Check out the article below from Scientific American about the evolution of domestic cats.
"It appears, that cats were being tamed just as humankind was establishing the first settlements in the part of the Middle East known as the Fertile Crescent."
"...cats most likely chose to live among humans because of opportunities they found for themselves."
"Some experts speculate that wildcats just so happened to possess features that might have preadapted them to developing a relationship with people. In particular, these cats have “cute” features—large eyes, a snub face and a high, round forehead, among others—that are known to elicit nurturing from humans."
"Thus introduced, cats could have established colonies in port cities and then fanned out from there."
"Unlike dogs, which exhibit a huge range of sizes, shapes and temperaments, house cats are relatively homogeneous, differing mostly in the characteristics of their coats. The reason for the relative lack of variability in cats is simple: humans have long bred dogs to assist with particular tasks, such as hunting or sled pulling, but cats, which lack any inclination for performing most tasks that would be useful to humans, experienced no such selective breeding pressures."
The Taming of the Cat
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Ruth and Shavout
I hope to write more on Shavout on Sunday but for now a few words of wisdom on the holiday and why we learn all night and read the book of Ruth, from 'A Fire Burns in Breslov'
1)Yalkut Shimoni: the Megillah describes people suffering and enduring difficulty and displaying great self sacrifice. This teaches that one can acquire Torah only through much toil and self sacrifice.
2)Chidah: Ruth demonstrates the punishment for selfishness and the importance of kindness. This teaches us that one can only accept the Torah if he does kind acts. A selfish person cannot learn truly learn Torah.
3)Likutei Halahchos: Ruth was the ancestor of David Hamelech. He was the paradigm of tefilah and humility, two absolute essentials without which one cannot learn Torah.
Chag Samach!!
1)Yalkut Shimoni: the Megillah describes people suffering and enduring difficulty and displaying great self sacrifice. This teaches that one can acquire Torah only through much toil and self sacrifice.
2)Chidah: Ruth demonstrates the punishment for selfishness and the importance of kindness. This teaches us that one can only accept the Torah if he does kind acts. A selfish person cannot learn truly learn Torah.
3)Likutei Halahchos: Ruth was the ancestor of David Hamelech. He was the paradigm of tefilah and humility, two absolute essentials without which one cannot learn Torah.
Chag Samach!!
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Past, Present and Future
We all use the past in order to interpret the present. Our current predicaments only make sense to us when put in the context of historical trends. We see present and future situations through the lens of our past deeds.
Recently I’ve begun to delve into my own past… but not just my own past, my families past, and not necessarily the individuals themselves but the trends. I’ve been doing my best to find out when my family is from, tracking down names, to towns and doing my best to put together a picture of where not just I come from but where my family comes from.
Why am I doing this? In some ways its pure nerdy fascination; I like stories, and creating one for myself and for my family is as interesting an intellectual exercise that I can do. In another line of thought we must know our own pasts or we will be doomed to repeat them. However in this case I’m studying historical trend, not individual choice so maybe it’s a little different. I guess the real reason is the more I explore my own very personal Jewish identity I crave some insight into where my family developed its own in the near past.
After a little digging, I found a rough outline. Basically my family is from the meeting point of present day Belarus, Poland and Ukraine. The borders have shifted and the towns’ names have changed but with some degree of reliability I found the sweet spot.
This is important to me personally because when you start to look into where your family is from you can examine the social trends of the day that may have influenced their lives. By social trends primarily what I’m talking about is the schools of Jewish thought that ran though this densely populated region of years in the 17th through 20th century and beyond.
This is amazing when you think about it. Due to the instability of the area, the relentless persecution of Jews and others for centuries and the dilapidation common to communist rule nothing should exist. But thanks to some very dedicated people there is a wealth of translated documents and names lists with town of origin to be dug though. I’m including links to a few sights I found helpful if you’re interested.
Enjoy the long weekend.
