5...4...3...2...1...!!

On this eve of 2012, it's hard to avoid reflecting on all of the decisions of the past year....not just resolutions that weren't kept, but all kinds of choices and the ramifications of them, as they blossomed or fell apart over the course of 2011.

Lots of good things....lots of things that could have been good, but weren't....lots of things that could have been worse than they were....Disappointments, striving, expectations - both met and thwarted, and some joy (not enough).

Looking forward to 2012 makes me think about my post back in August on making resolutions (http://decidealready.blogspot.com/2011/08/making-list.html). It is indeed time to make the To-Do list for the first week of January, with high hopes for continuing it long past that cynical deadline. There's no reason resolutions can't last! People DO make resolutions that take root and sprout and end up being real life decisions. It just takes more resolve.

Is it better to set "reasonable" goals that you know you can accomplish, or set goals that exceed the given expectations in the hopes of pushing yourself further? Reasonable goals imply greater success in completing them, and less risk of disappointment. Ambitious goals imply accomplishing more than would be possible with lesser expectations. The risk in aiming for the reasonable is that you may accomplish less than you could. The risk in aiming for the unreasonable is that if you don't succeed in doing everything, you may fail to do anything.

Not surprisingly, I'm in favor of the ambitious goals. But with a caveat, to protect against the risk of accomplishing nothing: I try to safeguard my own decisions, so that if I do not meet the ambitious goals (and rarely do I), then at least I can achieve my "minimums."

For example: Once upon a time, a friend and I would learn for an hour before our regularly scheduled day. We set up a schedule of meeting 3x/week, knowing that we were unlikely to meet our goal. Both of us were (of course) sleep-deprived, and many a day, one would call the other at the crack of dawn, mumbling: "Tomorrow..." So we rarely met three times in one week, but we often met twice, and at the very worst, once. Whereas if we'd planned on twice a week, we would have likely fallen to once a week, or no session at all. This way, we kept at it...

I developed this approach in recognition of busy-ness and interferences and human frailty (and stupidity). The Sages of old did the same in establishing candlelighting for the Jewish Sabbath eighteen minutes before the earliest potential point of sunset. That is, the law states that igniting the candle's wick must be done prior to the actual Sabbath, when using fire is prohibited. Rather than assume people are perfect, eighteen minutes provided a cushion - a "fence" in the classical language - to insure that even those who were rushing around with last-minute preparations (and most people usually are) would manage to light before the fatal moment.

So too, I discovered that with anything I want to do often, I do well to make fences for myself. Whether in frequency, amount, or deed, I know I do more when I plan more than I would if I settled for less. Thus: planning anything for every day makes it more likely that I'll manage 5x/week, or at the very least, I establish a serious routine; doing 100 sit-ups means that even if I flop out before completing them, the odds are good I'll hit 75; and with many projects to tackle each day/week/month...I accomplish more by aiming for them than I would be throwing my hands up in overwhelmed defeat at doing them all.

I'm not suggesting this approach works for everyone. Maybe nobody will find it useful but me....But it has long been one I have touted, though I've forgotten it of late...and in not setting ambitious goals, I may have fallen into the abyss of setting (nearly) none at all.

Here's to many ambitious goals for 2012!

Sanctifying the Mundane and the Profane

Assimilation, Isolation, or the Challenging In-Between? Can you choose?

Of Noah's three sons (yes, the famous Noah with the ark), the Jewish people are said to be descended from Shem (hence, "Semite"). The Greeks are said to be descended from his brother Japheth (Yefet), because one of Japheth's sons was named Yavan, which is Hebrew for "Greek."

The traditional Jewish interpretation of Greek culture is that it was devoted to beauty - to physical loveliness. This position is fundamentally an understanding of the biblical verse:

יפת אלוקים ליפת  

Translated by the King James version of the Bible, the text reads, "God shall enlarge Japheth" - with the presumption that the topic is territory. Read phonetically, however, the words are: "Yaft Elokhim le-Yefet," and the Hebrew word for beauty is "yofi." Thus, a translation that is perhaps too literal for the standard biblical context (Noah blessing his sons), but paves the way to creative and beautiful (!) interpretations could be: "God will give beauty to Japheth" (in which case, the father's blessing to his son is for physical attractiveness (or "pulchritude," surely the ugliest word ever to mean beauty). Noah goes on to bless Shem, continuing the verse: "he [Japheth] will dwell in the tents of Shem" - which in turn deserves myriad interpretations, but at the very least suggests that some connection between the traits of Shem and Japheth is possible.

The traditional Jewish criticism of the ancient Greek culture was indeed against the perceived focus on the physical instead of the spiritual, on the body instead of the soul, on appearance instead of actions....basically, on the superficial instead of on the depths.

The irony of this view is not that finger-pointing criticism against modern materialism in the Jewish community might be legitimately levied. The irony of this view is that an essential component of Jewish spirituality (though someone will always disagree) is beauty. Fulfilling the commandments to the extent possible - with the beautification of the physical objects of any mitzvah - is a cardinal principal. Thus, some people spend a great deal of money to have beautiful candlesticks for the Sabbath. Some people make sure to find as nearly perfect an etrog (citron) as possible. And nearly everybody lights lots of candles on Chanukah.

