(Friday night)
This is beyond wild. I am truly riding the waves of the universe. I usually avoid saying "coincidence" and instead say "being available to take advantage of opportunities." Here I'm not even choosing. Thank you, Ohad.
----------------
So I get off the bus in Hebron, the driver tells the last passenger to get off with me and help me figure out how to get to where I was going. Ok. So she doesn't know where she's going, let alone where I'm going, but that doesn't seem to be a problem for reasons incomprehensible.
Someone drives by and gives directions. Turns out he's the guy Natalie's eating shabbos dinner with in a few hours. We find Batsheva Cohen, the schluchos everybody everywhere knows, who has no accent and isn't expecting me. Batya Cohen, with the accent, isn't expecting me (she gave us a cup of water). We call the number I called a few days ago and got a well known artist in kiriat arba, who was neither a Cohen nor expecting me (the busses had stopped anyway).
So... I go to Natalie's shabbos dinner person's house (he also gave us a cup of water). And then we end up at natalie's sleep place, where we get a cup of water and a piece of carrot cake. Turns out, the girl who was supposed to come with Natalie bailed, so I actually did have a place to sleep. Turns out, Natalie works for Ascent of Tsfat and got me on the list for next weekend. Turns out, she knows the Brooklyn Heights schliach and was at the wedding of my soul sista (and has known her for a long time). And we can relate via our spiritual journeys. And she studied butoh. And she loves batsheva. And I'm going to light candles now...
-----------
(Sunday afternoon)
Wow. Just wow. I've said that so many times these past two days my mouth hurts just forming the words. A wise (also new, also obscenely connected to people I know) friend suggested "oh la la," but it's hard to break a habit. As I sit here on the floor of a used bookshop in Jerusalem's famous Ben Yehuda street shopping district reading about soviet Jewish identity (amazing choreographic inspiration in Wiesel's depiction, as well as a quieting conception of what it means to be a Jew), the vindictive sublimation of women along side that of an ancient affinity for goddess worship/feminine anthropomorphism, and chassidus -- oy vey cappuccino.
Rewind: I spent shabbat in Chevron. I was told it would be an experience, that it would be amazing, and it was.
I davened maariv at the Me'arat Hamachpelah, the burial place of the patriarchs and the matriarchs (minus Rachel). It was something else. To get there you have to walk down a narrow street lined with soldiers, bordered a stone's throw away on both sides by Arab occupied land (from which much more than stones has been thrown, horrifyingly many times), pass by the seventh step, the closest point to the actual burial site on the jewish side (the Arab side holds the keys to the actual caves, supposedly to protect anyone from going down there and never returning, as the legends go and there are many), and wind your way through the many partitioned-off minyanim all throughout the cramped stone courtyard of the citadel (built over the Me'arat Hamachpelah by king Herod).
The ruach of the Carlbach minyan sharply contrasted the solemn walk between this holy place and the homes of the 30 families who live there. It was bizarre to tiptoe down the street while on both sides the sounds of fireworks broke the sticky quiet.
I have nothing against Muslims celebrating the coming of Ramadan, just perhaps this isn't exactly the best place to start blowing stuff up in the night. Worse, this is the last shabbat for a month that the Jews will have access to the citadel at all: 10 days out of the year the Arabs control the entire building and four of them are on their way. I like to think the best of people, to think that the whole isn't always the sum of its parts, but this isn't the kind of situation that lends itself to saintly thoughts.
After shul, I had dinner with breslovs for the first time (they were the normal kind, not the nanachs). I have never heard kiddish sung like that in my life. Every word was precious and I really felt the blessings being brought down and given out to the family and friends at the shabbos table. It was so beautiful and so on my wavelength right now (thank you elusive Kaplan -- seriously, for a famous book that everybody has, why is it so hard to find?).
Of course, I was the only person who didn't speak Hebrew, and of course when the husband and wife took some time to get to know me the whole dance thing came up along with the usual exhausting circles that I had made peace with just seven days before. It takes time to change but recognizing the habit as it occurs is a prerequisite to prevention/cessation.
Speaking of listening to that which you already know (awkward segue, bear with me), I spent shabbos day with a group of young women from Machon Alte (thank you, Natalie!), one of the seminaries I wanted to check out while I was in Israel.
