Well, after a few weeks of let-down, I started getting emails, facebook invites, calls and text messages inviting me to join in projects and renew last year's connections. Wow. I did a lot (50 billion auditions, 5 projects, tons of choreography showings and rehearsals, classes, more classes, 10 jobs, 5 apartments, all my savings, gees...). And I see it's paid off!
Before I'm going anywhere (ie Israel), keep an eye on this blog. I'll start letting you in on the Secret Stories of the SSDP very shortly...
It's been an amazing summer. I've grown a lot. I've lost weight (no pun intended...but it's funny anyway). I've updated my weekend, my wardrobe and my lunchbox (haven't decided on the negia part). And I'm super stoked to be moving back to the island! (coming off a stint in Jersey this Sunday)
Let's see how crazy wonderful I can make this year!!
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
National Jewish Retreat
Oh dear...
Another paradigm shift.
1) I'm not becoming "religious," "observant," or crazy(er). I'm simply accepting a gift. A metaphor, of which I am rather proud of being the progenitress, goes as follows:
If someone wants to give you a huge pile of gifts, they can do it one of two ways. They can give you all of them at once, resulting in the pile either crushing you into a pancake or collecting dust in a broom closet. They could also choose to give them to you one at a time, thereby letting you enjoy unwrapping them and take your time integrating them into your life. "Please, sir, can I have some more?"
2) Rabbi Manis Friedman
When orthodox women go to medical school, they touch men. It is a part of their job. The same goes for orthodox men, which is why everybody likes to use the example of the orthodox male gynecologist (seriously, there is one in New York City, or so they say). And the same goes for dancers. Touch between men and women is a part of the job.
Dance is not spiritual. It is just dance. A sculptor takes a block of marble and chips away at it until it becomes a statue. A singer uses her voice to produce a song. The sculptor is taking something mundane (a rock), and gives "life" to something hidden because he has talent. The singer puts breath into her body and her talent makes that music beautiful. Anyone can throw paint at a canvas, but a talented painter can make you think you're looking out of a window. These talented people may enjoy revealing beauty in the mudane (hopefully), but they are not praying.
Talent is just the bridge between ordinary and extraordinary. The dancer takes her body, gives it breath and because of her talent (and years of hard work and obsessive dedication), the result is extraordinary. I don't "have" to dance; I "want" to dance. That's why I keep saying "but I'm not confused when I enter the studio." That's because it is a job. I mean, I did say I wanted to dance professionally...
That being said, even at a wedding we're not elevating sparks. Hashem is not carrying us around the bride. We want to dance. We are not compelled to dance. Both Giselle and Victoria Paige were emotionally unstable.
While I don't have the capacity to become a tzadik (I can and have eaten unwashed and unelevated strawberries. gasp!), I do have the capacity to become a benoni, as do we all. So I have a talent. It's ok to use it as long as I do so in ways that are respectful toward my physical body and the world around it. I can dance in the secular world and still be a good person who is choosing not to transgress.
(*Warning* Rant on SYTYCD coming up...)
I may even have the opportunity to curb some of the vulgarity in the dance world. (I mean, "So You Think You Can Dance" was more like "So You Think You Can See My Crotch" this year. There were at least 10 slow motion side splits per episode. Those cameramen must have had a great time.) Intentional "vulgarity" used to make a statement (Michaelangelo is not considered a pornographer) is one thing, but "being sexy" is not the same as being objectified. One is a choice by the performer and the other is imposed by the viewer. The viewer can never know performer intent, but the choreographer can define the context in which the performance can be viewed. (Of course, in the case of SYTYCD, the choreographers are at the mercy of the producers, who are at the mercy of FOX television, who are is at the mercy of millions of viewers, who are at the mercy of the Hollywood aesthetic, etc... Would the guys have done better in the finale if they'd been wearing speedos? Boxers may have been a big deal for Tadd, but bras and bikinis were the standard uniform for the ladies. Wait a minute... didn't Nigel all but force Caitlyn to sexually mature in a matter of weeks on national television? yicko!) Sex sells, but I still find barely covered crotches in family television vulgar and something not to be desensitized about. Sadly, we get used to this in the dance world. Maybe I should go comment on a NYTimes article. Ok now I'm going to be held accountable... oy vey... tikkun or crazy?