Jewish Web Index
Jewish Genealogy
Recently I’ve begun to delve into my own past… but not just my own past, my families past, and not necessarily the individuals themselves but the trends. I’ve been doing my best to find out when my family is from, tracking down names, to towns and doing my best to put together a picture of where not just I come from but where my family comes from.
Why am I doing this? In some ways its pure nerdy fascination; I like stories, and creating one for myself and for my family is as interesting an intellectual exercise that I can do. In another line of thought we must know our own pasts or we will be doomed to repeat them. However in this case I’m studying historical trend, not individual choice so maybe it’s a little different. I guess the real reason is the more I explore my own very personal Jewish identity I crave some insight into where my family developed its own in the near past.
After a little digging, I found a rough outline. Basically my family is from the meeting point of present day Belarus, Poland and Ukraine. The borders have shifted and the towns’ names have changed but with some degree of reliability I found the sweet spot.
This is important to me personally because when you start to look into where your family is from you can examine the social trends of the day that may have influenced their lives. By social trends primarily what I’m talking about is the schools of Jewish thought that ran though this densely populated region of years in the 17th through 20th century and beyond.
This is amazing when you think about it. Due to the instability of the area, the relentless persecution of Jews and others for centuries and the dilapidation common to communist rule nothing should exist. But thanks to some very dedicated people there is a wealth of translated documents and names lists with town of origin to be dug though. I’m including links to a few sights I found helpful if you’re interested.
Enjoy the long weekend.
Jewish Web Index
Jewish Genealogy
Monday, May 18, 2009
How many miles must we march
Moving on and moving forward, it’s so very hard sometimes. I find that as time moves on I increasingly find myself suspended between two worlds. I notice this when I go home most acutely. I feel like every time I go home after an extended time away there is an increasing feeling of alienation. I to a great extent no longer live in the same world as them, which is scary.
I do my best, to talk about ‘middle ground’ and yet I can’t help but see that ground disappearing. I know logically that it will never disappear entirely yet it’s no longer as large as it once was. I suppose that its natural, as a child grows up he/she grows away from their family. Eventually they create a family of their own, and with each generation ideas shift, every snowflake is different, every person seeks meaning, truth, beauty in their own ways.
I know I certainly have, but it’s just a little tiring, feeling like I’m going to be spending the rest of time explaining myself and my decisions to those who I love. It cannot be helped, it cannot be stopped. Ultimately I have to life with myself all the time; they only have to live with me for a few hours at a time.
But I’ve never been the type to keep my mouth shut and my opinions to myself, and when I hear an idea that is antithetical to my own beliefs, to my own sense of what is correct, I want to say something about it. I want to challenge the other person to a debate of ideas. I want the person to engage me in debate and conversation. I want to give that person a different way of viewing the subject and I want that person to do the same to me.
I like that sort of debate, I like a challenge put in front of me. I like it when other people insult me and put me on the spot. It turns me on; it gets my creative juices flowing, in a relentless quest for truth. Yet not everyone desires what I desire and it can be tricky to separate emotions from arguments and debates. Especially when we’re talking about things that dictate the way on chooses to live one’s life.
As you might imagine when I was home this weekend I got caught up in a debate with my Aunt about the merits (or lack thereof) of the reformation of Judaism. The thing for me is simple; I was never given anything from Synagogue growing up. It didn’t speak to me, I could never figure out the point of it. I always felt that there was something worthwhile to be had out of my heritage, it came out of me in weird ways, like the idea that Am Israel could not be killed we were histories ultimate survivors, we were at the heart of every great empire. Yet whenever I heard the Rabbi speak I felt nothing, I couldn’t understand what made us unique while he was prattling on about abortion, or the upcoming election, or whatever the notable issue of the moment was.
So I read, I explored the world, I felt by the end of college that I had a solid philosophy worked out for myself, yet still I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. When I went on Birthright and experienced the beauty of Friday night at the Kotel, when I was engaged by learned Torah students. I knew that there was something to my people then I had ever known.