The basic requirement for Chanukah candles is one candle for each household for each of the eight days of the holiday. The better way to do it, however, prescribed one candle for every member of each household for each of the eight days of the holiday. But the best way to do it, and this is the way anyone is not under duress lights Chanukah candles in the modern era, is that every member of each household (some complications regarding married couples, and possibly girls, but leaving that aside - every member of each household) is to light the number of candles that represents the specific day of Chanukah each of the eight nights. Thus, one candle (plus shamash - the lighter) on the first night. Two candles (plus shamash) on the second night. Three on the third, and so on. This practice is labled: "mehadrin min ha-mehadrin" - glorifying the glorification. Making the candles more beautiful. So the very mitzvah that commemorates surviving the warring oppressors and the imposition of their culture of the physical makes sure to extol the miracle using beauty.

My own hiddur - beautification - of my Chanukah candles began in imitation of a friend's creation because it was clever and convenient. I had wanted to light oil, instead of wax candles, in commemoration of the miracle of oil. But the year before I started following in my friend's footsteps, I found the small glass jugs to hold the oil very messy and unwieldy, and besides, some broke. His solution: shot glasses. He filled them nearly full with water, topped them off with olive oil, and used floating wicks to provide flames. Convenient, because there was no fiddling and nearly no mess. Clever, because he used university shot glasses, which seemed to take the Greek culture of academic learning and sanctify it in the service of the holiday that commemorates victory against the Greeks. I loved it, and to this day (well, yesterday), I light university shot glasses if I'm at home.

False Pretenses: Lit Wednesday Morning for Photo Op

As for my question at the beginning - it merits further discussion, surely. Still, the bottom line is that it is far easier to allow yourself to be swallowed by the prevailing culture (it may done even unwittingly!)...and far easier to allow yourself to shun all elements of the prevailing culture...than it is to embrace both, and use each to enhance the other, which - if you ask me - is essentially, fundamentally, truly sanctifying the entire enterprise...bringing the beauty of Yefet to the tents of Shem.

PS: It's now post-Chanukah in Jerusalem - not the proper timing of this post. For all you in later time zones, enjoy the last few hours of the holiday!

Hellenization, Anyone?

University students at universities that support fraternities and sororities think "going Greek" refers to joining the on-campus organizations that function as selective clubs (ironically, "fraternity" and "sorority" come from Latin, but since these clubs are commonly named with Greek letters, the pledges join the "Greeks"). A recent (okay, not that recent) movie capitalized on this culture. Er...apparently the expression is also used in such an utterly crass way that I simply cannot link to the slang - let it be known that I had no idea of this until I googled for the link to the movie (and let me recommend against you looking for it!).

Back in the day (around 167 C.E.), however, the Jews living in the Land of Israel were forced to choose between "becoming Greek" and letting themselves be killed. The death option meant no desecrating the religious commandments. Those willing to relinquish their traditions and their beliefs were permitted to be "hellenized" - to assimilate into the Greek culture and forget their Jewish heritage. Shifting focus to the physical and material (think about the Greek focus on the body, architecture, the pantheon of Greek gods...). The lack of choice in this choice led to war - anyone surprised?

The Jews' battled for the right to rule themselves and free themselves from the oppressor (known in traditional circles not as Antiochus Epiphanes (his name), but Antiochus Epimanes (Antiochus the Madman)). That's the lesser told story of Chanukah. It's not as glamorous as the miracle of one flask of oil that should have lit the Temple's menorah for only one day instead lasting the eight days that it took to produce more olive oil. Or alternatively, the miracle of finding any unblemished oil at all, given the rampant desecration of the Holy Temple by the Greeks.

The prayers of the week (fine: 8 days) focus on the military victory, however. The Jews were the underdog, and they prevailed against the mighty Greek army, chariots and all. Megillat Hashmonaim recounts the struggle in vivid detail, and the Apocryphal Books of Maccabees (I, II and IV especially) present the history of the Jewish rebellion against all odds. Excellent reason for thanksgiving.

Perhaps only the famous talmudic question: "Mai Chanukah?" (Shabbat 21b) brought fame to the tiny flask of oil. A military victory doesn't feel like a religious salvation, after all. Thus, the Aramaic question is understood to mean "on the occasion of what miracle was Chanukah established," and with the miracle of the flask of oil, the reason for the holiday as we know it today took hold.

מאי חנוכה דתנו רבנן בכ"ה בכסליו יומי דחנוכה תמניא אינון דלא למספד בהון ודלא להתענות בהון שכשנכנסו יוונים להיכל טמאו כל השמנים שבהיכל וכשגברה מלכות בית חשמונאי ונצחום בדקו ולא מצאו אלא פך אחד של שמן שהיה מונח בחותמו של כהן גדול ולא היה בו אלא להדליק יום אחד נעשה בו נס והדליקו ממנו שמונה ימים לשנה אחרת קבעום ועשאום ימים טובים בהלל והודאה

In the words of my father's rendition of the miracle of Chanukah (having heard this every night of Chanukah for many years of childhood, I think I can recall the words with precision): "IT KEPT ON BURNING!" The flame-that-didn't-go-out is magical to a child's imagination and miraculous to an adult's celebration of the holiday.

       

As reluctant as I am to sound preachy, I would just like to note that the choice to stay Jewish was literally a matter of life or death. Surely, the war that was fought for the sake of being able to choose to observe is worthy of notice among all the candles.

         

....And if you already pay more attention to the military victory, please don't forget the religious significance of the re-dedication of the spiritual center that affirmed the freedom to observe (or not, as the case may be).

Quick: Naughty or Nice?

If you could be only naughty or only nice, which would you choose? I know, I know - the obvious answer is nice. But most people are naughty at least sometimes. How much fun would it be to have license to be naughty? It wouldn't make the world a better place...but it could be fun, dontcha think? At least now and again? (Okay, that's not ONLY naughty or nice - you're right, you caught me, so what?)