***
Conclusion: I'm not being hypocritical by staying in the secular dance world and teaching dance to frum women. When you look at the programing at the venues I'm trying to teach at, there are no dance classes. So I'm still attending to a dearse even as I slowly accept gifts. And the beauty of it all comes from the fact that I am neither teaching men nor teaching someone else to teach them. (Well, not yet anyway...)
Another paradigm shift.
1) I'm not becoming "religious," "observant," or crazy(er). I'm simply accepting a gift. A metaphor, of which I am rather proud of being the progenitress, goes as follows:
If someone wants to give you a huge pile of gifts, they can do it one of two ways. They can give you all of them at once, resulting in the pile either crushing you into a pancake or collecting dust in a broom closet. They could also choose to give them to you one at a time, thereby letting you enjoy unwrapping them and take your time integrating them into your life. "Please, sir, can I have some more?"
2) Rabbi Manis Friedman
When orthodox women go to medical school, they touch men. It is a part of their job. The same goes for orthodox men, which is why everybody likes to use the example of the orthodox male gynecologist (seriously, there is one in New York City, or so they say). And the same goes for dancers. Touch between men and women is a part of the job.
Dance is not spiritual. It is just dance. A sculptor takes a block of marble and chips away at it until it becomes a statue. A singer uses her voice to produce a song. The sculptor is taking something mundane (a rock), and gives "life" to something hidden because he has talent. The singer puts breath into her body and her talent makes that music beautiful. Anyone can throw paint at a canvas, but a talented painter can make you think you're looking out of a window. These talented people may enjoy revealing beauty in the mudane (hopefully), but they are not praying.
Talent is just the bridge between ordinary and extraordinary. The dancer takes her body, gives it breath and because of her talent (and years of hard work and obsessive dedication), the result is extraordinary. I don't "have" to dance; I "want" to dance. That's why I keep saying "but I'm not confused when I enter the studio." That's because it is a job. I mean, I did say I wanted to dance professionally...
That being said, even at a wedding we're not elevating sparks. Hashem is not carrying us around the bride. We want to dance. We are not compelled to dance. Both Giselle and Victoria Paige were emotionally unstable.
While I don't have the capacity to become a tzadik (I can and have eaten unwashed and unelevated strawberries. gasp!), I do have the capacity to become a benoni, as do we all. So I have a talent. It's ok to use it as long as I do so in ways that are respectful toward my physical body and the world around it. I can dance in the secular world and still be a good person who is choosing not to transgress.
(*Warning* Rant on SYTYCD coming up...)
I may even have the opportunity to curb some of the vulgarity in the dance world. (I mean, "So You Think You Can Dance" was more like "So You Think You Can See My Crotch" this year. There were at least 10 slow motion side splits per episode. Those cameramen must have had a great time.) Intentional "vulgarity" used to make a statement (Michaelangelo is not considered a pornographer) is one thing, but "being sexy" is not the same as being objectified. One is a choice by the performer and the other is imposed by the viewer. The viewer can never know performer intent, but the choreographer can define the context in which the performance can be viewed. (Of course, in the case of SYTYCD, the choreographers are at the mercy of the producers, who are at the mercy of FOX television, who are is at the mercy of millions of viewers, who are at the mercy of the Hollywood aesthetic, etc... Would the guys have done better in the finale if they'd been wearing speedos? Boxers may have been a big deal for Tadd, but bras and bikinis were the standard uniform for the ladies. Wait a minute... didn't Nigel all but force Caitlyn to sexually mature in a matter of weeks on national television? yicko!) Sex sells, but I still find barely covered crotches in family television vulgar and something not to be desensitized about. Sadly, we get used to this in the dance world. Maybe I should go comment on a NYTimes article. Ok now I'm going to be held accountable... oy vey... tikkun or crazy?