Reform never gave me that, reform said to me; it’s okay to be just like everyone else. We don’t need the things that make us different. The Judaism I was given said, yes we’re all the same, but we’re all also very different, and that too is ok. So let’s be different while never forgetting that we all come from the same place that we all are made in the image of god. That resonated with me, that made sense to me and so that is what I gravitated to and that too is okay.
I accept that not everyone will see the world as I do, I don’t expect it to. Yet I do know something fundamental about human nature, which is simply this: we’re all completely convinced that we are right. If I didn't think that I was correct then I would live differently, I would think something else and I’d think that was right. So accept that others believe that they too are correct about the nature of the universe.
What I know is this: the universe is a big dark and mysterious place and we at best know almost nothing about anything. Yet we still must live as though we do and that’s all I’m trying to do, live as I see fit based on what I know.
Am Israel Chai! Am Israel Chai! Am Israel, Am Israel, Am Israel Chai!
I do my best, to talk about ‘middle ground’ and yet I can’t help but see that ground disappearing. I know logically that it will never disappear entirely yet it’s no longer as large as it once was. I suppose that its natural, as a child grows up he/she grows away from their family. Eventually they create a family of their own, and with each generation ideas shift, every snowflake is different, every person seeks meaning, truth, beauty in their own ways.
I know I certainly have, but it’s just a little tiring, feeling like I’m going to be spending the rest of time explaining myself and my decisions to those who I love. It cannot be helped, it cannot be stopped. Ultimately I have to life with myself all the time; they only have to live with me for a few hours at a time.
But I’ve never been the type to keep my mouth shut and my opinions to myself, and when I hear an idea that is antithetical to my own beliefs, to my own sense of what is correct, I want to say something about it. I want to challenge the other person to a debate of ideas. I want the person to engage me in debate and conversation. I want to give that person a different way of viewing the subject and I want that person to do the same to me.
I like that sort of debate, I like a challenge put in front of me. I like it when other people insult me and put me on the spot. It turns me on; it gets my creative juices flowing, in a relentless quest for truth. Yet not everyone desires what I desire and it can be tricky to separate emotions from arguments and debates. Especially when we’re talking about things that dictate the way on chooses to live one’s life.
As you might imagine when I was home this weekend I got caught up in a debate with my Aunt about the merits (or lack thereof) of the reformation of Judaism. The thing for me is simple; I was never given anything from Synagogue growing up. It didn’t speak to me, I could never figure out the point of it. I always felt that there was something worthwhile to be had out of my heritage, it came out of me in weird ways, like the idea that Am Israel could not be killed we were histories ultimate survivors, we were at the heart of every great empire. Yet whenever I heard the Rabbi speak I felt nothing, I couldn’t understand what made us unique while he was prattling on about abortion, or the upcoming election, or whatever the notable issue of the moment was.
So I read, I explored the world, I felt by the end of college that I had a solid philosophy worked out for myself, yet still I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. When I went on Birthright and experienced the beauty of Friday night at the Kotel, when I was engaged by learned Torah students. I knew that there was something to my people then I had ever known.
Reform never gave me that, reform said to me; it’s okay to be just like everyone else. We don’t need the things that make us different. The Judaism I was given said, yes we’re all the same, but we’re all also very different, and that too is ok. So let’s be different while never forgetting that we all come from the same place that we all are made in the image of god. That resonated with me, that made sense to me and so that is what I gravitated to and that too is okay.
I accept that not everyone will see the world as I do, I don’t expect it to. Yet I do know something fundamental about human nature, which is simply this: we’re all completely convinced that we are right. If I didn't think that I was correct then I would live differently, I would think something else and I’d think that was right. So accept that others believe that they too are correct about the nature of the universe.