What would you do if you had that carte blanche to be naughty? If you had no fear of repercussions or reprisals? If nobody would be hurt by your actions...at least not for real? Before you tell me that you want no naughtiness ever, let's remember that the frowned-upon rebellion and defiance and simply giving in to the inclination for mischief often yields "the greater good" - and a whole lot of potential fun.

Alternatively, if you have no impulse to be naughty ever, what do you do to be nice? Why do you like being nice? Are you duty-bound? Do you take pleasure in doing the nice thing?  It's a no-brainer that being nice makes the world a more pleasant place. Or maybe you just want treats in your Christmas stocking instead of coal?

I grew up in a home with three fireplaces, but never once were they decorated with stockings for treats or coal. Santa was never invited down any of the chimneys. No tree, no tinsel, no caroling (though we knew all the words, from school and the radio). No ham or goose or plum pudding or ancient fruit cake (not something I ever missed, truth be told).

So we also were never admonished to a fear of coal in the stockings that were never hung up. But there's something fundamental about taking a moment to reflect on the past year and think about whether you've been "naughty" or nice" - it seems to be a universal human need for seasonal reflection, though the seasons differ across cultures, of course. We force ourselves to pay attention to the year that has passed - to note the good deeds, the ones that need improvement and maybe atonement....and to establish resolutions for the coming year (oh, wait, that's next week!).

Sitting in Jerusalem on Christmas Eve is uncommon, I think, among Christmas Eve experiences across the world. Christmas is not in the air. Not anywhere. Well, actually, that's an exaggeration - go to Bethlehem or the Church of the Holy Sepulchre or the Via Dolorosa and Christmas is holy. Those last two are surely more important for Easter, but special Christmas mass draws many visitors. Truth be told, I've never been to either, but back in the days when the road to Gush Etzion passed through Bethlehem, I did travel it once on Christmas Eve. The road was lit with festive lights, just as most of the United States and Europe enters Christmas mode. Somehow, incredibly appropriate - no matter how little I personally celebrate the day (and I'm quite averse...except for the festive element).

  

Just for the record, Jerusalem IS festive - Chanukah is in the air. But that will have to wait for another post. Fortunately, there are 8 days to Chanukah, so I have a few more. As my 5-year-old nephew told his 7-year-old-sister, when she complained that they receive fewer presents than their Christian schoolmates, "No, we have EIGHT days" (he's good at math). They have no fear of coal either. 

In the meantime, I encourage a moment of reflection on the past year - naughty or nice? And how much naughty do you want in your coming year of nice?

Growing into Delays (and Out of Them)

I began this blog because I knew I wanted to be writing, and I had found a topic to explore, as decision-making effects every aspect of life, to a greater or lesser extent.

I still know that I want to be writing, and I have much to explore in my chosen topic of "choices."

When I began back at the end of April, a nay-sayer inquired: How do you possibly have time to blog?

I answered that, firstly, when I have more things on my plate, I am more likely to accomplish them. And secondly, by focusing on the brief essays of blog-posts, I would sharpen my powers of expression for other writing that is incumbent upon me to complete. And thirdly, I would not let blogging interfere with the academic tasks I have undertaken.

Thus, I disappeared for more than a month. 38 days to be exact. The academic writing is taking precedence. It is also taking over my life - in a not entirely altogether bad way. But I will be glad to return to a more diverse schedule, and I have decided - every post needs decisions! - to post the juicy posts I have cooking in the next few days, deadlines or no.

Committing myself to write more, at this point, will force me to write more. Win-win, as far as I am concerned.

Thanks for being patient. I do hope I'm finally "back."

11/11/11

On the twelfth of November, I will tell you about yesterday.

Here is what I planned to do yesterday: http://11elevenproject.com/en/ (with a nod to AY for unknowingly bringing it to my attention).

Once a century, the date is all "ones." 11/11/11.

The people manning the above URL were encouraging people of all walks of creative life to produce something to mark the day. And then it would be publicized through the website. They even offered themes to write on, and left them wide open to interpretation, intentionally.

The 11 topics were:

1. Beginnings
2. Heart Break
3. Make a Wish
4. Faith
5. Routine
6. Water
7. Courage
8. Play
9. Darkness
10. Beauty
11. Love

(http://11elevenproject.com/en/participate/the-11-topics/)

At one point, I thought of writing on water (living in the Middle East, water is a hot topic - pun intended). Another time, I thought of writing on darkness - except that I am avoiding morbidity. I decided, finally, that I would write on routine. And then, ironically, non-routine interruptions prevented me from blogging yesterday, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of the eleventh year of the millennium.

(For more on this date, I recommend this (somewhat quirky) post: http://archuletafanscene.com/2011/11/11/fanscene-geek-post-happy-11-11-11-or-once-a-century-repunit-palindrome-day/, where this funky mathematical approach is found:)

Granted, it was my decision to allow those non-routine interruptions to interrupt. Such as: academic work that is long over-due. Such as: a dear friend's heartache upon getting dumped (or nearly so). Such as: preparations for a trip overseas. Such as: conversations with real live people that took precedence over blogging. Also, baking muffins, doing dishes, cleaning house (those last few might be more routine, after all).

Sometimes the decision must be to do away with the previous decision. But a sales clerk did note the date, so at least 11/11/11 did not pass wholly unnoticed. And now I have commented on it as well, if not as originally planned....

If only to head back to the list of non-routine interferences...thankfully, none of them bad.

PS: Apparently, they also made a horror movie for the occasion: http://1111themovie.com/ (what I shame I don't like horror movies!).

