For the past few weeks I haven’t spent much time online. My Facebook feed has basically turned into, to take a turn of phrase from Pop Chassid, Israelbook. I cannot go on there without being absolutely bombarded with articles, clips, memes, infographics, etc., about the current sad state of affairs.
Of course, I have the luxury of just not opening my computer. My friends and fellow Jews in Israel do not have the luxury of avoiding bombardment. From actual bombs. That is their life right now (and, in some areas, has been their lives for the past eight years. Wow, so glad we gave up Gaza for peace! That land for peace thing really worked out well!).
Israelis may not be so interested in what the Wall Street Journal or the New York Times or any of the various media sources have to say about this latest escalation. They probably just want it to stop, and for all our soldiers to be able to come home.
We were on vacation for the last ten or so days, visiting my parents, doing what I consider to be an American tradition: The cross-country road trip. It was very refreshing. So much so that even though my re-emergence into normal life included a Motzei Shabbos clean-up involving one area rug, a blanket, a pillowcase, a pair of little shoes and three rooms’ hardwood floors from two different potty-training accidents (yes, both kinds of accidents), I’m still smiling.
The first thing I did was cry when I heard the heart wrenching news that the three kidnapped boys in Israel were not just kidnapped, but murdered. Almost the next thing I did was get off of Facebook. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to comment, I didn’t want to read comments or links to articles. I just wanted to ignore it, to not feel the pain. But how can I not feel the pain when practically the whole Jewish people are weeping? It’s not possible.
We all have different reactions to tragedy. Some of us get angry and cry for revenge. Some of us are unable to stop crying. Some wonder how to tell our children. We may be feeling different things, but we are all feeling together.
Together is something that seems to crop up a lot during times of crisis. And as a people, we are good at banding together when we need to. It seems like that it’s a common refrain at sad, tense times: That we are united, and what a shame it is that it always takes a crisis to unite us.
Tonight I’ll be on stage. Along with two other accomplished musicians, I’ll be performing classical and klezmer pieces. G-d willing, it’s going to be fabulous. But it almost wouldn’t have happened for me. I almost gave up solo performing entirely. Continue reading
It’s very tempting to let autocorrect do its thing. I’m typing this on my phone, as my computer has been very out of commission since Tuesday.
There’s been a call to apple support, the purchase of an external hard drive (a very overdue purchase, honestly. You should all go out and get one of those right now if you haven’t already) and there will be backing up of data and reinstallation of software in the near future. G-d willing, that will solve the problem.
Until them, I’ve been tortured by making the most of my no-laptop life. And after all this time, I thought I’d give you a little update on what was going on. Because, you know, I’m sure you were all wondering.
But typing on my phone is very tedious, and I’m tempted to not go back and correct the many mistakes that happen when typing only with one’s thumbs. It’s only the type-A in me that’s making this post intelligible.
I’m hoping to post soon about all the brilliant insights and deep metaphors I’m having through this experience. Until then, enjoy the start of your summer and, if you want a challenge, meditate on what I really meant by this:
If you’ve been wondering what to read this Shavuos, perhaps you should try the Mountain Family. The subtitle is “An Appalachian Family of Twelve – and their fascinating journey to Judaism.” Yes, that’s right. A family of twelve. That’s ten kids, and they all converted to Judaism.
Can you imagine? To say that’s not typical, is, well, you know. Obvious.
“Now that I have three [kids] I have no idea how you look put together, write blog posts, practice music, buy groceries, eat, sleep, drink, etc. Any tips?”
What a nice message to receive! My ego got a sorely needed boost. What’s that, you say? Well, most of the time, when I think of my life, I see a list of things that still need to be done, or that I could do better. These are the types of things I will notice and dwell on:Continue reading