After lunch, I joined them in a teeny tiny reconstructed synagogue for a farbrengum (still not exactly sure what that is. This was a lecture, not table thumping group therapy, but I'm sure with a little patience...), where a rabbi talked about the importance of listening, particularly in situations where you've already heard what it is you're listening too, among other things.
As that resonated with me, I also enjoyed watching these young ladies ask challenging and thoughtful questions and shamelessly pointing out when the rabbi make a mistake. I also noted how very much I didn't know. These women were versed in Torah and Talmud. To say the least, I was shamefully impressed.
I finished off the day with a tour of Chevron with a spectacular tour guide. What a treat! That is, if you can call walking through the many spots of murder and massacre that riddle the Jewish quarter a treat.
After a strange havdalah expedition (it's really ok to leave it at that, really) and missing the only bus out of Hebron, I hitched a ride to Jerusalem and found my way to the loft of a friend of a girl I had met just as I was about to leave Suzanne Dellal on Friday afternoon (and with whom I'm having coffee in about 6 hours to discuss her reconciliation of orthodox Judaism with gaga), a religious guy who lives a block from mahane yehuda and doesn't have a problem with female guests.
9 hours later, I bid the ex-lawyer who started Jewlicious (check facebook) adieu and embarked on yet another chapter of this post gaga workshop expedition. Having failed once again to find Chani's chocolate chocolate cake in the fridge with the sprinkles on top, rediscovering the insanely ridiculously mindblowingly best ruguleh in the world (marzipan. 9th wonder of the world. I think they're trying to make something else in Israel the 8th. Good thing sufgnyiot's out of season or my attempt to avoid dance classes for two weeks might have to be reconsidered) and learning how to ask for a cappuccino without sugar, I set out to find a copy of Jewish Meditation (would you believe it if I told you none of the bookshops in Tel Aviv had it?).
And while I'm probably going to have to wait until next week to buy it in Tsfat, I ended up having another life-altering adventure that left me with a few other books (history and philosophy of the Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, a practical guide to halackah, the Wiesel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, Tehillim and Special Prayers for Special Occasions that further breached the gap between me and wii) that will welcome the Kaplan with open arms, so to anthropomorphize.
Surf's up.
_________________
Why does the Torah begin with the second letter of the Hebrew alphabet? To show you that you don't even know the first thing about it. -Baal Shem Tov
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Obscenely quick update.
Final day of gaga intensive tomorrow. Busses to chevron for shabbat. Learning, dancing and davening with someone amazing by association wedsensday. Ascent of tsfat next shabbos. Trying to squeeze a day or so of mayanot in there. Netanya and Tiberius/galilee/a little more tel aviv could take me to next week. That's a mystery now. And that's chaval achshav! (weird Israeli obsession with "now" is something else... :)
I wish I could extend my trip. I feel I don't have enough time to dig into something and not just be a tourist, but Sinai Scholars has already in paid for my retreat (I mentioned that already, right?) and I have too much unfinished business to run away. It's tempting, though. But inside I know Israel is not the place to run away to but the place I should run to when I'm ready (unexpected luxury of exile, no?)
Ps whoever wants a live performance of the most amazing dance a Passover song has ever been in dialogue with, invite me to your Seder.
Pss. Please ignore the prepositions. You know what I mean if they bother you too.
Psss. Tel aviv movie theaters run on chabad time
I wish I could extend my trip. I feel I don't have enough time to dig into something and not just be a tourist, but Sinai Scholars has already in paid for my retreat (I mentioned that already, right?) and I have too much unfinished business to run away. It's tempting, though. But inside I know Israel is not the place to run away to but the place I should run to when I'm ready (unexpected luxury of exile, no?)
Ps whoever wants a live performance of the most amazing dance a Passover song has ever been in dialogue with, invite me to your Seder.
Pss. Please ignore the prepositions. You know what I mean if they bother you too.
Psss. Tel aviv movie theaters run on chabad time
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Oh, that's what I meant to tell you...
I have the memory of a goldfish... I almost forgot who I was talking to!!!
This all happened shabbos morning. Someone said to me we pray toward yerushalayim in the US and the kotel in yerushalayim because it's a holy place and we're drawing energy from this place into us. Between realizing that this has been an "energy bank" for my people for thousands of years (I felt that at the kotel too, like something was flowing into my head and being pulled out of my hands), crying as I connected to prayer as I davened as I had never felt before, and then opening kaplan's book to a section that started to answer all my questions as no one (book or person) had before, the floodgates just opened (along with the waterworks) and I got it.
