Close Mine Eyes

bs'd

Crown Heights in August.

It's muggy and humid with just the right amount of green to make it bearable.

~~~~

We're sitting on the porch swing.

Bubby swings with her feet in those sturdy black shoes from Israel.
The ones she says are "the best".

She thinks they're from Tsfat and calls my aunt who lives there to send her a new pair every not-so-often.
Little does she know my aunt needs to shlep all the way to Yerushalayim or Bnei Brak to buy them.
She never told her.

~~~~

Bubby swings us.
Forward, backward.

Then sideways.
Side to side to side.
Forward, then sideways.
She looks at me.


"Which way do you like better?"

:)

She laughs.

Bubby has the best laugh.

blink

We've never met
And may never again

Yet we sway to the same tune
And sing to the same song

And dance with eyes open, closed

I'm in a huge stadium surrounded on all sides by fellow Jewish maidens
Music is so unifying
It breaks down all barriers with people like language or opinion

Arms wrapped around strangers, sisters

Avremel steps out on the field.
No music
Just one voice
"Lama lama ma, nikra..."
Hundreds of thousands of voices
"...Moriah, al shem hamor hatov al shem hamor hatov..."


Totally overwhelmed by the sweet voices
And sweet words
In this holy land flowing with sweetness


All alone


Just a soul in a sea of souls
Crying
Just standing and listening and watching and swaying back and forth and back and forth



I love my people



It was a taste of moshiach
see you there


:)

Today I woke up.

Raindrops are falling.


The rain pitters and patters.
Cozy.
So cozy.
Warm and toasty.


It's hard to get up on days like these.

Hard to work.
Hard to be proactive.
Hard to make decisions.
Hard to make plans.
Hard to be inspired.

~~~

Makes me think how some people have rainy lives.

And keep waiting for the weather of their lives to clear up.


Keep waiting for the rain to stop...
The skies to clear...
The sun to come out...

Then I'll get up.
Then I'll get on with life.
Then I'll start to live.


Till then they just curl up in bed with a hot cocoa and a good book.
Just waiting for a better day.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Till the cocoa ain't so hot.
And the book lost its charm.
So sad.

~~~

Sometimes the rains can last for quite some time.
And if they do, paint your walls yellow.
Invite all the happy people over to your place.
Plant flowers that grow well with rain.
Buy bright umbrellas and silly boots.
Play songs that make the heart laugh.


Choose life.

Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life. Choose life.


Choose.
type it enough times and it starts to look funny.
choose.
choose.
choose.
like kaboose.
hehe.

Perspective

In the little synagogue near the big park we would meet.

Every Monday night at six.

A 24 year old chabadnikah with a 60 year old Jewess.

The two of us were meant to share an hour together, every Monday night for two years, with the purpose of studying Torah.
Although I must admit she was more interested in hearing about the goings on of my life than the portion of the week.
Every time I tried teaching the holy words she would interrupt me with yet another question: On life.
And family.
And work.
And love.

Love.
Alas the older woman seemed to be lacking in this precious resource.
Story after story emerged of her failed marriage, her failed mother daughter relationships, her failed self worth and failed feelings of accomplishment.

As time wore on it seemed she began to live vicariously through the life of her Monday night other.
My days were hers and she looked forward to each one.

~~~~~

It was a night like any other.

The Torah lesson from the week before had revolved around the exciting prospect of my pending date with an anonymous young gentleman.

We had discussed the whole shidduch system (no - we're not set up from birth, no - we don't have to marry if we don't want...) and what I should wear, say, do, etc.
She made me promise a full report on my return this week.

I had returned.
And alas, the report was no good.

She walked into the shul.
Or should I say ran.
I've never her seen her so ecstatic...

she: HOW WAS IT????
me: There's nothing to be excited about.

she: Tell me all about it!!!
me: There's nothing to tell, it didn't work out.

she: I'm so happy for you!!!! (huge smile)
me: (getting frustrated) What don't you understand? There's nothing to be happy about...I didn't like him.

she: It doesn't matter whether or not the date went well....

You went out...

You're young...

You're alive!
You're dating!!!

I'm so happy for you.

~~~~~~

I left that Monday night in an infinitely better mood.
With a whole new appreciation for the small things in life.
The ones that should leave us up rather than down.

Thanks E.

absence makes the heart grow fonder

the sky this morning is covered by clouds

i sit on bubby's porch
the only ones awake at this wee hour are the ultra pious, the ultra responsible and the housekeepers
i love jetlag the kind that makes me wake up with the sun

only today there is no sun.
just clouds

i can remember the first conscious time i flew in a plane on a cloudy cloudy day

it was cold
and gray
and sad
in may

and we rose above the clouds on wings through pillows of moisture

when suddenly there was the sun
shining
shining so so brightly
and it hit that young pigtailed, brown haired, brown eyed child

the sun was there all along

it is always shining
whether we see it or not
come snow come storm
come wind come clouds
come sadness come heartbreak

come home


i like this lesson

:)

Dedicated to Sabra

We missed the last bus from tverya so we hailed a taxi.
Still haven't figured out the difference between arab and secular israeli drivers.
This one is no exception.
Warily, we enter the vehicle.
Your name?
Avi.
From Jerusalem.

Smiles all around.

Avi is in a mood that is not good.
And we are in his car.
So he begins to speak.
Angry.
Sad.
Of Israel and it's government.
Of soldiers and hands tied and world opinion and America and money.
Of us and our cozy lives far from the violence.

He mourns aloud for twenty minutes or so.
Then all is silent.

So what is the solution?

Avi doesn't skip a beat...
Moshiach.
Of course.
There is no other answer.
(hand on head) I may not wear a kippah, but I believe...

Walla.
:)
I love my people.