What I know is this: the universe is a big dark and mysterious place and we at best know almost nothing about anything. Yet we still must live as though we do and that’s all I’m trying to do, live as I see fit based on what I know.
Am Israel Chai! Am Israel Chai! Am Israel, Am Israel, Am Israel Chai!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
When life gives you lemons
When life gives you lemons make lemonade… I’m an optimist it’s not something I was born with its an attitude that I’ve cultured over the last ten years or so. At one point in my life I came to a conclusion, 99% of what happens to me is outside of my control. I have very little say in most things. What I get to do is choose how I react to those situations.
Period.
I could never have predicted my path; I’m not the type that had his whole life planned out at ten years old unlike some friends of mine. I’ve never know where I was going, all I’ve tried to do is make decisions based on what I like to do. Based on what is most important to me. For me that means that almost all of my decisions come down to the following factors: family, Judaism and friends.
How does that have to do with being optimistic? Good question.
I think or what I’ve tried to cultivate in any case is no matter what happens around me I look at it through those two lenses. A past situation being: my job wasn’t exactly what I wanted. I hated working for a bank. I found it soulless. But my decision to do so opened up other doors. It allowed me to make great friends and explore New York City. The crash in the sub-prime mortgage market, forced me out of the finance industry and off to Israel; the subsequent trip lead to a new field and a new understanding of what it means for me to be both Jewish and an adult.
Along the way I was, am, and continue to be confused, hurt, etc. I do dwell on that, there are times I find it hard not to. But I am an optimist. It’s become a decision to make the best of what I have.
It’s a choice.
It’s not always an easy one to make. But I find that when I do make it, I react better to what is happening around me, which allows me to make better decisions and those better decisions lead me to better outcomes in the future Aad even when they don’t I’d still rather go around expecting the best, but hey that’s just me.
I’ll leave you with the immortal words of Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert:
Period.
I could never have predicted my path; I’m not the type that had his whole life planned out at ten years old unlike some friends of mine. I’ve never know where I was going, all I’ve tried to do is make decisions based on what I like to do. Based on what is most important to me. For me that means that almost all of my decisions come down to the following factors: family, Judaism and friends.
How does that have to do with being optimistic? Good question.
I think or what I’ve tried to cultivate in any case is no matter what happens around me I look at it through those two lenses. A past situation being: my job wasn’t exactly what I wanted. I hated working for a bank. I found it soulless. But my decision to do so opened up other doors. It allowed me to make great friends and explore New York City. The crash in the sub-prime mortgage market, forced me out of the finance industry and off to Israel; the subsequent trip lead to a new field and a new understanding of what it means for me to be both Jewish and an adult.
Along the way I was, am, and continue to be confused, hurt, etc. I do dwell on that, there are times I find it hard not to. But I am an optimist. It’s become a decision to make the best of what I have.
It’s a choice.
It’s not always an easy one to make. But I find that when I do make it, I react better to what is happening around me, which allows me to make better decisions and those better decisions lead me to better outcomes in the future Aad even when they don’t I’d still rather go around expecting the best, but hey that’s just me.
I’ll leave you with the immortal words of Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert:
Dogbert "well, look on the bright side, you know, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade"
Dilbert "I'm allergic to citrus"
Dogbert "well, look on the bright side, you know, when life gives you lemons, swell up and die"
Friday, May 8, 2009
Conforming
On Sunday I did something unprecedented, I made a deliberate decision to be more like the community I’m in.
I didn’t think about it until afterwards, it wasn’t on purpose. I went out and bought a tallis. I specifically wanted one that was just like the ones I see the men at the Kollel where I’ve been learning and davening wear.
It’s just your standard white with black stripes. But that’s not the point the point is that I could have gotten an all white one, or one with more color, they come in a variety of shapes and sizes. But what I went for was the standard orthodox one. I’ve really never done that before. I certainly have plenty of Jewish paraphernalia; some of it is very frum looking. But it’s not the thing itself it’s the intention behind it.
