Crossing My Own Personal Nile

I believe truly in the idea that, while Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur are a time to cleanse ourselves from our sins, Passover is also a chance to rid ourselves of anything remaining we don’t want in our lives. Moreover, the process allows us to think about this on a material level, when we dedicate weeks and weeks to cleaning our house, ridding every crevice from the bits of crumbs that had gathered over the last year. What is it that I want to rid of this year, and how do I make this real?

I’ve been met with a number of challenges over the last few months- everything from the seemingly endless process of breaking into a community I identify with and building real connections, having needed to deal with a bed bug infestation last month, and being disregarded and diminished at work. My personal Nile River I had to cross was filled with strong waves that pushed me down and made it hard to get back up.

But a community named Asiyah helped part those waves- a community that encourages spiritual reflection, that doesn’t include all of the traditional prayers but ones that help identify with very real experiences, that just gives off a vibe of “realness.” The Israeli dancing that I recently joined and meets at MIT on Wednesday nights helped push me across the fighting seas, where a combination of learning dance moves, getting together with random partners, and occasional mingling with the 20’s and 30’s crowd- and older folks as well- helped take my mind off my personal challenges. An occasional “Thursday Night Tisch” at a friend’s house lifts my spirits, and approximate bi-monthly “Niggun Saloon” allows me to feel and be without needing to talk, and without being judged.

What do I want to rid of this Passover? Of being made to feel that my ideas don’t count- I’m currently job searching for a farm-related role, which I believe will help me feel happy and fulfilled once again. Of the horrible feeling I experienced when forced to move out of my apartment due to the bed bug infestation- of feeling unstable during and after this incident, that ultimately led to my recognizing my need for a real change in my life. Of the superficiality and small talk that arises at Shabbat meals. (I've recently stopped hosting, trying to find other ways to make Shabbat, or my life meaningful. Sometimes that means keeping Shabbat, and other times it doesn't.)

I’m so grateful for these communities that I have found. I hope I can continue to peel the layers of bread- of superficiality- to find the matzot that show their true selves among the waves of loneliness I had experienced these last months. And I think I’m going in the right direction.

                                           

Making A Better Life

I've been feeling sorry for myself these last few months- I knew this was a pattern, that, as winter hit, so did my mood, in the negative direction. Something about the cold days and the sky getting dark at an early hour causes my mood- along with many others I’m sure- to drop into depression.

As 2017 passed and 2018 arrived, I wanted to do something that would perhaps raise my spirits. I started going to the gym, wanting to use up my membership before it expired.  Should I renew my subscription? I asked my mom, considering I only went to the gym about four times in the past year. No, she said, unless you think you will really push yourself. I decided to renew and since then have been going to the gym 3 times a week for at least an hour. As a result, I’ve been feeling better about myself. In the past, I would blame my lack of going on it being too cold, my being too busy. But now I make it a point to go at least 2 or 3 times a week.

In addition, I had a conversation with a fellow community member about her work at Big Brother Big Sister, an organization that pairs a “Big,” a mentor, with a “Little,” a child. About a month later I applied to become a Big, and have since then had an interview and am waiting on reference checks before I start being matched up with a little girl aged 7-12.

Last week I volunteered with a couple of friends at a homeless shelter. I didn’t feel like I did much, honestly, but could tell the people who were left in charge of the shelter that evening really appreciated my help.

I don’t know if it’s been mostly exhaustion, or laziness, or the cold weather- or all three equally, that has made me want to stay inside rather than endure the hassle of getting bundled up with gloves, a scarf, a hat, boots, and jacket and going outside only to remove this winter gear as soon as I get to my destination. But I know that when I do make the effort, I feel better about myself. And when doing so in order to help other people, it certainly lifts my spirits and gives me the social push I need to feel good long after.