Quick: Neat Freak vs. "Creative Disorder"?

I know I've loaded the "decision" of this post by using the labels above, but I mean no prejudice. I simply cannot remember the characterization for the "neat" side of the scale from my college rooming form. Frankly, I think "creative disorder" was employed to refrain from such pejorative terms as "slob" or, worse, "pig." But whether you seek "spick-and-span" in your environment, or you cannot be happy unless surrounded by (apparent) clutter, we all know whereof I speak: people tend to be either neat or messy - with the caveat that most people are somewhat neat and somewhat messy, often for different things, or under different circumstances.

Is this a matter of temperament or one of choice? If it's a matter of temperament, does that mean we have no choice?

Are you a naturally messy person, who thrives, as the expression goes, in the disorder? Emerging with comfort and creativity?

Are you a naturally neat person, whose uncluttered environment yields an uncluttered mind? For whom clean surfaces is an indication of well-being?

My guess is that most people would like to climb out from under the clutter, but find themselves chasing a moving train (this will happen if you naturally leave your possessions out - where you use them - instead of returning them to their proper abodes...or if you don't have a designated home for your possessions, if only because you don't have the proper receptacles or room for your things (there's a reason The Container Store makes a killing (and the "organizer" sections of Target, Wal-Mart, etc. as well)). And most other people would like to loosen up a little, and rest easy despite the presence of dishes in the sink overnight (for example) or unmade beds all day.

It's the need for those efforts, both successful and unsatisfied, that suggest that nature may play the stronger role in our propensities towards neatness/disorder. But we can also conquer ourselves - with enough will (or so we may choose to believe).

Personally, I thrive best in a pristine environment, though I'm able to close my eyes to some degree of jumbled possessions in the public arena.

PS: For the sake of this post, my assumption is that both kinds of people are hygienic in a healthy way. As in: no grossness, but tidy people who are not compulsive, and sterile surfaces under the messy mess.

Go Ye and Repent! (or maybe just watch movies)

When givens are choices....and choices givens.

I'm remembering that one person's deepest obligations are another's "optional."

For example: I once knew a young woman whose approach to potential imagined financial crisis was to rely on the charity of the charitable. To me, the notion was an anathema. As far as I was concerned, the way to handle potential imagined financial crisis was to work hard now, when no crisis loomed, and save carefully, not only for the "rainy day," but to safeguard against hurricanes.

Doesn't it happen to you, now and again? You meet someone and discover their norms are utterly the opposite of your own and neither of you can reconcile to even the possibility of the other's approach?

In the case that spurs this post, however, there are no real surprises. On this eve of Yom Kippur, I can acknowledge that I never thought all Jews treat the day as one of fasting and repentance and prayer. I have always known Jews for whom Yom Kippur was a day like any other. For most of American Jewry, I believe that is the case.

אבינו מלכנו...

שתהא השעה הזאת שעת רחמאים ועת רצון מלפניך

For the State of Israel, however, Yom Kippur is a national holiday, albeit not the most festive one on the calendar. The entire country shuts down:

• Buses and stores and recreational sites (and businesses) that are open throughout the country (though not in Jerusalem, and select other places) on any given Sabbath of the year are closed on Yom Kippur (it would seem that it is not for nothing that the Bible dubs the day "shabbat shabbaton" - the Sabbath of Sabbaths (the Sabbath to beat all Sabbaths?) - though I'm fairly certain (ahem) that the biblical epithet pre-dates the Israeli practice). 
• The television channels have no programming (can you imagine, no T.V.? - though cable from outside of the country is available to subscribers). 
• The radio stations do not broadcast - they close off the year by wishing everyone a good year, with the traditional greeting of "G'mar chatimah tovah" - A good sealing in the famous Book of Life - and the playing of Hatikvah, the national anthem (they begin broadcasting again with the hourly news report which permeates every other Israeli day: "Shalom Yisrael...henei ha-chadashot mi-Kol Yisrael..." (Hello Israel...Here is the news from the Voice of Israel...)
• The streets are free of cars - really! See here: 24 hours of a busy Tel Aviv intersection (with thanks N, who directed me to it). In fact, the Israeli news reports on the number of bicycle accidents on Yom Kippur. The rest of the year, the concern is the crazy high number of car accidents. But on Yom Kippur, kids on bikes rule the roads - and they take wild advantage (The other important statistic reported every year in the aftermath of Yom Kippur is how many babies were born over the course of the day - another statistic not reported any other day of the year, as far as I know. I'm fairly certain that more women go into labor on Yom Kippur because fasting induces labor (and for someone whose due-date is near, the fast is (usually) not considered dangerous, so the pregnancy does not offer a medical exemption. But I believe the news report is a reminder of the quintessential nature of the Jewish state. That is: we're all in this together, we Jews, in our tiny country, and we rejoice in the birth of our children).

So, Yom Kippur is pretty much impossible to avoid in Israel. But that does not mean that everyone "keeps" Yom Kippur. 

A few months ago, I startled an Israeli with the notion that I indeed fast, and not only on Yom Kippur, but the other minor fasts that are sprinkled throughout the Jewish calendar. In turn, he startled me with the fact that he had grown up eating on Yom Kippur - he was not rejecting the religion of his forefathers; rather, he'd been raised with a strong tradition of Judaism that did not include barely a whit of observance.