:)
This all happened shabbos morning. Someone said to me we pray toward yerushalayim in the US and the kotel in yerushalayim because it's a holy place and we're drawing energy from this place into us. Between realizing that this has been an "energy bank" for my people for thousands of years (I felt that at the kotel too, like something was flowing into my head and being pulled out of my hands), crying as I connected to prayer as I davened as I had never felt before, and then opening kaplan's book to a section that started to answer all my questions as no one (book or person) had before, the floodgates just opened (along with the waterworks) and I got it.
:)
I got it!
Dear A,
I got it.
You were absolutely right. I know Hashem [lit. the name]. We've been friends for a while :) It's that inexplicable force that comes from an inexplicable place inside me that makes me dance, that makes me have to dance, that makes me get up in the morning and move through the world. Judaism is a way of connecting to this whatever-it-is abstract non-thing. I and everybody else will never really know whether Hashem spoke through Moshe or a group of unfathomably genius individuals. On the other hand, it doesn't really matter so much to me anymore. Whatever it was that compelled them to write such a book is no doubt the same "whatever" (I'm working hard to avoid anthropomorphising. That's been part of the problem for me) that I know.
It's easy to know and be close to that someth-- when I'm dancing. A studio, a grassy field, a theater; these are all places where I know Hashem. It's like walking into a shul to pray when, as a woman, this road map for a particular life (looks like a pretty good one too) let's us pray from anywhere [feminists, hold your horses. I'm one of you too]
On Shabbat, we go out of our way to not create. All week, we create, we work hard to make money, to buy food and cook it (microwaves so count), to use whatever means necessary/desirable to transport us from one place to another (on time). If we fall down we put neosporin on our knees and return to what we were doing. When people tell us the produce of our hands is good, we can become egoistical and feel like gods. On Shabbat, we go out of our way to not feel like gods. We don't go into our place (physically or mentally) of work. We don't make fire. We don't tear toilet paper (still sounds a little weird but it keeps the bathroom holy in a tangible way, holy meaning different). We walk up fourteen flights of stairs (gotta burn those shabbos calories anyway). And so on and so on...
All of these things are ways of reminding us of this w-I-I (not quite ready to use colloquial terms yet). I can know I have this ____ that drives me to dance but it's way to easy to forget about it, to take it for granted. So going out of my way to eat differently, dress differently, stop what I'm doing to pray three times a day (not quite there yet. Starting with modeh ani, shema and mezzuzot), and so on are ways for me to remember I'm not really alone, that I always have support, that I'm so lucky to know this beautiful wonderful wii (oy vey... ;)
I know this because no computer could ever be able to create this awareness of wii. We may one day be able to build robots with free will, but can we really program this wii into a machine? This wii that we cannot build or name with our fathomable toolbox? If that permeates our universe as much as it permeates you or me, then heaven may be an anthropomorphism and that wii that makes me walk, breathe, employ helper T-cells is my soul. Can there really be anything more beautiful and awesome as this? A soul needs a body in order to feel, to sense the world, to interpret external stimuli and create a multidimensional experience. What a gift! And how easy it is to forget about it as I drag my heavy feet and struggle through the mundane.
So... This whole journey is really very simple: find the things, the rituals, the places, the people that remind me this wii is here. It's not about extremes nor is it about sacrifice. It can be about adapting to the framework of a community should that become what I feel I need in order to connect but that's no more right or wrong than choosing my last and first words of every day.
It's also about adventuring. Habits are what make me forget. I've learned how to make every tendu different from the thousands I've done before. Taking that lesson and applying it to everything I do sounds like a pretty good life journey. One with no end. Which is good because it's usually a let down to see what's on the other side of the mountain.
So shavuah tov. And "Jewish meditation" by aryeh Kaplan. Pages 105-116 ish
I got it.
