Another Bunch of Prayers

I managed to attend all the writing portions of last Saturday's siddur-writing session, and here's what I produced:

On Hearing a Siren

A siren cries its note of terror--something's burning, someone is hurt, a tragedy has occurred. Please let the ambulance or fire engine and all who are aboard it travel fast and safe. May the team act with courage, wisdom, and kindness. And may the people who are in danger be rescued and healed.

Reading for after Lighting Shabbat Candles

In the beginning, God said, "Let there be light," and it was so. We, made in the divine image, also have the power to make light. When we kindle the Sabbath lights, we build Your sanctuary in time. May we enter it with joy and leave it tomorrow in peace.

A Praise for Safe Driving

That was a close one, God. I really didn't want to hurt anyone or be hurt in a car crash. If someone asks me if I believe in miracles, I have to think about all the crashes that don't happen, and say "yes." Thank You, Designer of the Universe, for keeping cars in their lanes.

Remembrance of Flawed Family

I miss those of my family who have died--grandparents, parents, aunts, and uncles. But I miss more what they failed to give me--the secure, wise, nurturing family that I wish I had. Thank You, God, for the gifts that they were able to give me, and for the family I am finding elsewhere to supply what they could not give.

Introduction to Meditation

Here in shul I want to meditate. Do I use my Transcendental Meditation mantra or choose a Hebrew phrase? Shall I think about the weekly portion or just follow my breath? I think that the best form of meditation is the one that I will actually do often enough for it to work. Any way that we structure our thinking calms us down and draws us towards You. May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable in Your sight, Adonai, my rock and my redeemer.

A Friendly Universe

I'm reading a book called "Temperament: How Music Became A Battleground for the Great Minds of Western Civilization," by Stuart Isacoff. It's about, I kid you not, how systems of tuning musical instruments became the basis for major struggles in religion, philosophy, science, and economics.

It starts with Isaac Newton and his theory of gravity, which "enabled him to declare the universe a place in which all things embrace each other, even across the vast distances of space."

What a lovely view of things; I can't add anything to that.

Thanksgiving

There's an anonymous saying: Hem your blessings with thankfulness so they don't unravel.

I like the homespun imagery, and the hint that being thankful for blessings may help them stick around. This is a lot more positive an approach than a piece of Talmud that recently came to my attention, to the effect that one who enjoys something without saying a blessing is like a thief. Although that sentiment also has a point, and may be what some people need to hear.

Anyway, Thanksgiving Day was yesterday, and I enjoyed it at the home of a neighbor and in the company of several friends. We each spoke some during the course of the evening about some major development in our lives in the past year for which we are thankful.

I talked about my Bat Mitzvah and getting involved in the work of the San Francisco Organizing Project. The work has brought me into a community of San Franciscan people of faith of many colors and religions, and has allowed me to meet with my political representatives and participate in the bettering of life for me and my fellow San Franciscans, Californians, and Americans. I'm proud and humbled to be part of this work.

There's sunshine outside, and I'd better get out and enjoy it before the all-too-soon winter sunset.

Blessings on us all, with appropriate gratitude.

Fall Follies

I spent last week at my annual Elderhostel recorder workshop in the Carmel Valley. We didn't get rained on (much), the sun came out (at least part of) most days, and the food was particularly good - especially the whipped cream that was served with most of the desserts.

I drew a sopranino solo in a Handel Concerto Grosso that we played in recorder orchestra, which had a few 'lively' 16th notes. And the conductor asked me to conduct several sectional rehearsals, which was also fun.

I dragged myself out of bed at 7 each day to take a mile and a half walk with some friends that I see only at this workshop, and saw a few birds during the exercise.

The high point of the week was a jam session I had with a newcomer named Doug, playing through the Telemann duets for alto, numbers 5 and 6. I let him set the tempo for most of the movements, and he chose quite sprightly ones, challenging me to some of the fastest and most accurate playing I've done in some time. I even played a high note that requires stopping the end of the recorder against my thigh, which I usually avoid (and sometimes for good reason, since the note won't sound when I'm wearing my usual corduroy pants). This time, I was wearing denim, and it came out just fine. Yay team.