More recently (as in, this week), I've been taking note of the way people who are ostensibly not religious deal with Yom Kippur. One guy said - yes, he fasts. He and his family have a big meal beforehand, rendering the fast "not that hard." Someone else explained that she used to fast, but she felt that it was wrong to do so, since she basically spends the day hanging out watching movies, and just not eating. So she stopped not eating, rather than feel hypocritical in her lack of practice (she acknowledges, however, that she would NEVER get in a car on Yom Kippur - "people would look at you! It's just not done"). Someone else has been unintentionally incorporating Yom Kippur into her entire year, excusing any exception to general level of observance (mostly kosher, for example) as peccadilloes to make sure she has something to repent for (she does fast).

On the opposite side of the spectrum, some folks have been rising early to recite Selihot (poetic penitential passages written in the Middle Ages) for the past couple of weeks (Sephardic Jews for the past month +). In yeshivot, there has been in-depth study of the laws of the day, and the manner in which it was observed in days of yore, when the Temple stood in Jerusalem, and animal sacrifice was a focus of the day. And many people have been giving serious consideration to their conduct of the past year...resolving to reform their lapses of practice, and affirming their desire to improve themselves. The confessional recited in the Yom Kippur service makes self-reflection an integral part of the day - for those who participate in the Yom Kippur service.

And that's the point: for some, the fast of Yom Kippur with all of the trappings is a given, and not fasting is unheard of. For others, fasting on Yom Kippur is a bizarre, antiquated, quaint notion. And for many, it is optional, whether a preferred ideal or attempted at whim. Personally, I found it moving when I rode a post-Yom Kippur bus one year, and overheard a weathered gent proclaim with pride that he indeed had made it through the whole fast, and had never done so before.

תשובה ותפילה וצדקה

מעבירין את רוע הגזרה

וכן יהי רצון.

Of course, what is key here is the sense of obligation - whether to fast or to eat. In truth, we are fortunate that every approach is a matter of choice. As compared to past eras when the non-Jewish governing authority forbade the celebration of the Jewish holidays. Or the concentration camps, in which any morsel of food sustained life, which trumped the obligation to fast, though it dampened Jewish pride (worse, the Nazis offered more, better food on Yom Kippur, though not everyone ate). Or the 1973 Yom Kippur War that pulled Israel's reserve army from the synagogues. Don't get me wrong. I'm not suggesting that keeping Yom Kippur in a serious way is easy in any age, and I'm not sure everyone who does so is thrilled by the experience. Still, for all that religious sensibilities or lack thereof may dictate a person's practice, in this day and age, at least in Israel, people do whatever they want....or rather whatever they choose - even when they treat their practice as a given. 

As with so much, the day will largely be what we make it.

Here's a shabby approximation of the sun as I expect to see it setting, when Yom Kippur is coming to a close (at least, if previous years are any predictor):

(http://almostaliyah.blogspot.com/2007/11/sunset-from-neve-daniel.html)
Post-fast PS: Turns out it was a cloudy day, with the glorious sun ducking/hidden by purpley grey.

G'mar chatimah tovah.

Continuing Along with Aplomb

And then there are the things that are beyond our control... Not hurricanes or earthquakes or blizzards, that insurance companies call "acts of God." Not terminal illness, which is a terrible enough removal of choice to merit its own post. Not even the limitations with which each of us are born (I might bemoan my inability to be an NBA ball player, but at 4'10", it was never going to happen).

Rather, the things that are beyond our control that have significant impact on our lives...the things we don't expect, and don't plan for, but suffer or rejoice in the changes they effect, and they may well make "all the difference."

A nice example is winning the lottery (with a whopping payoff, I mean). I'm reasonably certain that people don't really expect to win the lottery when they buy their tickets. Yet a windfall can change a person's life (I know, I know, all kinds of lottery winners mismanage their money, but let's go with the dream of winning big and living better). An unpleasant example is discovering that your significant other is cheating on you...with your best friend, sibling, or a stranger. No matter whom, the discovery wreaks havoc, and the circumstances themselves are out of your control.

More complicated are the examples that pepper most people's lives. Not finding the "right one" to marry (assuming you want to marry)...not having children on your desired schedule...having children with disabilities...losing a job at which you excel because of "the economy, stupid!" Any one of these turns of events has an element of the tragic to it, because it twists the path of your life in directions that you had not intended or expected or desired.

And any one of these turns of events is reason to mope - at least, on occasion, and for some, to be morose. But others handle the unexpected changes with such poise that their life's challenges appear ideal (or at least wonderful) to the beholder. And that is the point - that each of these unexpected changes to the course of one's life influence the details of the day-to-day. For though one can get stuck in the morass of upset from the unexpected, one can instead continue along, with aplomb, living the life we are given. For example:

• The single person who makes the most of his or her time....in career or creative endeavor or academic endeavor or social action or travel or self-development (it's all self-development, really!).
• The childless couple who does similarly...living among those who have children (even many children) and relish their opportunities that the demands of children would not have permitted.
• The family with a disabled child that demonstrates a capacity for loving and giving and good humor (any child allows for the same, of course, but some "special children" take the cake...literally, if you let them!).
• The unemployed person who uses the loss of job as an opportunity to pursue his or her true interests, and develops himself or herself beyond his or her previous expectations.

I know several who are described by each of the above circumstances...and I would love to tell their stories in greater detail - primarily because not one of the people I am thinking of may be considered a "Pollyanna." They are not "making the best of a bad situation" (though perhaps they truly are). Rather, they live each day...putting one foot in front of the other, handling whatever has come their way. But I don't want to trespass on their privacy either. Suffice it to say that one unmarried woman went to college, and then graduate school, at the age of 25, instead of continue to twiddle her thumbs (she learned to roller blade too, and in the years afterwards, did marry and have children). Another woman used her time "between jobs" to delve into the art of baking bread. One father of a disabled child recounts his son's startling artistic talent with pride (instead of bemoaning the boy's handicaps), and a mother of another disabled child told me that the family is lucky he is so lovable. He IS lovable; they are lucky. But what impresses me is that her comment acknowledges the hardship she faces in the very same breath that she compliments her son.

