Standing Proud, Standing Witness, and Taking Action

Why you should join me at the Nova Festival Exhibition on Wednesday, April 30. 

Buy tickets here.

If you can't come with me, go another time. We ALL need to stand witness.

193 Days Is 193 Days Too Many

 I don't post or share every day, but every day of the last 293 days is etched on my heart, in my mind, and on my soul.

I am not one to be without words. (Yes, I know some of you are laughing right now.) Yet, for 193 days, I have had no words. No words. Only pictures.

Whether good or bad, my memories are tableaus, with pictures, scents, and emotions to accompany them.

My earliest memory of our family cradle in the southwest corner of our den, placed there for my baby brother. There is no picture of this, only confirmation from my parents that it was there.
I remember learning that my grandfather had died. My father and brother were are a school sports night. I ran to the school to get them.
I remember walking along 5th Ave with my family the winter before my bat mitzvah. We were enjoying the holiday windows and decorations. We wandered into Macy's, FAO Schwartz, and Lord & Taylor. It was in Lord & Taylor that we found some small bells and figurines that would become favors for my bat mitzvah guests.
I remember where I was when I heard John Lennon had been shot - standing in my bathroom getting ready for school; Imus in the Morning on the radio.
I remember my USY pilgrimage bus driving us from Ben Gurion Airport to the hills overlooking Jerusalem. We exited the bus to daven Mincha and get our first looks of that holy city. The memory comes with an overwhelming feeling. It is the feeling of gratefulness for being back in my homeland, as I sat on the ground and cried tears of overwhelming joy.
I remember the moments of joy and wonder as Sean and I married, as our children were born, as they reached milestones (not always smoothly). I remember job offers, buying our first and then our forever home.
And I remember the difficult moments. The personal ones - phone calls telling us other grandparents were gone. My father's deteriorating health. My mother's cancer and death and other illnesses and deaths of family and friends.
And the communal ones - crossing the Verrazano Bridge as the first plane hit the North Tower, the image of the smoke pouring from that tower tower will never fade.

And now, the face of each hostage, of each headline, of the testimonies and the responses, of chants on the streets of Toronto, of the pain in the voices of Jewish and allied students joins those memories. Each day is another layer.

So days pass without words, without posts, without reading and study, and sharing. This is the wall that defends of my heart, my mind, and my soul. It balances the my work, the thing that gives me hope. When I am home, I need the overwhelming noise to stop.

#ADHDLife

 This is ADHD.

Today is that day. That busy, busy day, when you can't get the hour+ that you need to finish a project. So you say you'll do it when you get home. But there's an appointment after work. And when you get home, there's no dinner, so you keep looking in the fridge, but can't decide. And each time you look, you take something else, but nothing really satisfies, so you binge. And you still haven't done the work, because you're still hungry. And then you're nauseous from the binge-eating that is ADHD. And finally, at 11 PM, you sit down to work, but the meds have worn off, and so something else, that DID need to get done distracts you, so here we are at 1:12 AM, still working on the project that needs to be done before tomorrow, when it's already tomorrow.

But finally, in the quiet of the late night house, with a movie playing softly in the background and a cup of tea at your side, you can work.

This is ADHD.

Beginning Again

In the last two years, I've written two posts. There are many excuses.

• I've been busy. 
• After Gandalf died, we adopted two cats, Hecate and Cinnamon. 
• Hecate died. 
• Cinnamon needed a friend. Welcome Pippin.
• My life changed. 
• I went from working 21+ hours a week to 40+ hours. 
• Sean and I haven't fully adapted to the change of me working full-time.
• We moved. And we've been renovating for 19 months and counting. 
• I got orthotics. (Okay, that one doesn't really work.)
• Nora died.
• I've been diagnosed with sleep apnea.
• And ADHD, combined type. (That includes hyperactivity and impulsive type plus inattention and distractable type.)
• And for the last 5.5 months, I have been without words, broken, sad, and unable to move forward. 

It's all these and more. 

And, for the last 5.5 months, though I've frequently thought of writing, I am without words. Even as I type this, I am at a loss.

Today, driving to London, ON, I listened to Shalom Haver. It's a 2-disc set compiled after the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin. There was so much promise for peace at that time. Even after the assassination, we had hope. I want to get that hope back. 

I pride myself on my optimism. During the last 5.5 months, I wanted to write and was without words. They still elude me. I watch what's happening around the world, the increase of antisemitism and the rise of nationalism, and it's hard to retain my optimism. Something needs to change.

So, let me catch up, and maybe, through writing, I can find my words. 

So, all those things with which I started. Watch this space. Explanations are coming.

Tzom Gedaliah 5784 - Politics & Pendulums

Today is Tzom Gedaliah, commemorating the assassination of Gedaliah, the Jewish governor appointed by Nebuchadnezzar, on Rosh Hashanah a few years following the destruction of the Kingdom of Judah and the First Temple in Jerusalem in 586 BCE.

I'm thinking about the day and extremist politics.

Gedaliah was assassinated by Ishmael, a member of the royal family of Judah. Maybe Ishmael was upset with Gadaliah's policies (encouraging the Jews to cultivate fields and vineyards, to begin the work of rebuilding, albeit under foreign rule). Maybe he was angry the ruling family did not have a place in the now Babylonian Judea. Maybe he was influenced by the neighbouring kingdom of Ammon. It's unknown.

Whatever Ishmael's motives, the assassination led to a state of fear among the remaining people and is considered the final blow in the destruction of Jerusalem and Jewish self-rule at the time.

I wonder about the extremist view that says through its actions, it is better we should all fail than my opponents get to be in charge. This may not even be a conscious decision. Nonetheless, when the rhetoric occupies the extremes, this is the result.

I am thinking about the countries that most impact my life: Canada, the US and Israel. In these, as well as other countries around the world, more and more people, not only politicians but regular citizens too, attack their opponents, completely disregarding that, though they hold different opinions, they are (I hope) trying to work for the betterment of the country and its citizens.

My father z"l taught me the pendulum swing of politics and culture. Simply put, things issues, people, politics, policies, etc.) swing to one extreme, reaching a peak, returning to the centre, and then continuing to swing to the opposite extreme, much like the carnival rides I remember from childhood. It was an easy way to explain the ebb and flow of cultural life. Though, of course, it's much more complicated than that, the pendulum swing theory does generally hold. I have added to that view my own that life is lived in the greys of the centre and not the black and white ends. We are better together.

I am lucky. I get to work in this centre space. The only extreme is the dedication to multipartisanship. Today I am thinking of Gedaliah. He was willing to engage, not simply reject. He encouraged others to find their place. (I realize I'm reaching and imagining a story for Gedaliah that he may not have had, but rabbis are called to interpret.) He encouraged the regular citizens around him to work to make their place in the world a better one, encouraging security and mental and emotional ownership instead of building fear. As I fast this Tzom Gedaliah, I hope this is a carnival ride soon to reach its peak and not a pendulum swinging into the pit of Edgar Allen Poe.