More Siddur Writing

Two versions of Ma'ariv Aravim, a prayer that thanks God for creation:

I see the face of the moon in a sky that's still light -- a little odd, a little special. The moon belongs to night (or night to the moon?), but it's lovely outside its usual setting. I'm moved to praise You, God, Source of blessings, for this beauty. And it's a comfort to know that the moon and sun perform their stately dance at Your direction. They will not collide, and we can enjoy each in its time.

I see the face of the moon in a sky that's still light -- a little odd, a little special. And I think of all the people You have created -- each of us a little odd, a little special. Gay, straight, bi; male, female, or trans -- all of us created in Your image and each of us as necessary as the moon.

A Hashkiveinu prayer, for peace and safety at night:

When I wrap my tallit over my head, I feel protected by Your sheltering presence. Night comes, our loving Parent, and the dangers of darkness -- accidents, gay-bashers, nightmares. Please wrap us in Your shelter of peace and keep us from harm, and we will praise You when we awake.

A prayer about harmful speech:

I don't want to speak words that hurt, or to be hurt by other's words. Please God help our tongues be tender and our skins be thick.

And a meditation about unity for before the Shema:

Each of us is different, each of us is one. Our atoms all knew each other in the old country. Let us find our unity in You.
___________

The class is over, but there may be another opportunity or two to write in a group with Andrew's guidance. I really enjoy the group writing experience, and immediate feedback. Otherwise, I rarely sit down to write unless I have or give myself an assignment.

Siddur Writings

I've been taking this class that is intended to result in the writing of several new prayers for our congregation's new prayerbook, or siddur. The teacher reads us prayers and poetry to get us into the spirit of things, tells us which prayers are needed, and then has us write in class. Here are the prayers I've come up with so far.

On seeing a rainbow:

Thank You, Source of all, for the rainbow, the spectrum, the colors that are both many and one. Thank You for its beauty, thank You for the joy, thank You for the blessing. When sun meets rain, when despair meets hope, when warmth and water mingle, colors blossom.

After having a transformative encounter with another person:

A fountain of blessings are You, God, who has touched me in the person of my sister, my brother, my kin. Each of us reaching towards you, we touch each other in kindness, with compassion, for growth. Everyone is different, but each shares sparks of Your holiness, and when we meet, we kindle a gentle, warming fire.

Two prayers for travel:

Source of peace, when Your people camped in the desert, You camped with them, and led them in safety. Please be with us as we travel today. Keep us from illness and accident, and let no harm come to us because of our sexual orientation or gender identity. May we praise You for the beauties we will see and the people we will meet, and may we bring blessing where we travel and return safely home.

There will be new dust on my shoes, new tastes in my mouth, new sounds in my ears. I'm planning a journey, God and I don't want to leave You behind. Come with me as we drive, ride, fly, sail, and wait in line. Let us together face the fears and joys of the new. Let us together see the beauty in places and persons. Let us travel together, safe from illness, accident, or injury, and return home in peace.

And three versions of Birkat Hagomel, the blessing for recovery from serious illness or the safe return from a long journey. Each includes the pray-er's prayer and a congregational response:

P: Thank You, Source of blessings, for blessing me, sustaining me, and bringing me safely here -- back to my home, back to my health, back to my synagogue family.
C: We also thank God for these blessings, and welcome you back to us. May God continue to bless you.

P: There were times when I wondered if I was going to make it. But here I am, back with you, thank God.
C: Amen.

P: It's good to be here, now, with you.
C: Hinei ma tov.

Art Show

I'm still sailing from having successfully completed my performance at our company's annual art and talent show. In past years, I've just stood up there, alone or with another employee playing keyboard, and played (badly) some music.

