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.

Seasonal Sadness

I would like to claim that I haven't been posting much because of the sad season on the Jewish calender. The three weeks between the two fasts of the 17th day of the Hebrew month of Tammuz and the 9th day of the Hebrew month of Av are a time of mourning for the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, ending the era of Jewish sovereignty 2,000 years ago. Creative endeavors, at least completing them, are discouraged, in recognition of the fact that creativity may well engender joy. If I had refrained from posting to this blog for that reason, I might be justified. I do enjoy crafting these posts, after all.

But I made no conscious decision to avoid posting during this time. To the contrary! Every day, I have decided that today, I will complete post X, plan post Y, and think about post Z. Instead, I...don't. No decision made. Simply inertia running the show, until I realize that the evening is over, and bedtime should be considered, and the blog posts deferred until tomorrow.

This planning for tomorrow has been the default a few too many days in a row (maybe a week!). I cannot know what tomorrow will actually bring, of course. And since tomorrow is indeed that second fast day, Tisha B'Av, the ninth of Av, the odds are slim that I will post again before the day of somber, mournful fasting is ended.

But the plan for the blog has not grown cold, and my decision to pursue this particular creativity is sharp still. Inertia does not conquer conscious decisions in the long run. Or, not as long as I remember the plan!

Stay tuned, please.

Bad Choices: Hateful Speech

Hate speech is objectively a bad choice.                         

But the rest of it - of all speech, really - is largely, if not entirely, in the ears of the beholder.

How to choose what to say, when to say, how to say....inevitably risks bad choices.

Personally, I hate foul language. I rarely use it and rarely like hearing it from others (a few notable exceptions come to mind, but they are exceptions because of who they are, and they don't overpower my norms). Others use foul language to fit into their environment, or because they think it's cool, or because they don't even notice "foul language" as distinct from all other language.

Personally, I'm in favor of speaking nicely to others. But sometimes, my "nicely" is another's irritant. For example, one friend hates to be wished "good luck" before a big event. Another friend would find the absence of those good luck wishes to be rude and insensitive. More than one friend count their friends according to who wishes them a "happy birthday," whereas others find true friendship among those who tacitly, subtly ignore the annual recognition of aging. And one friend has recently expressed discomfort with the common greeting, "hi." Who could know how to speak well to every different person, without lots and lots of communication from each and every holder of a set of preferences.

The best is when you are comfortable enough in conversation to not worry about speaking properly or nicely. I once found myself shopping for dinnerware, and in perfect agreement with my shopping buddy regarding what was "horrible." And then I suggested that now that we knew we were comfortable enough to speak so freely, we might do well to refrain from using the extreme language. After all, we might not always agree. Indeed, the next time (or the only subsequent time that matters) he expressed his view that something was horrible was after pushing me for my opinion of something rather private and precious. "Horrible" may have been his legitimate opinion, but I'm fairly certain that we would have been better off if, in his comfort to share his true perspective, he had been wise enough to rephrase, if only just that once.

Sometimes, people utter their views with extreme language. That approach is testimony to their passion, and fairly impressive and even enticing to one who has been trained to academic caution (couching every statement in hesitation, lest it be disproven down the road) - that would be me. The danger of expressing yourself with vehemence or effusiveness, however, is that people may well take you seriously, and you may indeed be "disproven down the road," or simply change your mind (with equivalent vehemence or effusiveness)- in which case, you are less likely to be taken seriously the next time around. For the kind of person who is extreme in his or her thinking and open enough to express that passion, not being taken seriously would surely be a prime insult.

How to say what to say when to say....In a sense, the very willingness to speak leads to risky choices.

Perhaps it is "better to remain silent and be thought a fool, then to open your mouth and remove all doubt" (taken from Proverbs: "Even a fool, when he holds his peace, is thought wise; he who seals his lips is considered a person of understanding" (17:28).

But the benefits of positive communication are truly tempting, even with the pitfalls of saying the wrong thing.