Grace VanderWaal- A True Rising Star

One year ago a 12-year-old stepped out on the stage to audition as a singer, songwriter, and ukulele player for America’s Got Talent. Wearing a navy blue top over a long white collared button-down, yellow tight-fitting jeans and flats, Grace VanderWaal wowed the crowd with her talent, earning her the golden buzzer. Just a few months later, Grace was crowned the winner of AGT, winning $1 million. Since then, the almost-14-year-old came out with an Extended Playlist, a full-length album, and has won multiple awards for her talent. Most recently she was seen on stage at Billboard's Women in Music 2017, winning the honor of Rising Star. At 13 ½, Grace is the youngest person to have received this award, among many others, including Radio Disney Music Awards and Teen Choice Award.

Those who know me, know that I am not a big celebrity follower- I once worked as a writer for a gossip column, but that was really my entry into the celebrity world, and probably my last exit when I left after a few months. Every now and then I will check in with the celebrity world and find a character I connect to, like Emma Watson, or Dakota Fanning, or a celebrity couple like Miranda Lambert and Blake Shelton (I was pretty upset when they broke it off).

So Grace- there is something about her that I connect to. I liked her instantly when I saw her first audition on America’s Got Talent. A pre-teen who wrote her own song, taught herself to play the ukulele, and- according to her music- would act as the person she was, rather than what people wanted her to be- and to share that with the world… that was admirable. Grace made it through to the live shows, and finally, won the million dollar prize.

The thing about Grace- she’s different than other rising stars- her voice is raspy. She has a very easygoing personality (as per interviews and live feeds with her fans). She is quite modest in her dress. And her songs are about life- about society, about bullying, about friends, about being your true self. I don’t find that with many other singers. Many artists sing about love and breakups. Every now and then a song will come on depicting other life struggles. But Grace, in her writing, is unique. She is admirable. And that’s why I am so proud. 

With Grace as a rising star, I feel like our world is changing- one doesn’t need the typical voice of an angel, or to wear particularly revealing clothing, or have a loud, outgoing personality to be loved by America. It seems our society is more open to different types of singers and personalities. And Grace’s openness and growing fame with her out-of-the-box personality and style- is what I believe makes Grace VanderWaal a true rising star.

Feeling Shabbat in Vermont

A few weeks ago I went to Vermont on a Shabbaton with a group of folks from Moishe House in Cambridge. I’ve been looking to get away for Shabbat, my weeks stressful not just from preschool but from co-workers with strong personalities, their years of experience clouding their vision for ideas that differ than theirs (more on that in another post).

When I saw the posting for the retreat, I inquired and found out we would be spending Shabbat at Big Bear’s Lodge in Dover, with a trip apple picking that Sunday. I didn’t know the level of Shabbat observance (although they had insisted the food would be Kosher), and realized that in order to make it I would need to leave at a time that would have me riding in a car after Shabbat began. As per previous posts, I’d become lax in my Shabbat observance, in lieu of getting out and connecting with others. Being in an area of Cambridge that is relatively far from synagogues and Jewish community, I was looking for a way to connect with others that would help de-stress from work and the week.

After arriving at the Moishe House and helping to load up the car, we were off. The ride was smooth, yet crowded. Upon arrival within a few short hours, we unloaded our belongings and set up for Shabbat. Some folks had already arrived, and the last group was due to arrive shortly.

The weekend was filled with activities ranging from playing games to taking walks to relaxing in the spa just out on the patio. It was luxurious. The 3-story house belonged to a lawyer who frequently rented his place to a group such as us- we were greeted with clean towels, a beautiful home with a foosball table and hot tub, and the sounds of crickets at night and birds in the morning.

In addition to Kiddush and Motzi, a couple of philosophical conversations created a more Shabbat atmosphere. Much of the time was spent by the non Shomer-Shabbat participating in more secular activities- spending time on their phones, schmoozing in the hot tub, taking selfies with the red, yellow, orange, and brown trees surrounding us, yet the Shabbat atmosphere- the feeling of calmness- was obvious and present.

