I have new ones and have been freed from old ones.

To get a little personal, this year, I am feel like a slave to medical diagnosticians and doctors and knives. Most of the time I see a way to freedom, a new perspective is one of the best ways to get there. Control is a familiar oppressor. I should say the need for it and the actual lack of it. I feel more equipped this year than previous because faith has a surprising effect on giving up control. And one that comes and goes I am hoping will go for good this year and that is loneliness. I feel fairly confident in saying we have all felt a bit of this at some point in our lives, I certainly don't see myself as an exception. Internal happiness, friends, passions are my ways to freedom, and this year might be my year.

On a less optimistic note, what happens when freedom is obtained? Our people wandered in the desert for two generations; time enough for memories to lapse. I feel we are at the time in modern history. This year celebrates Israel's 60th year of being a Jewish state. My generation is two removed from those intimately involved in the Shoah. The unknown is scary frankly. The golden cafe was not foreseen. Perhaps in a change of fate, the return to vibrant Judaism was also unseen in the modern era. People reaching out to this tradition and inviting it into their lives. People breaking free from their personal oppressors and willing to face the uncertainty of the future. I feel more ready this year than any previous. Sort of a watch out and see what unfolds spirit.

Shabbat Shalom

Yippie! Another Shabbat. I do so enjoy this time. Earth's rotation and axes gave us days and years, the moon gave us months, but Jews/G-d gave us Shabbat. These days time to put the tv, the computer, the cell phone, the washer, the radio, all on hold. The time to slow down and breathe. It's so easy to forget to do that, and it can be scary--it's just you and your thoughts. I've learned to come and cherish this time and each week approach it with a new attitude and at the same time like I am meeting an old friend. Like a first date with a soulmate?
Just felt like being happy that it's Shabbat and I get to wait a few more days before anything is decided so I might as well enjoy this time immensely, and that is what I intend to do. I'll write more motzi shabbat I'm sure.
SHABBAT SHALOM!!!!!

I've found another passion

What a wonderful way to spend a spring day in Colorado. The morning started out like they do this time of year-with two inches of snow on the ground completely unexpectedly. The wind picked up and I was entertained by a snow-globe view outside my window (or was I really the one in the snow-globe?!). The sun peeked through the clouds long enough to cast off the winter blanket. Then as the day wore on, the clouds rolled in again, this time dark and thick. BOOM! CRASH! CLAP! Thunder rattled my windows and rain danced on the patio. The wind howled. An hour later, calm once again returned. And ever so beautifully, a rainbow came out. All this occurred over less than ten hours, all viewed from my living room window, the majestic mountains as a backdrop.
I found myself home because I needed a day off work, for many reasons, not the least of which was a mental health day. I read tehillim (specifically #28 repeatedly) and this week's parsha (tazria). I searched online for any information on the portion. I went from link to link to link. From one person's very reform and rather detached view to a strict orthodox reading. From G-d who punished to one who ignored. One common thread seemed to be how in jest authors of commentary would note how b'nai mitzvah kids rued getting this parsha because of its gruesome nature. I reveled in its study. For a few hours I did this and my appetite was barely touched. I wished I had more sources at my disposal. I wished I knew how to read/understand Hebrew more fully (ok, at all, ulpan aleph doesn't get a person very far) so that I could better come up with my own interpretations and appreciate those of learned scholars more so. I had a tremendously good time.

I find that I feel somewhat inept when doing prayer on my own, and more so when doing it with an experienced davener. The words seem to flow so easily for them, while I still trip over my chet's and tzadi's. I still find my eyes wandering to the english translation so I can glean meaning from the words which are more beautiful and spiritual in hebrew yet I lack the understanding to grasp even the most basic context. Melodies which I have never heard I struggle to adopt. My mind wishes to be a sponge, some days more saturated than others.

Though I feel a little embarrassed, I keep going, I keep trying, I keep doing. I try not to be shy about asking questions and showing the novice I really am. I cannot wait to lead services and yet am petrified at the thought of people looking to me for guidance--spiritual or practical. No, that's incorrect, not petrified. I'm scared, anticipatory, frightened, excited, giddy, hopeful.

I realized as I was studying, actually, several hours later, how during that time I didn't think of chemistry once. I have such a passion for chemistry. But honestly, I do feel the need to be paid to do it. I recognize that my current job is not ideal for me and that my passion still exists for the subject, a different application would be nice though. Ignoring the practicalities of needing to pay my rent, right now, I'd be happy to study Judaism for free. I smile (rather grin) at the idea of walking into a beit midrash and having all the seferim at my disposal. To learn Hebrew fluently and 'get-it' would be a welcome gift.
Writing the d'var torah challenged me to pull from life, from my own experiences, from teachers I've met and from those I haven't (how cool it would be to have dinner with Miamonides!). I had to get emotional and intellectual and spiritual. Granted, I didn't need any calculus or advanced math (same can be said for current job though). I didn't need to wonder about molecular interactions. Rather, I got to wonder about human interactions and about divine interactions. I'm boggled still.