***
Conclusion: I'm not being hypocritical by staying in the secular dance world and teaching dance to frum women. When you look at the programing at the venues I'm trying to teach at, there are no dance classes. So I'm still attending to a dearse even as I slowly accept gifts. And the beauty of it all comes from the fact that I am neither teaching men nor teaching someone else to teach them. (Well, not yet anyway...)
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Follow-up appointments
Hi folks!
First of all, I want to thank you for your beautiful messages and for inspiring me to share my stories.
Second, I know I left a bunch of cliff hangers in these posts. If you're dying to find out what happened, leave a comment below and I'll fill you in. So many stories, so few fingers...
Much love,
Syd
p.s. stay tuned. I have a feeling some amazing things are about to go down at the National Jewish Retreat :)
First of all, I want to thank you for your beautiful messages and for inspiring me to share my stories.
Second, I know I left a bunch of cliff hangers in these posts. If you're dying to find out what happened, leave a comment below and I'll fill you in. So many stories, so few fingers...
Much love,
Syd
p.s. stay tuned. I have a feeling some amazing things are about to go down at the National Jewish Retreat :)
Land a plane, strike a match
That was so cute. I was feeling sick as I left Israel, then as soon as I hit NYC turf, I started dancing, itching to move, to be greater than the limits of my skin. I'd been wondering where that had gone. Of course, I never sat still for that long in Israel... :)
Yep. I really do <3 ny.
But I also <3 Israel. They're both so different. They complement and complete each other. One is not better than the other (for me right now anyway). I mean, they took my people here too, and even in Eretz Yisroel we're still in exile.
__________________
A few thoughts upon returning:
I feel like my whole flight was sanctified. It rained on both ends. And the last holy city I was in was tiveria. Wow.
------
The retreat is like my Malava malca:) I get to ease my way back into NYC, cold turkey in or out is dangerous. (that's why Kabbalat shabbat is there:)
------
Hmm... Pop music is so much better here. Granted half of what was on the radio was American, but it was all techno. Sounds the same after a while, although you can say the same thing about hip hop... And not everybody likes the "uhyuhyui" sarit hadad (but I do, and so do the karmel falafel joint people, and the group camping on kof amnon).
----
My one regret (truly, I have no others, it's amazing:) is that I didn't film Ehad Ani Yodea for you. Granted, since I'm publicizing this I'd be more likely to get caught infringing on the copyright, but that was definitely one of the most powerful and exhilarating experiences of my trip. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to get into the ensemble, make Aliyah and make you pay to see me perform the piece;)
Yep. I really do <3 ny.
But I also <3 Israel. They're both so different. They complement and complete each other. One is not better than the other (for me right now anyway). I mean, they took my people here too, and even in Eretz Yisroel we're still in exile.
__________________
A few thoughts upon returning:
I feel like my whole flight was sanctified. It rained on both ends. And the last holy city I was in was tiveria. Wow.
------
The retreat is like my Malava malca:) I get to ease my way back into NYC, cold turkey in or out is dangerous. (that's why Kabbalat shabbat is there:)
------
Hmm... Pop music is so much better here. Granted half of what was on the radio was American, but it was all techno. Sounds the same after a while, although you can say the same thing about hip hop... And not everybody likes the "uhyuhyui" sarit hadad (but I do, and so do the karmel falafel joint people, and the group camping on kof amnon).