The weekend with Moishe House reminded me of a couple of years ago when I was in Detroit for a good friend’s wedding. Aside from the very different experience (the Detroit wedding consisting of mingling with the family and friends of the bride in a shomer Shabbat atmosphere, verses Vermont, with new friends in the Shabbat observance more relaxed), this weekend with Moishe House featured an array of activities for participants. However, at some points I decided I needed time for myself, to sleep instead of participating in the group discussion, to go on a walk on my own instead of with the group. And just as I did this without guilt in Detroit- the first time I truly accepted myself for needing this time and space- I allowed myself to do this here as well. My insistence on staying at the house instead of joining the others for a hike was met with confusion and concern, yet I assured this young woman who had invited me that I was doing something for me, not due to something that “happened.”

It was a beautiful weekend. At times I felt I was surrounded by a group of fast-paced folks with more of a desire to take selfies than live in the moment; to talk to fill up space rather than just *be;* and at times I did feel overwhelmed. But- without feeling guilty, I took care of myself while connecting with others when I was ready. And this made the weekend in Vermont wonderful. And perhaps allows for further connection with these folks in the future.

Inclusiveness- But To Whom?

Several months ago I read an article someone wrote, emphasizing that while people are fighting and protesting for inclusiveness of their favored racial and minority groups- such as the black community and Muslims- they are being exclusive of the “less” vulnerable groups who do not necessarily target these minorities.

During a Pride Parade this past February, Black Lives Matters stated they did not want police acting as protectors due to recent racial discrimination. But by excluding police officers from this parade- ones meant to protect the very people who would participate- what happens to the idea of our society becoming one that is inclusive to all races, genders and orientations?

I experience something similar as a Jewish individual who keeps Shabbat and Kosher at home (although wavering in the more recent past on an individual level, my home remains in “Shabbat mode” from sundown on Friday through nightfall on Saturday, and my kitchen remains Kosher because I believe this should be accessible to those more observant). The one time I attended a Moishe Kavod House Shabbat dinner in Jamaica Plan, I was unable to eat anything other than the tofu pot-luck item I brought and a small box of black-and-white cookies. Everything else was marked as “vegetarian” but not “hechshered" (an acceptable level of Kashrut accepted by Orthodox communities).

I felt the same way when I was invited to a recent Sukkot event open to everyone who had ever participated on an Adamah Fellowship or a season at Teva (two separate farming/ environmental educational programs at the Isabella Freeman in Connecticut). This was a pot-luck style meal where people were encouraged to bring their own dish. But in the email invitation there was no mention of hechshered” verses “non-hechshered” items. I decided not to go, based on my knowledge that, at least from my year on Adamah, most of the fellows were not shomer Shabbat and Kashrut, and therefore the dishes in which I can partake would be limited.

So when a community- such as Moishe Kavod and the Isabella Freedman- boasts about being inclusive, what does that really mean? Inclusive to whom? There seems to be a tendency in a pluralistic society or community to encourage folks to feel comfortable- whereas this really means not feeling pressured to comply with Shabbat or traditional laws, rather than not feeling pressured to comply with the non-traditional laws. So how do we become inclusive to the Orthodox individuals as well as the more secular-identified? How do we broaden the term “inclusiveness” to expand to the religious and non-religious? How do we make everyone feel comfortable, rather than just those who have fewer religious experiences?               
                                                                                           

              

                                

Finding Connection- Off the Derech

I’ve been here for just over a year. Connecting with others in the Jewish community hasn’t been easy. I’ve gone to Netivot dinners; ice cream socials for the 20’s and 30’s sponsored by the local Temple Beth Shalom synagogue; Shabbat Lunch and Learns at Harvard Hillel; I’ve both hosted and gone out to meals. But connections have gone no further than these events and activities, and often I end up asking people’s names and a recap of their occupation, and them mine. With perhaps some additional bits to the conversation, we part and if I see them again it’s the same cycle.

Temple Beth Shalom in Cambridge

Perhaps I’m searching too deeply for something that doesn’t exist. Perhaps I should be satisfied with these interactions that can simply go no further than an every-now-and-then Shabbat meal. 

Someone close to me recently suggested that I allow myself to experience the superficiality of these conversations and accept the loneliness when the conversations end. But I don’t want to live a lonely life. People are not meant to be alone- and certainly not me.

So why is it taking so long to connect?

