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