I'm not sure that one achieves poise with effort (isn't the wonder of poise that it is effortless?), but if I could manage the challenges in my own life not by confronting them, but by simply living them, day-to-day, with grace and aplomb, I might deem them conquered.

When Deciding Is Not Enough...

This blog being point in fact...

Back in August, I made a great decision. I was going to blog much more often...I even mapped out topics I wanted to consider in this forum. It was a fine decision. But deciding was not enough, as, here it is, coming to the end of the month, and I have fewer posts than any previous month. How can that possibly be?

I would like to claim that it is because I was busy skydiving off Mount Everest, or dancing on Broadway, or plumbing the depths of the Mediterranean, or finding a cure for cancer, or running a marathon, or negotiating peace between Israel and the Palestinians, or breeding champion race horses, or baking the perfect loaf of bread, or building my dream house with my own two hands, or composing for the Boston Symphony Orchestra....

But really, I have very little idea where the time went.

Now, with Rosh HaShanah around the corner (that is, in 9 hours), I will not be able to make good on my decision to blog frequently this month...September is nearly over. But the Jewish New Year is a prime time to rectify regrets...So here's hoping for a glorious new year, for blogging and, more importantly, if truth be told, everything else.

(And now for the sappy comment: Deciding might not be enough, but without deciding, I'm not sure how far any of us would get...which leaves me little choice but to continue to try.)

Bad Choices: Television

Oh, you knew it was coming eventually....T.V. is every mom's favorite "bad choice" - especially when it is watched at the expense of doing homework or playing outside!

Remember the movie Avalon? Where the family gets into television? Apparently, there is something about the moving-images-across-a-screen phenomenon that is hypnotizing (the fact that they have such moving-image-screens (sometimes in-house ads, sometimes television) broadcasting in banks and airports and the J.F.K. customs hall suggests that television is the true opiate of the masses).

My favorite shocking statistic is that watching T.V. burns fewer calories than sleeping. Apparently, this delicious piece of trivia was a Snapple tidbit in 2006. But I've been quoting it from studies sometime around 2000 or maybe 2002 (though I now see some discrepancy in that assessment).

(But what if you exercise while watching T.V.? Is that such a bad choice?)

Still, some of the options to watch on T.V. are worse than other options. I personally can't abide reality shows. The gross ones are worse. And the demeaning ones even worse.

But for some of the better options - I would consider "staying in" for them (except that there's no need anymore, what with all the devices that record shows and save them for later....or the TV-on-DVD option, that helps me out, since I have no connection to any television networks or cable, but simply the "box" and a DVD player.

Thus, I've never quite accepted my father's claim that watching television turns one's brain to mush (though I'm fairly certain it's not as intellectual an experience as reading all of the books in the Library of Congress).

How about you? Favorites or most hated shows? Any good "TV stories," pro or con?

Ongoing Decisions (a.k.a. Happy Aliyaversary)

I didn't make up the term. Someone else did. It refers to the day that commemorates one's aliyah. Literally, "going up," "aliyah" is the word used for a Jew's move to Israel, from anywhere else in the world, the Diaspora (an Israeli who moves to that Diaspora is said to have made "yeridah" - going down). Such is the snobbery (or religious conviction) regarding the primacy of the Holy Land.

Five years ago today, I declared aliyah.

I had lived in Israel for approximately 7 years (in different stints) prior to September 7, 2006 (I kinda think of September 6 as the aliyah date, since that's when I boarded the plane...but the date of leaving and the date of arriving were not the same (and the fact that I focus on the date of departure may be representative of some aspects of my attitude -or simply the vestige of remembering when to go to the airport)).

My declaration of aliyah was the result of a practical decision. I had come to Israel the previous September for a clutch job that was a wonderful opportunity (and largely a wonderful job). But I came prematurely - on the timetable to the job's demands, when I was not quite yet ready to uproot myself. I was quite unsettled and didn't like feeling homeless (and felt guilty for the sentiment, since it was the same summer as Hurricane Katrina and Israel's Disengagement from Gaza - both events leaving many people truly homeless and with far more trauma).

So I realized that I could not decide whether living in Israel, the official Jewish dream for thousands of years, a move I believed to be "right" - was actually right for ME. And I realized that I could not make a healthy decision while I was suffering from maladjustment. I decided to declare aliyah (I had no objection to becoming an Israeli citizen), give myself time to adjust, and see how I felt about my living in Israel. I gave myself 5 years to adjust, admittedly, an arbitrary number. Today is that day. I've adjusted, though I'm still unsettled in a number of important ways. My decisions for the future are being held in abeyance nonetheless. I know my inclinations, and I have intuition regarding what will happen next, but in the meantime, I'm working on what is now, and trusting that the future will fall into place.

Not so different from what I wrote in my essay to Nefesh B'Nefesh, the organization that assists people with their aliyah. I am intrigued to discover that my attention to the making of decisions is not a recent thing.

Entitled:: אין שמחה כפתרון הספקות - there is no joy like the resolving of doubt.

(Identifying details have been removed to protect the innocent.)

If only…If only I really knew what the future would bring. It would make all decisions easier.

