Embracing the Irrational

This is just one of many techniques I used in order to heal well and feel well after tearing my cartilage just eleven weeks ago.

Undo, not to, aka my "ignore" list

My ignore list is not about a Facebook feature ... although, today Facebook was on it.

My ignore list is the thing I create when I have a few urgent priorities... and don't want any distractions. Today, I had a short work day due to doctor's appointments and the like. I left my phone in my purse, I had a mini lunch of yogurt and low fat granola. Kept things short and sweet.

On my way to work I compiled what I wouldn't do today for the hours I was in my office: No errands on campus, no break for lunch, no facebook unless it's work related (usually, I take a FB break during lunch and, occasionally a really short one during my 3 o'clock slump/tea break etc). Sometimes I cut personal email too, today, I did.

It's a great way to focus and even relax a bit ... When I left the office, I had that momentary "where's my phone?" lapse, because I couldn't imagine leaving it in my bag for 6 hours.

When you're over committed, give yourself permission to disconnect from a number of things that distract you along the way. It will keep you organized, and especially if "to do" lists make you cringe for any reason, this is another approach to help you out!

Do you have organizational strategies that keep you focused on a tough day? Do you cringe at to-do lists? What's your organizational dilemma, at work or home?

No more "Next Year"

The new Jewish month is upon us shortly. Adar rishon, or the first month of Adar, is a leap month, added into the calendar to keep it balanced out. I prepare differently for the month ahead than is typical. In fact, I typically let one month slide into the next with very little acknowledgement. But I will be spending three weeks of the coming month (actually within February and Adar) abroad, in Israel.

First of all, it’s the first time I’ll be in the country since Passover 2006. Every holiday since then, I’ve sung “b’shana haba’ah b’yerushaliyim” next year in Jerusalem. Here it is, returning to the country of prayers and there isn’t a holiday in sight. Not even a new month. How did I manage that?

Thinking about the odds, I looked back at the luach, the hebrew calendar and noticed there was *something* on it. Oh. I’ll be spending “purim katan” in Israel. You’ve never heard of it because it isn’t observed in any substantial way anymore. I mean if you’re searching, we are told not to fast on that day. And we are told not to eulogize, either. I know this because it marks the burial of my bubbe, my maternal grandmother.

Now, when my grieving mother was told this, she was already in avelut, in mourning, for her father who we had lost not six weeks before. That graveside funeral had so many words of love, honor, blessing, both impromptu and organized, that I’m certain they carried our family home and through the week of mourning, shiva. My bubbe hadn’t travelled with us that cool December day, but we recounted the memories to her as we visited her throughout shiva.

I also want to make it clear that my mother was not told this by some forceful rabbi, but by her paternal uncle, who served as our family Rabbi when we were assembling for these kinds of gatherings. He let her know that she could practice however she saw fit. But, if we’re speaking honestly here, my mother was emotionally raw from talking about the dead. She had been exhausted by the long drawn out process of saying goodbye to both of her parents.

My mother welcomed the invitation not to prepare another eulogy. It was another blessing for her. I called my great uncle Itzy, rabbi, and I asked what the halacha was. To check what the rules really were. He said, if a eulogy is given, it has been said if they are words of torah that is OK. I replied, so if i write a d’var torah, if i bring text and teach in her memory, that is OK? It was.

I hadn’t spoken about my grandfather at his funeral service, the voices were so prominent there, and i was still so heartbroken from having seen him in hospice in his final days, where he was but a shell of the man who outpaced me my whole life.

I don’t remember what teaching I brought in my grandmother’s memory. I have it in a journal somewhere - but whatever text I used, whomever I quoted or celebrated, when I ended with my bubbe’s advice, the words she’d said to me when we parted for as long as I can remember, she’d rest her cane somewhere so she had both hands free and say “Sheridan, be sure to grow this way (she’d widen her arms vertically) and not this way (horizontally)!” Since she continued saying this long after I turned 12 and stopped growing, I can only assume she meant towards the heavens, with Godly and goodly intentions, to strive for higher heights and not be dormant and unmoved. May we understand her blessing to me as a hope for all of us, to grow in the right ways.

As we returned to the limo, thawing out from the icy winter morning, my mother said to me, “I didn’t know she used to say that to you.” I had given her a new memory. Shared with her a private moment, let my mother see that sometimes my bubbe wasn’t a hardened heart, but had a sense of humor and bemusement.

Our relationships with the people we love the most are also always the most difficult. It is easy to turn off or turn away. And when the rabbis say “don’t eulogize” the were hoping to lessen the pain, to not ruin the joy. But in celebrating the people we love, we can create more joy.

I wonder if we should explore what our tradition should say about ‘minor’ holidays today, and how they impact our relationship with traditional Jewish protocol. I wonder if it doesn’t harden the heart to spend years claiming, ‘next year in Jerusalem’ only to find yourself there on a quiet sabbath. But then I realize, Jerusalem is like my grandmother, always sending you off with a smile, a sweet treat, the call to return. Don’t wait until next year. Celebrate the people and places you love right now.