This time, I thought I'd make it more of a 'show and tell' event. I brought all seven sizes of recorders in my collection. I played a scale on each of the two highest-pitched ones and, along with my friend Jack, played brief sections of three Renaissance and Baroque duets on the other five sizes of recorders. As I set up my music stand, and in between the music, I delivered myself of a funny monologue on how the recorder came to have that name in English (when its name includes the term 'flute' in French, Italian, and German), and took a quick glance at the history of playing music on recorders and the design of recorders. My first scale was pretty awful, but I got it better on the second try. The duets went very nicely, despite some vibrato on my part.

There was also some classical guitar playing, poetry reading, a funny scene from a play, and belly dancing. Along with some very tasty food. What's not to like?

The Sun Returns

It's sunny today, and has been off and on most of this week, and my solar-powered emotions are on the upswing.

Boredom has not been a problem, since I had some evening activity every night except Tuesday, when I stayed in and watched season premieres of my favorite TV shows. The week's events covered the gamut from a blind date through a visit with my state legislator.

Yesterday I rested with recorder playing in the afternoon and British murder mysteries on PBS. Today I also played recorder with a pal, putting together a demonstration of the seven different sizes of recorder that I own for a talent show at work later this week. And my next ritual obligation, co-leading a Shabbat service with the rabbi, isn't for three weeks.

So I get to kick back for a little bit, which may lead to more postings.

Happy New Year?

It's only fair that I post not only when I'm in a good spiritual place, but also when I'm in not so good a place.

I slept in yesterday and ate a small breakfast, and got to shul by the end of Yom Kippur Shacharit, at about 11:30, and stayed there through the break the fast at 7:30. The service I led went pretty well, despite my anticipatory anxiety - it's been about a decade since I last put on a kittel and led a High Holy Days service. This year's Mincha had about 60 congregants, which is apparently rather a lot for this relatively unloved service. And I did get a ride home afterwards, which was very nice.

But, I am drained dry. I am tired and glum and my digestion is upset, and the sky is gray, etc. On the bright side, I'm having a massage today, and am looking slightly forward to preparing a demonstration of all seven different sizes of my recorders for my co-workers at a talent/art show in about 10 days.

I'm OK, all things considered, and hope all is well with you, dear reader.

Shabbat Shuvah Sermon

Daniel Chesir was kind enough (or perhaps busy enough) to invite me to deliver the drash at his Shabbat Shuvah service this year, which he has led each of the 30 years since he co-founded Congregation Sha'ar Zahav. Since the rest of my preparation for the High Holy Days was going along OK, and since I had in fact been engaged in teshuvah during the month of Elul, I figured that it wouldn't be too hard. So, here it is:

Sermon on Shabbat Shuvah, 2007

This is Shabbat Shuvah, the Sabbath of Return. The name comes from the Haftarah text, which Daniel just chanted, from Hosea, "Shuvah, Yisraeil, ad Adonai elohecha." "Return, O Israel, to Adonai your God, for you have fallen because of your sin."

The theme of return also appears prominently in the Rosh Hashanah liturgy, "U-teshuva, u't'filah, u'tzedaka ma'avirin et roah hag'zerah." “But repentance, and prayer, and charity avert the severe decree.” Teshuvah means both return and repentance, or perhaps return to God by means of repentance: making a serious examination of our past shortcomings and making efforts to improve, especially to improve our relationships with God, others, and ourselves.

During the month of Elul we have had the special opportunity to examine ourselves and return to a closer relationship with God: to heal all our relationships by making necessary apologies, and to appreciate the relief that can come from getting rid of whatever it was we wanted to leave behind us when we cast our bread crumbs or pebbles into the Bay at tashlich.

But really, the opportunity to return to God is always ours. As our Yom Kippur prayerbook says, "Let us not blaspheme the Most High, by saying that there ever comes a time when sincere prayer is not heard, when sincere repentance is turned away. But if we cannot find prayer and repentance on this Day of Repentance, if we cannot make a start towards peace and wholeness before the sun sets on this one Day of Peace, then when shall repentance come?"

Teshuvah begins when we realize our need to act. If we sense that the distance between us and God has increased, God is not the one who has moved; we have.