I first came to Israel at the age of 9, on a family vacation. It was a memorable trip. The airline bumped us and my parents made a scene. But more, it brought to life so much of what we had learned in school. We hiked and went to museums and tasted sufganiyot and davened at the Kotel (and saw the paratroopers swearing-in ceremony). We kids were regaled by parental reminiscences about how when they were in Israel in 1967, they could not come much closer to the Kotel than the King David Hotel. It was a wonderful trip, but I did not think of moving to Israel then.

I next came to Israel at the age of 17, here for my “year-in-Israel,” to learn Torah at [anonymous midrashah]. I did not experience a particular moment of revelation, but by year’s end (if not before I arrived in the country to begin with), I was certain of my long-term intent to settle in Israel. My approach was not starry-eyed or emotional, but simple and practical: for two-thousand years, Jews have been yearning to return to the land; we have the opportunity – who am I not to live here?

So when I graduated college, and I knew that I wanted to continue my studies, logic dictated that I come to Israel. For all intents and purposes (except for the bookkeeping of the Jewish Agency), I stayed for 5 years. I learned full-time, I taught part-time, and I paid my first bills as an adult in Jerusalem. I developed backbone when I fought with the municipality about arnonah. I learned to speak up for myself when people stepped on my feet on the bus without apology. I dreaded hearing “pigua music” on the radio, suffering through periods of mourning, as terror incidents increased (though we did not know then that the situation would deteriorate even further). I rejoiced that the flower stores of Jerusalem were open all-night Erev Pesach, and that Christmas came and went without fanfare (except in Beit Lechem, where the twinkling “seasonal” lights made sense). I knew the routes of every Jerusalem bus. I was very much at home…yet I was never quite sure that the time was right for me to stay. 

Eventually, I decided I needed to shake things up. I had exhausted the opportunities for women’s learning then available, and wanting further progress, I went back to the States. My departure was “sanctioned” in that I had all three halakhically legitimate motivations for leaving the land (parnassah, talmud Torah, and social life). Uprooting myself was not easy, but the move was a good one at the time. Nevertheless, even as I knew that I was likely to stay in America longer than the 3 years of my learning program, I never planned to “settle down” anywhere but Israel.

Eight years later, the problem was that I hadn’t had the reason or opportunity to settle down anywhere – which made it harder to decide to come back. But in May 2005, [a different anonymous midrashah] made me an offer that I couldn’t refuse. A full-time job teaching in a post-high school midrashah is hard to come by, and I knew that I was very lucky to have the opportunity to come teach in Israel without spending most of my time in transit from one job to the next. And as difficult as it was to change my plans with the rapidity that their offer required (to the extent that there was no time even to do the paperwork for aliyah last summer!), I was pleased that the challenge was for only good things.

I did not envision this year as a “trial run” for aliyah. My commitment to settle in Israel had not abated and I knew the country well; what need was there for a trial run?  Nor did I envision this year as a sabbatical.  “Sabbatical” suggests taking a break from a regularly scheduled program, but I consciously left my position there when I came here. Rather, in what has become a norm, I have been taking each day as it comes, and appreciating my time and my activities. In doing so, I have also been laying tracks – establishing facts on the ground. Employment… housing… reconnecting with friends and colleagues…And the mundane details of daily life (finding the best supermarket, the right shiur, the nicest makolet man…and learning how to work the VOiP phone, how to keep warm in the winter, how to navigate the new bus routes…) – This is the stuff of moving to Israel.

The decision to make aliyah was never a decision for me; it was a given. As for the question marks in my own life that leave me with decisions to make…I am not sure that I can count on achieving the simchah of pitron ha-sefekot. Instead of making decisions, I am continuing along. Perhaps I will never have reason to settle down – but in establishing facts on the ground, I am settling myself down. Perhaps I will always wonder to some extent what I’m going to be when I grow up – but after close to 15 years in Jewish education of one form or another, I have grown up in the profession. I am making things work – in the most practical of ways.  I cannot know what the future will bring; more, it is as I watch the future unfold each day that I make my desert bloom.

Resolution Lists

On the first day of the Hebrew month of Elul, I can write about nothing but making resolutions.

Writing this post is a paltry fulfillment of my resolution back in July to post more posts in August. With this post, I meet that goal, except that I had intended around three times as many posts in August as in July. That would fall under "good intentions," which aren't quite my path to hell, but merit their own post, sometime down the road.

Elul is considered a time for resolutions in the way that the end of December brings out the list-writing-tendency. The Jewish New Year, Rosh HaShanah, is a time of introspection and renewal in a way that "ringing in the New Year" in Times Square doesn't quite capture. Productive reflection over the course of the days (yup, two of them) of Rosh HaShanah is rather difficult with no advance mulling.

Which brings me to my topic of making resolutions.

The frustrating challenge of making resolutions is that we often find ourselves re-making the same resolutions each time we resolve. We don't always (sic) live up to our own plans. So we repeat ourselves. The setting might change a bit, and the end goals shift (perhaps becoming more focused, sometimes less so). But we are ourselves. We progress, of course (we hope!). Nonetheless, while the things that challenge us initially may diminish in force over time, they continue to be our personal bane. If they didn't challenge us, we wouldn't need those darned resolutions anyway. We'd be working on something else, and making resolutions about that!

Those resolutions are often the substance of jokes: starting the diet, stopping smoking, avoiding procrastinating, being nicer to people, working more efficiently, etc. Bridget Jones' Diary presented the making of resolutions with comedic art.