My Attitude of Gratitude: Cultivated in 2010

I’m not the kind of woman who seeks mentors. I have found a rare few in my life, a professor who I worked for in college and graduate school, a colleague or two. But typically, I’m a fiercely independent person. That’s why, in reflecting on what I’m so grateful for this past year, I’m surprised to say that the first thing that pops into my head after health, is one Sissy Block. A wonderful friend, I am feeling particularly grateful to her because she made me a generous offer this year. She suggested we become “writing partners” - she is the person with whom I meet weekly or bi-monthly to sit beside as we write our respective creative projects. Both are books. Very different, very fictionalized, but both very personal. Having someone beside you while you pour your guts onto a page (or computer screen) is unbelievably validating. What sometimes felt self indulgent now feels powerful, significant, important, occasionally even urgent.

Our “writing dates,” as I call them, alternate neighborhoods for convenience and optimal wifi (though it’s not on the whole time we write! Focus is key). Most days we get over the loud study group or bad date nearby. In fact, if it’s a bad date I usually use it for material for the book I’m working on. Showing up for a writing date is like a planned coffee with a best friend. If you’ve ever had the type of friend who you could pick up with whether it had been one week or one year, that’s the feeling I get when I walk into a room to write with Sissy. She and I don’t need to catch up, the book and I do, and because Sissy’s there, I can pick up exactly where I left off.

When I’m sick, but we meet anyway, I find that I actually do my best writing. My most insecure thoughts, my most off-limit topics, suddenly become easier to deal with than my stomach ache … and I just write - no holds barred. Some really beautiful things come from those moments.

When we take a break from writing to catch up on our personal lives, after all, Sissy and I know each other from volunteering together and get along quite nicely on our own, Sissy reminds me to “write it” to “use it” because it’s here, it’s real. “It” has become better and better thanks to her encouragement. The gratitude we have for one another, for the forward momentum we create by being together in our creative efforts is palpable most days.

Sometimes we laugh out loud at our writing. We share exciting moments of character development. Her project is farther along than mine - and I know that she’ll come to me one day and say she doesn’t need to meet any more... but having her beside me as I’ve taken my first steps on this journey of writing my first novel makes me feel like I’ve taken strides where I would have taken baby steps, and for that I am forever grateful.

Sissy Block and I both have full time jobs working within Jewish academia. We are both active volunteers for Limmud NY. In fact, we met at Limmud NY. You never know where you will be when someone wonderful impacts your life. I’m just lucky we found one another!

Writing for Life

I started a chapter of a book a while back, that I've been sitting with and nurturing, editing and refining. I feel a little like a kid with an open wound. Eww. I'll leave that image alone.

I've been working on outlining books and snippets and short stories for quite a while but this one is so personal it changes my mood with each read. I have no idea if it will affect others similarly. I'm thinking I should workshop it somewhere ... which leads me to wonder where I'll find the time in the new year.

So I'm assessing priorities and finding solutions. Space management, doing a better job of organizing my new apartment is an important mission for this month. So far it's going pretty smoothly, but it seems so mundane compared to creative time. I keep peeking over at my guitar and thinking it'd be more fun to pick that up than continue switching out summer clothes for sweaters.

Wondering who else has streamlined their lives lately and what recommendations you might have for neating up around the edges?

Best Question of the Week: "How is your Heart?"

If a doctor had asked the question, I would be in a gown, spouting my symptoms from rise to sleep. But I'm 28. I go to the doctor for unexplained symptoms, stomach problems, and most recently, an ear infection. We haven't discussed my heart beyond Cheerios. That is, how to keep my cholesterol in check in order to keep me heart-healthy.

Instead, the question came from a Rabbi. Well, a mentor, confidant, and friend, who is a Rabbi, teacher and a spiritual guide. He asked, "How is your heart?" and the completely honest answer is "... still not quite ready." The answer I wanted to give, the place I want to be is someplace still far off. Though not as far as when he and I sat down just over a year ago for coffee. I'm closer to that answer I want to give - "My heart is open and available, it is ready, it is healed, it is waiting ..." So the answer I gave continued, and I'd like partial credit for it. "I'm working on it... I'm learning ... I'm still having difficulty opening it to the right person..." many disjointed thoughts. Much reason for pause.

Since the season for renewal hit (some people call it fall, I call it the high holidays), I can tell you that I have been hyper-aware of my heart. I know it is still so tightly wrapped, protected. I keep trying to open up, and I know I do it only slightly, and rarely. Usually to "safe" people. That's been going on nearly eight years this December. People who can't possibly stay in my life long, or people who have been here forever. I can't manage the in between.

If I imagine my heart - right now - it is as a diver. Certainly not Olympic grade - probably not even competitive. A leisurely diver, toes over the board wavering about whether to take the plunge. I think a year ago, when I met with this friend my heart and I were on a high board - hardly able to see the pool below. Now, I can smell it, see it - I'm resting on this regular diving board - but I don't know what the temperature will be and I know I'm scared to just dive in. I want it to be graceful, I want it to garner applause. This is when I hate the perfectionist in me. I can be an amateur in love. Isn't everyone at first? I have to remind myself, I'm the only one watching and I need to get past the fear to recognize the fun. It's really going to be worthwhile. And if I fail somehow, I can get back out and dive again.

But diving isn't a sport I know. I'm not confident here - and I am typically a fountain of confidence. I've gotten back on a horse who has thrown me into a fence. I am stubborn and strong just like the animal who spooked and reared and couldn't wait to be rid of me. If I can have faith that the horse will be there for me, why can I not have the same trust in man? The universe has a way of working things out. Trust it. Sit with it.

I'm ready to dive. I'm ready to ride. I'm ready to see what all this hype is about.

Now, if only my words could be as effective as action.