I mourned over the possibility of living with loneliness, and then something else came to mind. I remembered researching online Meetup events in the past and finding a bar that holds Queeraoke night once a week. The night following this conversation I got dressed and headed out to Midway Café in Jamaica Plain. I met some folks and ended up spending much of the night with a girl, dancing and hooking up. I felt connected and on a high.

The following week I joined a running group. We ran 3 miles, beginning from the Davis train station and up to Alewife Brook Parkway. The endorphins kicked in after the run and I went back the following week.

I’ve even taken the T on frequent Friday nights to ImprovBoston for a comedy lineup, a women’s night, a mainstage show. And I’ve genuinely enjoyed myself, interacting with the bartender, buying a cider, and feeling a general sense of relief and release.

Needless to say, I'm not feeling the spiritual calling that the Jewish New Year- coming up in just a couple of days- is supposed to bring- the desire for a connection to G-d, to our faith. Maybe keeping myself limited to the Jewish community was a mistake- I enjoy meeting people of other backgrounds and perhaps with more appearances at these runs, at Queeraoke night, at ImprovBoston I can establish more concrete relationships. Or at least enjoy myself, in the short term. At least for now.

Reflections As A Teacher- One Year Later

I’m coming up to my one year anniversary as a teacher at Alef Bet (and as a Boston resident). It is remarkable to see how much has changed, and how much the children have grown. There have been a lot of changes in the Bet class this year- we started out with 7 children, and now we have 9, though only 3 of whom were here since the very beginning. Some children left to go to a different school, some have moved up from the Alef class (aged 15 months- 2.8 years), and others have returned to their home country. Nonetheless, there has been an obvious amount of growth in all the children.

The other day, a child asked me if I knew who moved his shoes before rest-time. The children remove their shoes and place them on a cabinet in a line, usually focusing on where they put their shoes, whether it be in the middle, on the side, or next to a particular friend’s shoes. I told the child I didn’t know who moved his shoes. “I’m gonna go ask people who moved my shoes so I know who to be mad at.” I tried to hold in a chuckle while I responded to the child. “I’m sure whoever moved your shoes didn’t want to be mean, they were probably just looking for some space for their shoes.” But there were several steps of development that went into this comment. First was the recollection of where the child put his shoes. Second was the realization that someone had moved the shoes. Third was the speech that the child used- not only did he say he was going to ask who moved his shoes, but claimed he was going to be “mad” at the person who moved his shoes. He was aware of his emotional state and was able to articulate it.

Another child- a former Alef student- accidentally scratched another student on one occasion. When the affected student cried out, the one who scratched her asked, “Are you okay?” as per suggestions by the teachers to check in with a friend when they are hurt. When the child said no, the “scratcher” asked, “How many kisses?” As in, “How many kisses should I give your scratch so that it feels better?” This is something modeled by the teachers- actually something I myself learned from my coworker- that depending on how bad the injury was, the child can decide how many kisses it needs to make it feel better. The child who had done the scratching in the beginning of the year did not use to acknowledge her friends- I didn’t know know whether this was because she did not understand her responsibility in this act or whether she simply refused to do so. This same girl also did not articulate well and was often (and sometimes still is) difficult to understand. But I watched wide-eyed as she fully acknowledged her peer and offered kisses.

I love the work that I do, but I sometimes question whether my role as a preschool teacher is easy and insignificant, compared to my peers’ line of work- my roommate who just finished an internship at an office that specializes in health care policy; a peer who works as a software developer at a high-tech company; a friend who works as a professor at MIT. But then I see the complex towers made in the block area; the many various letters created by children in the play dough area; or a child says or does something that represents a major breakthrough in their development. And that is a big deal, both in the eyes of us, their teachers, and their parents. I’ve been told on multiple occasions that a child comes home describing the things they have learned, or that we have done in class- a child who asks his mom for some coins to put in the tzedakah box (charity); a mom who comes in beaming, blown away by how much her daughter knows about the Passover story. Sometimes it takes some time to reflect on these comments. But it makes me proud to realize that indeed, my children have come very far, and this is much due to my efforts- often working through sweat and tears- as a teacher at Alef Bet.