----
My one regret (truly, I have no others, it's amazing:) is that I didn't film Ehad Ani Yodea for you. Granted, since I'm publicizing this I'd be more likely to get caught infringing on the copyright, but that was definitely one of the most powerful and exhilarating experiences of my trip. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to get into the ensemble, make Aliyah and make you pay to see me perform the piece;)
Conduction aphasia
Apparently, Israel cries when I leave (happened on Birthright too). Although the tears might be tears of joy and not sadness. Maybe she knows I'll be back soon :) At any rate, she needs the water.
And apparently, I'm much more open now. Shani came back (right as I was leaving at 4am) and the first thing she said was how relaxed I looked, even when I felt stressed out about packing. A group of young Israeli boys at the train station also picked up on that. It's a shame they didn't ask which way the train was going. If I'd known, I might have had company during the ride. Oh well. C'est la vie.
And why didn't I ask if she spoke French? I bet she did. When looking for the tachana hamerkazit, the person I asked for directions asked me if I spoke English. I said yes. Then she asked me if I spoke Spanish. I said yes, poqito, mais je ne peut pas revenir l'espagnol. I tried and tried but all I could think of was french!! She asked me to say something to prove I spoke Spanish but I was a total blank. Eventually, she just walked me down the block until I saw the golden arches. I guess 6 years of suffering paid off. Madame's scare tactics obviously did something to my wernike's area. I see three semesters of Spanish at pton weren't so helpful after all, unless you count their reinforcement of French. Honestly. I'll never understand that one.
And apparently, I'm much more open now. Shani came back (right as I was leaving at 4am) and the first thing she said was how relaxed I looked, even when I felt stressed out about packing. A group of young Israeli boys at the train station also picked up on that. It's a shame they didn't ask which way the train was going. If I'd known, I might have had company during the ride. Oh well. C'est la vie.
And why didn't I ask if she spoke French? I bet she did. When looking for the tachana hamerkazit, the person I asked for directions asked me if I spoke English. I said yes. Then she asked me if I spoke Spanish. I said yes, poqito, mais je ne peut pas revenir l'espagnol. I tried and tried but all I could think of was french!! She asked me to say something to prove I spoke Spanish but I was a total blank. Eventually, she just walked me down the block until I saw the golden arches. I guess 6 years of suffering paid off. Madame's scare tactics obviously did something to my wernike's area. I see three semesters of Spanish at pton weren't so helpful after all, unless you count their reinforcement of French. Honestly. I'll never understand that one.
Don't let it get away!
As I was leaving the women's kollel in Chevron on Thursday, I did some math and realized that if I was going to make it to Kof Amnon (a beach on the Kineret) by sundown I was going to have to get on a bus to Yerushalayim asap, a bus which had just passed by the stop in Chevron. As it turned out, about 5 minutes out of Chevron in Kiryat Arba we saw the bus to Yerushalayim. We jumped out of the car and raced after the bus. I figured that if I was going to get anywhere up North I would have to start my journey now (3pm) and if all my plans fell apart I'd figure something out.
So I started making phone calls. I had called a friend I was supposed to go camping with while walking through the Arab quarter in Chevron (don't ask) who said the plans fell through but I could call these two people who might want to go camping. I called and both were going to weddings, but one offered to lend me a sleeping bag (logistics would have been impossible). So I called another friend with whom I had agreed to go camping with originally and said "do you want to go camping tonight?" She said she'd work it out and call me back later.
I get on a bus to Tiveria from the Jerusalem central bus station and call Big Mo about shabbos. Turns out the family I was going to stay with in the golan was in america, but that i could call this other person. I called and they said they didn't have room but that i could call this other person, who was a bit weird. I called Big Mo and he said these other "weird" people were actually very nice (inspiring artists = weird apparently ;) and I should call them. So I called them and they said they weren't planning to have anyone but I could call this other person to see if i could come for dinner. this other person was the first person I called and they said i could come for lunch on saturday.