On the bright side, to return to God does not require a vast journey. Towards the end of Deuteronomy, Moses talks of a time when the Israelites have turned away from God and been banished from the Holy Land, and the people "return to Adonai your God, and you and your children heed God's command with all your heart and soul, just as I enjoin upon you this day, then Adonai your God will restore your fortunes and take you back in love." And to perform this return is "not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. ... It is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it."

In fact, God will help us to return. At the end of the Torah service, we pray, "Hashiveinu Adonai eilecha v'nashuvah." "Return us to you, O God, and we shall return."

Teshuvah is in our mouth and in our hearts: An examination of our hearts, to see where our distance from God is causing pain, to us and to those around us; then using our mouths to make apologies to those we've harmed and to God for our failures, and then making a renewed effort to live our lives as children of God. It can help us in this effort to remember that we were created in the image and likeness of God, and that we have in us a “yetzer tov,” an urge towards doing good, in addition to the "yetzer hara," the urge towards evil.

Making teshuvah is a bit like doing meditation: we try to focus on a word or image, or our breath, and our busy minds continually present us with other thoughts and images and sensations. However, we don't stop meditating when our minds do that. We simply notice that we've lost our focus, and we gently and kindly return our attention to that focus. This practice strengthens our spirit and our ability to keep our minds from going places that will do us no good. When we're trying to return to God, and we notice that we've swerved away from God and towards something that is, as the Buddhists would say, less skillful, we don't give up on teshuvah. We simply notice that we've turned in the wrong direction and gently turn ourselves back towards God.

And so I'd like to end with a prayer that I wrote about our continuing efforts towards teshuvah:

In the Divine image You created us, Adonai. We strive to measure up to that image, and we fail, and then we get up and strive again. Please teach us that we grow closer to Your image every time we get up again, and give us joy in that knowledge. Blessed are You, Adonai, who lifts up the fallen.

Be All that You Can Be

To be what we are, and to become what we are capable of becoming, is the only end in life.-Baruch Spinoza

This saying makes the same point as the story about Rabbi Zusya, who taught that he would not be asked in the World to Come why he was not Moses, but rather, why he was not Zusya.

I'm trying to prepare for the High Holy Days with introspection and service preparation and a to-do list. The topic of my meditation last night was change, what I need to change about myself, what is scary about that change, how I can deal with the fear, including the fear that I'll never be able to make changes that I've tried and failed to make in the past.

If it were easy to make and keep New Year's resolutions, there would be no need for people to keep on making them, or for the thousands of self-help books that keep on being published. I do know a lot about what doesn't work for me, but less about what does work. My yetzer hara, or destructive impulse, is strong. But I do not despair. I have done new things, and have improved myself in some ways, even if only for a time. And each day, in fact, each moment, presents the opportunity for a fresh start.

May we all be written in the Book of Life for a sweet and healthy New Year.

Summer Fun

So, I went to recorder camp the last week of July. I'd been holding off making the decision to enroll because it has moved to a new location this year, after some 15 years in San Rafael. I don't take kindly to change. After I realized that I was overreacting to the change, I signed up at the last minute, and am very glad that I did so.

The new location, St. Albert's Priory, is a lovely place, built around a central courtyard with grass, a koi pond, and two tortoises. The main chapel is great acoustically, and elegantly appointed with dark wood choir stall, marble floors, and stained glass. The grounds are invitingly rustic, with trees and creek doing their darnedest to absorb noise and pollutants from Highway 24 next door.

The faculty rotates through the technique classes, so I got to spend one session with each of them, and took classes all week with two of my favorite teachers. I also arranged jam sessions in the off-hours with old and new friends, getting to play some of their music, and, most happily, with a 9-part piece of music that I had been introduced to 2 years ago and hadn't had the chance to play with that many sufficiently capable players ever since. And I even have a recording of our session!

Then, I barely had time to unpack before I was at a rehearsal for a healthcare town hall being hosted by my synagogue last Wednesday. It was attended by Assemblyman Mark Leno, Assemblywoman Fiona Ma, and representatives from Senator Carole Migden, Governor Arnold Schwartzenegger, and Speaker of the House (my Congresswoman) Nancy Pelosi. Under the guidance of San Francisco Organizing Project mentors, I was part of the committee that wrote the script for the evening, and I wound up reading the part of the co-chair. Thanks to those who phoned congregants of the various SFOP congregations, we had a full house! Standing room only. It seemed to make a positive impact on the politicos, who assented whole-heartedly to our principles calling for a statewide universal healthcare plan this year.