I want to be just like everyone around me in this case. I want people to look at me wearing my new tallis, which is beautiful and which I love wearing while I’m praying and make that association.
It’s a mitzvah that I now feel ready for. I remember putting one on for the first time feeling so awkward, I didn’t know how the wrap it around my shoulders, every time I moved it slid off. I was so confused with the ‘service’, I’m putting it in quotations because if you’ve ever walked into an orthodox shul you wouldn’t think of it as a service, everyone’s off doing their own thing, occasionally responding in unison to a Kaddish, or bring out the Torah. I could not keep my attention on my prayer. Now I wake up and throw it on, I wrap my tefillin and go though my morning routine. It’s so comfortable, so natural.
I’ve noticed that lately not just with my new tallis but in general. I started learning Gemara this week as well, after struggling though reading it the entire time I was in Jerusalem. Dreading when it was my turn to read after a while I didn’t even want to do it anymore. This time? I opened the book and started to read, yes I stumbled over words, and yes I had to take my time over some passages correcting pronunciation. But I did it, I just read it, and I’ve noticed in general that my Hebrew is starting to click now, slowly but surely this ancient, almost dead but now fully alive language is opening its secrets to me.
It’s a great feeling, and I’m not surprised. I know that without a good working knowledge of Hebrew I’ll never really feel like part of the community. So it’s no surprise that as I get more comfortable in my Hebrew I’m beginning to feel more connected to the community and vice versa.
I’m excited now about learning more, praying with the Kollel on Shabbat with my new tallis, looking just a tiny bit like the men that surround me. Often we spend our lives running away from what is best for us, only to stop one day and realize that which is best for us is that what we feared.
I am no longer afraid.
What I am is a sometimes struggling, confused, sometimes confident and clear Jew in the making and I LOVE my new tallis.
Shabbat Shalom.
I didn’t think about it until afterwards, it wasn’t on purpose. I went out and bought a tallis. I specifically wanted one that was just like the ones I see the men at the Kollel where I’ve been learning and davening wear.
It’s just your standard white with black stripes. But that’s not the point the point is that I could have gotten an all white one, or one with more color, they come in a variety of shapes and sizes. But what I went for was the standard orthodox one. I’ve really never done that before. I certainly have plenty of Jewish paraphernalia; some of it is very frum looking. But it’s not the thing itself it’s the intention behind it.
I want to be just like everyone around me in this case. I want people to look at me wearing my new tallis, which is beautiful and which I love wearing while I’m praying and make that association.
It’s a mitzvah that I now feel ready for. I remember putting one on for the first time feeling so awkward, I didn’t know how the wrap it around my shoulders, every time I moved it slid off. I was so confused with the ‘service’, I’m putting it in quotations because if you’ve ever walked into an orthodox shul you wouldn’t think of it as a service, everyone’s off doing their own thing, occasionally responding in unison to a Kaddish, or bring out the Torah. I could not keep my attention on my prayer. Now I wake up and throw it on, I wrap my tefillin and go though my morning routine. It’s so comfortable, so natural.
I’ve noticed that lately not just with my new tallis but in general. I started learning Gemara this week as well, after struggling though reading it the entire time I was in Jerusalem. Dreading when it was my turn to read after a while I didn’t even want to do it anymore. This time? I opened the book and started to read, yes I stumbled over words, and yes I had to take my time over some passages correcting pronunciation. But I did it, I just read it, and I’ve noticed in general that my Hebrew is starting to click now, slowly but surely this ancient, almost dead but now fully alive language is opening its secrets to me.
It’s a great feeling, and I’m not surprised. I know that without a good working knowledge of Hebrew I’ll never really feel like part of the community. So it’s no surprise that as I get more comfortable in my Hebrew I’m beginning to feel more connected to the community and vice versa.