As it turned out, the only reason I had a place to sleep with the not-lunch people is because the person I was going camping with had wanted to bring her five camping buddies with her (it was a two bedroom apartment, although this has been done before). When the not-lunch "weird" people said they weren't doing a big shabbos this week and that they could do shabbos camping on this nice beach nearby, they ended up with a place for me to sleep. And the dinner was lovely. But I'm getting ahead of myself...
Do not travel on Thursday afternoons or Sunday mornings in Israel. Well, duh. Shabbos. So this 4:20-7 bus didn't make it in to Tiveria until 8:30. The free bus around the kineret stops running at 8. The bus to Kiryat Shemona doesn't get there until 9:40 (and I only knew this because there were people at the bus stop who assured me it was going to come, despite the fact that it was not on the schedule). Of course, all of this could have been prevented if I'd gotten on the Kiryat Shemona bus in Jerusalem. Maybe.
Even though we missed the sunset, my friend, her friend and I camped out on the grass under the stars, talking nearly all through the night and catching the sunrise behind us (we were on the East side of the Kineret. View's better from Tiveria.) I actually have some photos and video from this adventure, which I'll post as soon as I can get my camera to work...
Long story short, I made my way to Tsfat in the morning, finally found a bookstore that had (a huge stack of) Jewish Meditation, picked up a small Tehilat Hashem siddur (so glad I have that), and made my way up the other hill to Juliet for shakra cleansing round two.
Shabbos in Tiveria (with, as it turned out, both of the two English speaking Chabad families in town) was calm and relaxing, the bus to Tel Aviv was chill, packed up and overlapped with Shani's arrival around 4am, then headed out to Ben Gurion for yet another uneventful travel excursion. Who knew transportation could be so un-dramatic? Un-wild...
So I started making phone calls. I had called a friend I was supposed to go camping with while walking through the Arab quarter in Chevron (don't ask) who said the plans fell through but I could call these two people who might want to go camping. I called and both were going to weddings, but one offered to lend me a sleeping bag (logistics would have been impossible). So I called another friend with whom I had agreed to go camping with originally and said "do you want to go camping tonight?" She said she'd work it out and call me back later.
I get on a bus to Tiveria from the Jerusalem central bus station and call Big Mo about shabbos. Turns out the family I was going to stay with in the golan was in america, but that i could call this other person. I called and they said they didn't have room but that i could call this other person, who was a bit weird. I called Big Mo and he said these other "weird" people were actually very nice (inspiring artists = weird apparently ;) and I should call them. So I called them and they said they weren't planning to have anyone but I could call this other person to see if i could come for dinner. this other person was the first person I called and they said i could come for lunch on saturday.
As it turned out, the only reason I had a place to sleep with the not-lunch people is because the person I was going camping with had wanted to bring her five camping buddies with her (it was a two bedroom apartment, although this has been done before). When the not-lunch "weird" people said they weren't doing a big shabbos this week and that they could do shabbos camping on this nice beach nearby, they ended up with a place for me to sleep. And the dinner was lovely. But I'm getting ahead of myself...
Do not travel on Thursday afternoons or Sunday mornings in Israel. Well, duh. Shabbos. So this 4:20-7 bus didn't make it in to Tiveria until 8:30. The free bus around the kineret stops running at 8. The bus to Kiryat Shemona doesn't get there until 9:40 (and I only knew this because there were people at the bus stop who assured me it was going to come, despite the fact that it was not on the schedule). Of course, all of this could have been prevented if I'd gotten on the Kiryat Shemona bus in Jerusalem. Maybe.
Even though we missed the sunset, my friend, her friend and I camped out on the grass under the stars, talking nearly all through the night and catching the sunrise behind us (we were on the East side of the Kineret. View's better from Tiveria.) I actually have some photos and video from this adventure, which I'll post as soon as I can get my camera to work...
Long story short, I made my way to Tsfat in the morning, finally found a bookstore that had (a huge stack of) Jewish Meditation, picked up a small Tehilat Hashem siddur (so glad I have that), and made my way up the other hill to Juliet for shakra cleansing round two.