It is nice to know that I have found something else which drives my passion so much that I forget the passage of time, that I take myself out of my own head and my daily life. It is such a gift to have the time to do that and to know that I have found twice what some people struggle to find ever. Now if only I can learn to accommodate both adequately. I think I am now, but a little more Jewish study would be nice. It's all a learning process.

d'var torah, parsha tazria

So I was asked to give a d'var torah at the upcoming synagogue board meeting. I was very honored to be asked for so many reasons. I am fairly new to the board and am the youngest member. Many times I have a hard time saying what I think--partially for intimidation reasons but also because I just don't know how to interrupt respectfully and I feel like I have a lack of experience. This gives me the opportunity to show something of myself to this group and to be vocal which will help facilitate more conversations I hope. Here it is, as I feel it is an interesting parsha and an interesting take and one which is very relevant to my life.

D’var Torah:

Tazria, Leviticus 12:1−13:59

Shabbat HaChodesh, April 5, 2008 / 29 Adar II, 5768

This week’s parsha is so chocked full of gruesome details dealing with issues ranging from childbirth and circumcision to skin disease and mold, it is hard to know where to begin and to see beyond the gore.

Why is a woman unclean after giving birth, and doubly-so if a girl is born? Why is clothing with marks unclean? Why is a person with a blemish unclean? What does it mean to be unclean?

When a woman has a baby, she cannot focus on much else—we have some great examples of that here recently—nor should she. It is commented that the time is double for a daughter because birth is unclean and a daughter can perpetuate that uncleanliness when she becomes a mother, so it is twice as long because there is double uncleanliness. All the mother’s energy is going to the little life that depends on her fully. She barely has time to sleep or eat, let alone devote any time to prayer.

When a piece of cloth is damaged, the wearer and observers focus on it. It becomes a sore spot, a distraction. A recent ad for clorox I think has a stain on a man’s shirt in an interview doing the talking, the prospective employer unable to pay attention to the person. The parsha also refers to material which could be mold. Anyone who’s dealt with mold on window sills or ceiling tiles or bathrooms knows what a hazard it can be. And knows it must be taken care of rather immediately.

When a person has a blemish, all attention is fixated on the spot. From small ones, like a child who can’t stop picking at a scab, to bigger ones, like a person coming out of surgery. From the acute to the chronic, ‘blemishes’ divert concentration away from holy matters.

Perhaps that is what is meant by unclean then. Not that a person or garment is dirty, unwanted, filthy but rather unfit to attend to holy activities because they are dealing with something much more pressing. So much energy is required for holy work that a person who is so tired—physically and emotionally—is exempt from participating.

How to go about becoming exempt? In the priestly days, a priest would have to come and check out the afflicted and make a verdict of clean/unclean. In some cases an answer would be delivered immediately, in other cases, seven days would have to pass, and some still, seven more. Many great philosophers were thinkers, spiritual leaders, and healers, such as Miamonides. These days, modern society has separated these roles and the authority given to the medical professionals to declare clean or unclean. This is true for emotional illness with psychiatrists as well as physical ones with doctors.

A person goes to the doctor because something unusual has appeared, or in some cases because it is time for a routine checkup. Typically there is a week or two to wait while results are being processed. Even a healthy person has at least minor concerns. Shows like ER, House, Grey’s Anatomy have filled our heads with dramatic diseases and horrific visions. This person is quiet about the tests, why spread personal paranoia when it is probably nothing? Maybe they’ll tell their spouse or close friends or rabbi. And then the verdict, unclean.

Flashback to days of old. This recently diagnosed person would have to go throughout town proclaiming themselves unclean for all the townspeople to hear. The details of how are described in the text. This was a requirement. Who derives benefit from this declaration? At first read, it appears to be adding insult to injury, causing additional shame and humiliation to fall on the already fallen. On further review, this person is crying out for help. They are required to call out for help, for all to witness.

Back to present day. The doctor has come back and said unclean. How hard it is to say “I need help”! The embarrassment and humility surrounding a disease is hard enough, makes a person want to just curl up and be left alone. If we are to follow the text though, this is not an option. By saying you must cry out, it alleviates the embarrassment. Through the continual dance between sickness and health, we cry out. This public acknowledgement is beneficial for the community as well. The community is forced not to avert their eyes. It is much easier saying ‘I did nothing because I didn’t know’ when there isn’t someone screaming their problems. It is a call to action.

A call to action for those who are fit to be holy, to do G-d’s work, to help those who are in need. The proclamation can be handed to anyone of us at any time. So while you are still clean, it is time to act. Somehow in someway. As with tzara’at, with healing blood would be placed on the right ear, right thumb, and right big toe. In doing so, priests recognized the totality of the suffering and the need for r’fuah sh’leimah—the healing of body, mind, and soul. And as it says ‘he shall be unclean as long as the disease is on him’. This means, until a person is healed, do not stop, do not neglect them. Do not let those on the outskirts of the community remain there because you did not hear their cries. So I implore you to act—if not now, when?