You were absolutely right. I know Hashem [lit. the name]. We've been friends for a while :) It's that inexplicable force that comes from an inexplicable place inside me that makes me dance, that makes me have to dance, that makes me get up in the morning and move through the world. Judaism is a way of connecting to this whatever-it-is abstract non-thing. I and everybody else will never really know whether Hashem spoke through Moshe or a group of unfathomably genius individuals. On the other hand, it doesn't really matter so much to me anymore. Whatever it was that compelled them to write such a book is no doubt the same "whatever" (I'm working hard to avoid anthropomorphising. That's been part of the problem for me) that I know.
It's easy to know and be close to that someth-- when I'm dancing. A studio, a grassy field, a theater; these are all places where I know Hashem. It's like walking into a shul to pray when, as a woman, this road map for a particular life (looks like a pretty good one too) let's us pray from anywhere [feminists, hold your horses. I'm one of you too]
On Shabbat, we go out of our way to not create. All week, we create, we work hard to make money, to buy food and cook it (microwaves so count), to use whatever means necessary/desirable to transport us from one place to another (on time). If we fall down we put neosporin on our knees and return to what we were doing. When people tell us the produce of our hands is good, we can become egoistical and feel like gods. On Shabbat, we go out of our way to not feel like gods. We don't go into our place (physically or mentally) of work. We don't make fire. We don't tear toilet paper (still sounds a little weird but it keeps the bathroom holy in a tangible way, holy meaning different). We walk up fourteen flights of stairs (gotta burn those shabbos calories anyway). And so on and so on...
All of these things are ways of reminding us of this w-I-I (not quite ready to use colloquial terms yet). I can know I have this ____ that drives me to dance but it's way to easy to forget about it, to take it for granted. So going out of my way to eat differently, dress differently, stop what I'm doing to pray three times a day (not quite there yet. Starting with modeh ani, shema and mezzuzot), and so on are ways for me to remember I'm not really alone, that I always have support, that I'm so lucky to know this beautiful wonderful wii (oy vey... ;)
I know this because no computer could ever be able to create this awareness of wii. We may one day be able to build robots with free will, but can we really program this wii into a machine? This wii that we cannot build or name with our fathomable toolbox? If that permeates our universe as much as it permeates you or me, then heaven may be an anthropomorphism and that wii that makes me walk, breathe, employ helper T-cells is my soul. Can there really be anything more beautiful and awesome as this? A soul needs a body in order to feel, to sense the world, to interpret external stimuli and create a multidimensional experience. What a gift! And how easy it is to forget about it as I drag my heavy feet and struggle through the mundane.
So... This whole journey is really very simple: find the things, the rituals, the places, the people that remind me this wii is here. It's not about extremes nor is it about sacrifice. It can be about adapting to the framework of a community should that become what I feel I need in order to connect but that's no more right or wrong than choosing my last and first words of every day.
It's also about adventuring. Habits are what make me forget. I've learned how to make every tendu different from the thousands I've done before. Taking that lesson and applying it to everything I do sounds like a pretty good life journey. One with no end. Which is good because it's usually a let down to see what's on the other side of the mountain.
So shavuah tov. And "Jewish meditation" by aryeh Kaplan. Pages 105-116 ish
(Between you and me. And you.)
Some of my most passionate and honest words have been written to individuals. Conversations with many individuals have inspired this (rather long) collection.
I'll keep on keeping you posted as I connect my spiritual journey to my professional one. In the meantime, thank you and enjoy!
I'll keep on keeping you posted as I connect my spiritual journey to my professional one. In the meantime, thank you and enjoy!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
So here's what you missed on SSDP...
1) I got invited to a private Chabad event at haknesset [Israeli parliament] (where I was not only one of 4 guests without a Y-chromosome but also the only guest who spoke neither Hebrew nor Russian. Lesson: make friends wherever you go.)
2) had a rabbi tell me I was insecure and needed to take a leap of faith in order to be happy (hold that thought).
3) awkwardly introduced myself to Ohad (at least he remembered me :) then showed off my awesome improv skills at the jam.
4) spent another amazing Shabbat in Jerusalem.
4.5) see next post ...
5) watched the sunset over the Mediterranean while eating cucumbers and tomatoes. And ruguleh.
2) had a rabbi tell me I was insecure and needed to take a leap of faith in order to be happy (hold that thought).
3) awkwardly introduced myself to Ohad (at least he remembered me :) then showed off my awesome improv skills at the jam.
4) spent another amazing Shabbat in Jerusalem.
4.5) see next post ...