Shabbos in Tiveria (with, as it turned out, both of the two English speaking Chabad families in town) was calm and relaxing, the bus to Tel Aviv was chill, packed up and overlapped with Shani's arrival around 4am, then headed out to Ben Gurion for yet another uneventful travel excursion. Who knew transportation could be so un-dramatic? Un-wild...
DON'T PANIC
I should meditate on that one.
----
Chassidus is psychology infused with spirituality. It's like someone has already put gaga into form. Time is precious. You can spend it reinventing the wheel but you don't have to. It's much more fun attaching the wheel to a car and driving somewhere. Although I suppose you might appreciate the car more if you have to buy it than if someone just gives it to you.
-------
I made a "mistake." Hashem said "ok, so you made a mistake. I'll give you a chance to do something good with it." I heard and then I chose not to listen. And then I chose to take something "bad" and make it worse. That's a lot of choices. Boy is free will a responsibility...
----------
2) sometimes I just have to trust Hashem and have patience through the "bad" stuff. With some hindsight, it's probably not so bad, so why waste the time feeling sorry for myself when I could be making good use of the wait?
1) "Sometimes you meet people because they have to give you a message." My roommate said I have to forgive myself (she also said the thing about messengers, a message she got the day before). Ok, so all this happened. It's not my fault, it's not a bad thing and it's not something to be "faulty" about (couldn't figure out a better way to say this). What is my "fault" is how I handled it.
Next time, I will try not to take myself (and this journey) so seriously. I need to learn to laugh at myself. Life really is funny, for the most part. And I will cleanse my shakras sooner after an event before I become a vessel for this energy and curdle. "Even if I'm sensitive, so what? I deeply and completely love myself and I accept myself without judgment." Now, is this really something that's supposed to hurt me?
In hindsight, my time in tel aviv wasn't such a waste. So I lost 143 shekels. I'll grade some extra essays when I get back. Maybe something good happened to the cab driver after I left. If not, maybe I avoided something bad. Maybe he was really there to help somebody else who needed him and by staying I would have prevented it. Maybe nothing happened. Who knows.
And does it really matter? If I tracked every flap of my wings I'd go crazy(er). I'd also be completely blind to what I was currently doing (wow. Talk about in-tense). "Even if I judge myself harshly, so what? I deeply and completely love myself an I accept myself without judgment." If you want, I'll teach you the shakra tapping pattern that goes with this when I get back to ny (note: I did not say "home";).
--------
And wednesday morning I got a call from Rachel inviting me to stay over in bat ayin with her and go to chevron with mirriam on Thursday. So, I could have left from tsfat Wednesday morning. I could have taken a bus straight from tel aviv-jafo hatackana hamerkazit. I could have done laundry in tafat. I could have learned a lesson from a messenger in tsfat. I could have this I could have that I could have ... "Even if I made a decision, so what? I deeply and completely love myself and I accept myself without judgment."
Getting on a bus is not inherently good or bad. It's just a choice. One of billions and billions that present themselves to me every moment of my life. It's all about what I make of it. I didn't necessarily run away from something. I wanted to run to something. When I got there, I discovered that what I was looking for wasn't there. "Even if I felt disappointed, so what? I deeply and completely love myself and I accept myself without judgment."
--------
And none of it matters anyway.
It's much more fun to bring the right cake to a good friend and to discover the best (aka cheapest) falafel in Jerusalem with an amazing rebbetzin who runs an amazing seminary to whom I was recommended by two new friends independently, one of which almost stayed with the family I stayed with this shabbat. Trippy...
--------
I'm growing into a very big niche in the frum world, but the only way I can fulfill my potential is my remaining in the secular world. I'll be able to travel, make a lucrative career out of dance and be able to create the work I want to create. And I have at least ten years to grow into this, or at least into the beginning of this. (I mean, can you really see a 23 year old teaching a seminar to hundreds of people? Go ahead, call me crazy, but I can...) Hmm, sounds like the original plan: dance and travel the world. Who knew this is what Hashem had in "mind?" (again with the anthropomorphisms, although I'm getting used to it again).