I’m excited now about learning more, praying with the Kollel on Shabbat with my new tallis, looking just a tiny bit like the men that surround me. Often we spend our lives running away from what is best for us, only to stop one day and realize that which is best for us is that what we feared.
I am no longer afraid.
What I am is a sometimes struggling, confused, sometimes confident and clear Jew in the making and I LOVE my new tallis.
Shabbat Shalom.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Is anyone out there?
I didn't plan the name change, but for a while I had been thinking that the purpose and nature of this blog had fundamentally shifted.
Initially it was a way of reaching out from a foreign land. I knew that when I made the decision to go to Israel I was going to come home profoundly changed.
I wanted a record of that change, of that struggle. I wanted people who I care about, who I wasn't going to see for a long time to be able to know a little of what I was going though. Of the complexity of it.
Now I've settled into myself more. I've matured and grown, now my way is more focused, less chaotic. I'm road weary and yet still looking for adventure. I'm eager for the next challenges that await me.
I've grown up not just as a person but as a writer, a communicator (I hope). Either way I've come to enjoy the process immensely.
Lastly a special shout out must go to a good friend down in Longhorn country who came up first with 'A Maniac Mitzvah' when I asked everyone I knew for help coming up with a name for my new venture; and now for throwing an equally great idea at me with no prompting at all.
Thank you for listening.
Initially it was a way of reaching out from a foreign land. I knew that when I made the decision to go to Israel I was going to come home profoundly changed.
I wanted a record of that change, of that struggle. I wanted people who I care about, who I wasn't going to see for a long time to be able to know a little of what I was going though. Of the complexity of it.
Now I've settled into myself more. I've matured and grown, now my way is more focused, less chaotic. I'm road weary and yet still looking for adventure. I'm eager for the next challenges that await me.
I've grown up not just as a person but as a writer, a communicator (I hope). Either way I've come to enjoy the process immensely.
Lastly a special shout out must go to a good friend down in Longhorn country who came up first with 'A Maniac Mitzvah' when I asked everyone I knew for help coming up with a name for my new venture; and now for throwing an equally great idea at me with no prompting at all.
Thank you for listening.
Brighton
Three Shabbats and two weeks living in Boston and I’m wondering how time has moved so quickly. Just a little while ago I was in NJ wondering when I’d get a chance to begin really living again. Now I’m wondering if I’ll have enough time to do all the things I want to do.
Thank god for change, thank god for answered prayers. While pursuing a religious life I’ve found one important aspect of my understanding of the nature of god is recognizing when prayers are truly answered… and I know how this sounds but it’s been an important thing for me. After losing my job in NY I realized I just needed to get out of Jersey, to go somewhere else, to do something different.
So I prayed for it, hoped for it, believed it was possible.
I told god, just get me out of here, give me something new to do and I’ll take it from there, give me a little push, I’ll take it from there. That’s precisely what I got. On my way to Massachusetts I stopped in Connecticut and met an awesome guy while I was there, who oh yea lives a half mile away from me. I had a good friend introduce me to some of his friends in the area, and I’ve found a community that has opened its arms to me.
I’d call it an amazing coincidence but I know better than that by now. Does this all sound a bit mystical?
It should.
It is.
Far too often we fail to see what is right in front of our noses, we fail to recognize answered prayers, we fail to realize that we have the ability to seize opportunity and run with it. We fail to take responsibility for our own desires.
In Boston, I’ve found a community that has embraced me, not a fake me, but the real me. I’ve found people of great faith and character who I can be honest with about my strengths and failings. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I immersed myself in Israel, in Torah for ten months. Nine months in New Jersey removed from a community, healed or put distance from wounds inflicted by people who didn’t know any better.
Maybe it’s me, I know that over the course of time I’ve grown far more comfortable in my own practice, in my own ever changing sometimes contradictory philosophy. That must play some role, after all if you don’t like yourself, if you’re not comfortable with yourself how will others ever be able to accept you?