I therefore would like to address a different kind of resolution (there's plenty of Elul left to return to the notion of fixing ourselves, after all). I recently stumbled upon what strikes me as a very fun website called Day Zero: Plan. Create. Motivate. Achieve. The premise of the website is to provoke its members (and anyone else who stumbles across it) to fulfill their dreams, including dreams they might not even realize they have, by making a list of 101 things to accomplish in 1001 days. They explain that 1001 days is several seasons in which to get organized to accomplish things (beyond a single year, for example). They also establish a standard that tasks must be specific and measurable. And in this age of social media, members share their lists, and benefit from the ideas of others. The twelve most popular goals (since I didn't gravitate to all of the top 10) are:

1.	Donate blood
2.	Write a letter to myself to open in 10 years
3.	Sleep under the stars
4.	Get a tattoo
5.	Leave an inspirational note inside a book for someone to find
6.	Kiss in the rain
7.	Don't complain about anything for a week
8.	Fall in love
9.	Answer the "50 Questions That Will Free Your Mind"
10.	Watch the sunrise and sunset in the same day
11.	Get a job
12.	Watch 26 movies I've never seen starting with each letter of the Alphabet

I recommend perusing the list of 101 most popular goals, here.

As for me, my list grows and grows. Some of the things on my list overlap with the other kind of resolution. But many are things I would like to do one day, some day. Not necessarily 101, and not necessarily in 1001 days. The goals are there nonetheless. Perhaps I shall begin by deciding to make better headway this year than last.

Quick: Breakfast

What should I have for breakfast? What should you?

My mother never asks this question. Long before I knew her (I believe), she began a routine of cottage cheese and toast, with jam and cinnamon, accompanied by coffee and a small glass of orange juice. If you ask her, she will tell you that she discovered it as a dieter's breakfast (before the addition of jam), and it was recommended by Weight Watchers (perhaps she'll correct in the comments below, if I have these details wrong). Over the years, the type of bread has varied (raisin bread, whole wheat, challah). The number of cups of coffee has varied (depending on the size of the cup, I believe). The orange juice may be from concentrate, or not. And the flavor of jam is unimportant (strawberry is the taste of choice, but grape or raspberry would do fine in a pinch, I'm sure). Mom, this "Quick Question" is not for you.

Yes, this is what it looks like. Sorry.

    .

Most of the rest of the world is more flexible, more variable, I believe.

A cup of coffee?
A bowl of cereal (with milk)?
A muffin?
Bagels and lox?
A hard-boiled egg?
A breakfast bar?
A banana?
Cottage cheese and chopped tomatoes and cucumbers?
Scrambled eggs and hash browns and a side of bacon, washed down with orange juice?
None at all?

Do you eat on the run? Do you eat in your car? Do you sit down to a large buffet (entailing a whole new set of choices!)?

As a kid, I ate cereal. Cheerios. Raisin Bran. Rice Krispies. Granola. The occasional Alphabits or Fruit Loops. Eggo waffles. Hot instant oatmeal in the winter (Maple & Brown Sugar was our favorite). Hot farina that my grandfather would cook up at 4:00 AM before he left for the office, when we visited. Big events were french toast or pancakes or rocky mountains (after we brought the concept home from camp breakfast cookouts - here's the recipe).

In high school, and for years thereafter, I ate no breakfast at all. At some point, I became diligent about ingesting that "most important meal of the day." I still nearly never eat when I first awaken, and sometimes I forget to eat until many hours later. But I'll eat something. Usually a breakfast bar or a yogurt or pita and peanut butter (yes) or cereal or a brioche (a Friday treat). Most often accompanied by some version of latte (except when I skip the food part altogether).

Different occasions call for different foods, of course. But how much attention do you pay to your breakfast?

Does what you eat in the morning make or break your day?

Going for the Gold

When do you decide to push yourself? When do you refrain?

Kerri Strug famously vaulted the U.S. Gymnastics Team to gold on an injured ankle. The story is the making of...well, the Olympics. Basically, for the vault event in Women's Gymnastics, the competitors have the option of vaulting twice. Unless one scores a perfect 10, it's nearly always worth the second attempt (and very few do - Mary Lou Retton managed it under extreme pressure in the 1984 Olympics (here), but you try it!). In 1996, Kerri Strug fell during her first vault. That's when she injured her ankle. Her score of 9.162 left the team gold in question, as one of the top Russian competitors Roza Galieva did not perform well enough in her final floor exercise to beat the "Magnificent 7," as the US Team came to be known, even without Kerri's second vault. But nobody knew that yet, and when her coach, Bela Karolyi, told her that they really needed her to nail her second vault, she did. I watched it live. You can watch it here. 9.712 clinched the gold medal for the American team, and though the injury prevented Kerri from completing the individual competition, her vault has gone down in history as one of the shining Olympic moments of grit and determination, not to mention spunk and poise (read the play-by-play drama here). I tear up thinking about it, and it's fifteen years later (well, I've always loved gymnastics).

 

But how far is too far?

Should Kerri Strug have been willing to vault through the pain? Well, she was eighteen, and this was, after all, the Olympics. None of her teammates was surprised that she took the challenge. But should Coach Karolyi have asked Kerri Strug to vault, knowing that she was injured? Some would fault him (some did fault him, though not Kerri) for pushing her too hard (to be fair, he didn't know how badly she was hurt). But those who fault him are not training for the kind of perseverance that Olympic excellence demands.

The tricky question is determining when to "go for gold," and when to accept the "B-" (so to speak). There is little better than excellence (!), and slackers in general need not apply, but outside of the Olympics, a balance is surely warranted. Constant striving is admirable, but the very effort of it takes a less than excellent toll. Kerri Strug made Olympic history, but she herself had to come to terms with her disappointment in not winning Individual All-Around Gold (she did).

Not an easy line to discern. More to think about another time.