So now I'm back to trying to work and real estate decisions, and stuff like that.

Sermon on Devarim and Health Care Access

This week we begin reading the last book of the Torah, Devarim. The book presents the discourses that Moses addressed to the children of Israel just outside the land of Cana'an. Like the other books, it takes its Hebrew name from one of its first words - d'varim, which means "words." It also means "things." And the connection between words and things is nowhere more clearly shown than in Bereishit, where God speaks the world into existence. Words spoken by humans are also important. I'm reading a book these days called Words that Hurt, Words that Heal, by Rabbi Joseph Telushkin. Words are powerful things; let's be careful how we use them.

The portion D'varim outlines the journey of the Israelites through the wilderness, mentioning various battles that took place during those forty years. It makes the point that a battle will go well for the children of Israel if God has commanded it and will fight with them, and that the people will be defeated if they choose to fight a battle that God has not commanded. Rebelling against God's command not to fight a battle is as sinful as disobeying a command to fight a battle. Neither response is a good idea.

The Haftarah for this week is the first chapter of Isaiah. It talks about the sorry state of Israelites who have forsaken God. All manner of misfortune comes to them, including the fact that there is no one to provide treatment for their illnesses: "Every head is ailing, and every heart is sick. From head to foot no spot is sound: all bruises, and welts, and festering sores--not pressed out, not bound up, not softened with oil."

Tonight I want to speak with you about the work of the San Francisco Organizing Project. SFOP is a faith-based group of congregations, schools, and community centers representing 40,000 families throughout San Francisco. The staff of SFOP works with these congregations to teach them how to organize to improve their communities. With their help, a year and a half ago, we at Sha’ar Zahav interviewed members of our community and discovered that the lack of affordable healthcare was a major concern. Congregants formed a local organizing committee with a mentor from SFOP. Last June we had a community meeting at Sha’ar Zahav that included members of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. They heard our concerns and the next month, the supervisors unanimously approved groundbreaking legislation for universal, accessible healthcare in San Francisco, a program now called Healthy San Francisco. The program will provide actual health care, not insurance, through city clinics and other providers, and will be paid for through a combination of sliding scale fees, employer payments, and governmental funding. Three weeks ago, Healthy SF began at two clinics in Chinatown, and it is scheduled to be in full operation by the end of next year. We at Sha'ar Zahav helped make that happen; we made our voices heard, and the legislators listened.

But that was just the beginning. One of the goals of the congregation was to work for expanded health care access at the state and national levels. And now there is momentum in the country to work for better health care. The movie Sicko is eloquently making the points that the US healthcare system works primarily to create profits for the insurance companies, and that people in countries with free universal healthcare are healthier and live longer than Americans. Californians are starting to take action. The governor and several Democratic legislators have proposed bills for statewide healthcare programs. Now we have another opportunity to make our voices heard.

Sha'ar Zahav will be hosting a Town Hall Meeting for all the SFOP congregations on Wednesday, August First, at 6:30 P.M. In attendance will be State Assemblyman Mark Leno, State Assemblywoman Fiona Ma, State Senators Carol Migden and Leland Yee, State Senator Pro Tem Don Perata, and a representative from the office of Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger. We will let them know our concerns and priorities, and they will let us know what they are doing to fulfill them. Imagine their thoughts if only 40 people are in the audience. There is power in numbers. We need you to be there.

The Haftarah continues with a call for the people to engage in tikkun olam, to work towards healing this broken world. "Devote yourselves to justice; aid the wronged. Uphold the rights of the orphan; defend the cause of the widow." Since Isaiah has noted that untreated illness is not a good thing, I think he would agree that working for universal, accessible healthcare would be one way to uphold the rights and defend the cause of those who need help. Fighting for justice and health, we can be sure that God is fighting with us.