5) watched the sunset over the Mediterranean while eating cucumbers and tomatoes. And ruguleh.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Show me, don't tell me
I've been feeling particularly uninspired since my last post. I think this will help:
http://www.youtube.com/user/SydDanceThesis2010
Later, I'll tell you about the guy at the beach who said a brucha (blessing) over his vodka and had a beautiful understanding of his relationship with G-d. Maybe.
http://www.youtube.com/user/SydDanceThesis2010
Later, I'll tell you about the guy at the beach who said a brucha (blessing) over his vodka and had a beautiful understanding of his relationship with G-d. Maybe.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Ow
Just ow. I think reality just caught up with me. Too much sleep isn't enough;, too much lactic acid is too much.
In the Middle...
Dear reader,
So much has happened since I left New York last Thursday I hardly know where to begin. As the title intends to imply, I intend to skip the play-by-play and start the news coverage in the present. If I may, a recap:
-transportation drama
-Arrived in Tel Aviv bright and early on July 15th. Moved into my apartment and caught a bus to Jerusalem.
-enjoyed a magical shabbat and a magical birthday with wonderful people
-reveled in transportation drama (a motif)
-Sunday, day one of the gaga intensive: had classes with Ohad Naharin, the director of the company I'm all but dying to join, all day, and walked home not too much worse for wear.
-Monday I woke up bright and early to hop a bus back to Jerusalem to play hooky and attend a private event at the Knesset (Israeli parlament) as a vip. After exploring the Israel Museum's gorgeous gardens, all the famous souks, and savoring one overpriced shawarma all day, I spent a few hours talking to a rabbi who lives in the Old City just feet from the Kotel (Western Wall), discovered the central bus station closes by midnight (we're not in NYC anymore...) and had more transportation drama.
-today (finally!) I had an intense gaga day. I can hardly keep my eyes open even as I'm typing this out with my head an inch from my pillow. I've been sleeping really well here. Here's to another restorative and rejuvinating night.
Good. I'll flesh that out a bit more over the next few days, but for now we're all on page 19. 20 once I've finished reading it.
Xoxo,
Sydney
So much has happened since I left New York last Thursday I hardly know where to begin. As the title intends to imply, I intend to skip the play-by-play and start the news coverage in the present. If I may, a recap:
-transportation drama
-Arrived in Tel Aviv bright and early on July 15th. Moved into my apartment and caught a bus to Jerusalem.
-enjoyed a magical shabbat and a magical birthday with wonderful people
-reveled in transportation drama (a motif)
-Sunday, day one of the gaga intensive: had classes with Ohad Naharin, the director of the company I'm all but dying to join, all day, and walked home not too much worse for wear.
-Monday I woke up bright and early to hop a bus back to Jerusalem to play hooky and attend a private event at the Knesset (Israeli parlament) as a vip. After exploring the Israel Museum's gorgeous gardens, all the famous souks, and savoring one overpriced shawarma all day, I spent a few hours talking to a rabbi who lives in the Old City just feet from the Kotel (Western Wall), discovered the central bus station closes by midnight (we're not in NYC anymore...) and had more transportation drama.
-today (finally!) I had an intense gaga day. I can hardly keep my eyes open even as I'm typing this out with my head an inch from my pillow. I've been sleeping really well here. Here's to another restorative and rejuvinating night.
Good. I'll flesh that out a bit more over the next few days, but for now we're all on page 19. 20 once I've finished reading it.
Xoxo,
Sydney
Monday, July 18, 2011
Ready set go
Alright folks, I give in.
I've never kept a blog before. The idea of sharing the untempered particulars of my journey with everyone is a bit uncomfortable. At the same time, I believe this is going to be a lot more fun than running out of time to respond to everyone's individual inquiries and well-wishes.
Thank you for your love and support. Stay tuned for the first update...
Xoxo,
Sydney
p.s please pardon the typos. This blog is brought to you by itouch.
I've never kept a blog before. The idea of sharing the untempered particulars of my journey with everyone is a bit uncomfortable. At the same time, I believe this is going to be a lot more fun than running out of time to respond to everyone's individual inquiries and well-wishes.
Thank you for your love and support. Stay tuned for the first update...
Xoxo,
Sydney
p.s please pardon the typos. This blog is brought to you by itouch.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
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