----
Chassidus is psychology infused with spirituality. It's like someone has already put gaga into form. Time is precious. You can spend it reinventing the wheel but you don't have to. It's much more fun attaching the wheel to a car and driving somewhere. Although I suppose you might appreciate the car more if you have to buy it than if someone just gives it to you.
-------
I made a "mistake." Hashem said "ok, so you made a mistake. I'll give you a chance to do something good with it." I heard and then I chose not to listen. And then I chose to take something "bad" and make it worse. That's a lot of choices. Boy is free will a responsibility...
----------
2) sometimes I just have to trust Hashem and have patience through the "bad" stuff. With some hindsight, it's probably not so bad, so why waste the time feeling sorry for myself when I could be making good use of the wait?
1) "Sometimes you meet people because they have to give you a message." My roommate said I have to forgive myself (she also said the thing about messengers, a message she got the day before). Ok, so all this happened. It's not my fault, it's not a bad thing and it's not something to be "faulty" about (couldn't figure out a better way to say this). What is my "fault" is how I handled it.
Next time, I will try not to take myself (and this journey) so seriously. I need to learn to laugh at myself. Life really is funny, for the most part. And I will cleanse my shakras sooner after an event before I become a vessel for this energy and curdle. "Even if I'm sensitive, so what? I deeply and completely love myself and I accept myself without judgment." Now, is this really something that's supposed to hurt me?
In hindsight, my time in tel aviv wasn't such a waste. So I lost 143 shekels. I'll grade some extra essays when I get back. Maybe something good happened to the cab driver after I left. If not, maybe I avoided something bad. Maybe he was really there to help somebody else who needed him and by staying I would have prevented it. Maybe nothing happened. Who knows.
And does it really matter? If I tracked every flap of my wings I'd go crazy(er). I'd also be completely blind to what I was currently doing (wow. Talk about in-tense). "Even if I judge myself harshly, so what? I deeply and completely love myself an I accept myself without judgment." If you want, I'll teach you the shakra tapping pattern that goes with this when I get back to ny (note: I did not say "home";).
--------
And wednesday morning I got a call from Rachel inviting me to stay over in bat ayin with her and go to chevron with mirriam on Thursday. So, I could have left from tsfat Wednesday morning. I could have taken a bus straight from tel aviv-jafo hatackana hamerkazit. I could have done laundry in tafat. I could have learned a lesson from a messenger in tsfat. I could have this I could have that I could have ... "Even if I made a decision, so what? I deeply and completely love myself and I accept myself without judgment."
Getting on a bus is not inherently good or bad. It's just a choice. One of billions and billions that present themselves to me every moment of my life. It's all about what I make of it. I didn't necessarily run away from something. I wanted to run to something. When I got there, I discovered that what I was looking for wasn't there. "Even if I felt disappointed, so what? I deeply and completely love myself and I accept myself without judgment."
--------
And none of it matters anyway.
It's much more fun to bring the right cake to a good friend and to discover the best (aka cheapest) falafel in Jerusalem with an amazing rebbetzin who runs an amazing seminary to whom I was recommended by two new friends independently, one of which almost stayed with the family I stayed with this shabbat. Trippy...
--------
I'm growing into a very big niche in the frum world, but the only way I can fulfill my potential is my remaining in the secular world. I'll be able to travel, make a lucrative career out of dance and be able to create the work I want to create. And I have at least ten years to grow into this, or at least into the beginning of this. (I mean, can you really see a 23 year old teaching a seminar to hundreds of people? Go ahead, call me crazy, but I can...) Hmm, sounds like the original plan: dance and travel the world. Who knew this is what Hashem had in "mind?" (again with the anthropomorphisms, although I'm getting used to it again).
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