I’ve found great clarity in purpose…at least for the moment and I’ve made my own decisions about what is ultimately important to me.
It’s funny that I’m so taken with the Jewish community in the Brighton/Brookline area because it’s a much more relaxed community then New York. It’s smaller and more intimate. Everyone knows everyone.
Ironically this is a double negative; the exact reason that I like the community here so much more is the exact reason I like the city itself less. Boston is a sleepy college town, it’s quirky and cool, but ultimately it’s quiet. Whereas New York is the city that never sleeps, the big apple, you name it; it can be all things and everything to everyone.
I’ve been realizing that the hardest thing to do as a human being is to commit to something, not just for a week or a month but for years. When you stop saying this is what I’m doing for now in a year I’ll be… that’s when life gets scary. It’s easy to always be looking, to always be on the move. Hell it’s what I’ve done for the last four years and I’ve had a great time doing it.
I’ve seen and experienced much. I’m happy for those times but I’m also committed to here and now. To picking a shul, to picking a community and saying this is who I am, these are my friends and mentors and though I recognize the value of change, I also recognize the value of commitment and that’s what I’m doing now.
It’s what I was looking for…(or maybe I don’t know anything)
Thank god for change, thank god for answered prayers. While pursuing a religious life I’ve found one important aspect of my understanding of the nature of god is recognizing when prayers are truly answered… and I know how this sounds but it’s been an important thing for me. After losing my job in NY I realized I just needed to get out of Jersey, to go somewhere else, to do something different.
So I prayed for it, hoped for it, believed it was possible.
I told god, just get me out of here, give me something new to do and I’ll take it from there, give me a little push, I’ll take it from there. That’s precisely what I got. On my way to Massachusetts I stopped in Connecticut and met an awesome guy while I was there, who oh yea lives a half mile away from me. I had a good friend introduce me to some of his friends in the area, and I’ve found a community that has opened its arms to me.
I’d call it an amazing coincidence but I know better than that by now. Does this all sound a bit mystical?
It should.
It is.
Far too often we fail to see what is right in front of our noses, we fail to recognize answered prayers, we fail to realize that we have the ability to seize opportunity and run with it. We fail to take responsibility for our own desires.
In Boston, I’ve found a community that has embraced me, not a fake me, but the real me. I’ve found people of great faith and character who I can be honest with about my strengths and failings. I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I immersed myself in Israel, in Torah for ten months. Nine months in New Jersey removed from a community, healed or put distance from wounds inflicted by people who didn’t know any better.
Maybe it’s me, I know that over the course of time I’ve grown far more comfortable in my own practice, in my own ever changing sometimes contradictory philosophy. That must play some role, after all if you don’t like yourself, if you’re not comfortable with yourself how will others ever be able to accept you?
I’ve found great clarity in purpose…at least for the moment and I’ve made my own decisions about what is ultimately important to me.
It’s funny that I’m so taken with the Jewish community in the Brighton/Brookline area because it’s a much more relaxed community then New York. It’s smaller and more intimate. Everyone knows everyone.
Ironically this is a double negative; the exact reason that I like the community here so much more is the exact reason I like the city itself less. Boston is a sleepy college town, it’s quirky and cool, but ultimately it’s quiet. Whereas New York is the city that never sleeps, the big apple, you name it; it can be all things and everything to everyone.
I’ve been realizing that the hardest thing to do as a human being is to commit to something, not just for a week or a month but for years. When you stop saying this is what I’m doing for now in a year I’ll be… that’s when life gets scary. It’s easy to always be looking, to always be on the move. Hell it’s what I’ve done for the last four years and I’ve had a great time doing it.
I’ve seen and experienced much. I’m happy for those times but I’m also committed to here and now. To picking a shul, to picking a community and saying this is who I am, these are my friends and mentors and though I recognize the value of change, I also recognize the value of commitment and that’s what I’m doing now.
It’s what I was looking for…(or maybe I don’t know anything)
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