My Bat Mitzvah Drash

It seems that I never posted my bat mitzvah drash. Here it is:

My Catholic mother had me baptized as an infant. Nevertheless, I belonged to a Reform synagogue when I was in elementary school, because I was living with the Jewish parents of my atheist father. I studied Hebrew and ethics, and led children's services. But I went to live with my father at the end of the sixth grade, and my Jewish education ended.

Years later I became involved with a group of gay and lesbian Lutherans. Through them, in 1980 or so, I met Daniel Chesir, who invited me to Sha'ar Zahav. Here, I appreciated the familiar old prayers and the new liturgy that acknowledged and upheld me as gay and as a woman, not to mention all the nice Jewish lesbians. I joined the synagogue and the Ritual Committee, and started leading adult services.

Several months ago, I started to take these interesting classes that could lead to an adult B'nai Mitzvah ceremony. After some soul-searching, I decided to go for it; what with my Catholic mother and all, it seemed like a good idea to formalize my connection with Judaism. So far, my Bat Mitzvah experience is turning out as I recently read it described, "one step on the path to increasing community involvement." I've joined the Bikkur Cholim committee and my increased commitment to tikkun olam, as part of the B'nai Mitzvah requirements, has taken me as far as Sacramento to talk with my legislators about health care access.

From this week's Torah portion, I chose to chant the priestly benediction, because of my summers at Cazadero Music Camp. There I enjoyed the redwood trees and the music, and getting crushes on my counselors. I always choked up, though, when the counselors bade us farewell by singing a choral setting of the benediction, the one we played on recorders. Probably because it meant that our week in the woods was officially over, but also because the much-admired counselors were singing to us campers, praying for us.

The priestly benediction is as follows: Y'varechecha Adonai v'yishm'recha; Ya'eir Adonai panav eilecha vichuneka; yisa Adonai panav eilecha v'yaseim lecha shalom: May God bless you and keep you. May God deal kindly and graciously with you. May God bestow divine favor upon you and grant you peace.

The first verse is usually interpreted as a plea for material blessings, and for protection from any harm that might flow from that prosperity. The second verse asks that we experience the spiritual blessing of insight into the Torah; and the third verse asks for some combination of material and spiritual blessings. These 15 words have been hallowed by millenia of use, and they incorporate the hopes and prayers of millions of Jews. On top of which, they come with a money-back guarantee. Well, actually, a promise of response. At the end of my portion, God says, "My priests will use these words to link my name with the children of Israel, and I will bless them, va'ani avarecheim."

The priests traditionally pronounced the blessings at the High Holy Days and the three Pilgrimage Festivals. Nowadays, congregations use them on many happy occasions, including, as it happens, b'nai mitzvah. So, you'll be singing them for us soon.

Incidentally, the gesture for the Vulcan greeting "Live long and prosper" derives from the priestly benediction. I don't have time to explain it here; ask me about it after the service.

I expect to choke up when you folks sing the blessing for us, as I did at the end of summer camp. Not only because it will mark the end of my Bat Mitzvah classes, but also because all of you will be using the ancient words to ask blessings on us, on our path to increasing community involvement - with Congregation Sha'ar Zahav and with the Jewish people.

City Sightings

I've been meaning to pass on a few recently spotted vignettes:

I saw a woman knitting with four or five double-pointed needles as she walked across the street (while I was crossing in the opposite direction) near my office one afternoon. It takes a serious command of one's needles to have the confidence to maneuver them while standing, let alone walking, because the stitches will drop off the needles at the slightest provocation. Or the needle will simply fall out of the stitches. And if a needle drops into the storm drain, it's all over for that set of needles.

On the same walk to the Metro, I saw two (presumably Sikh) gentlemen in turbans. The first turban was a virulent shade of chartreusy green, and had no connection whatsoever to the other colors of his clothes. It just about hurt my eyes. I concluded that the man was color-blind or had no taste whatsoever. The next gentleman, however, was wearing a purple (my favorite color) turban, which eased my eyes. Moreover, it coordinated beautifully with his lavender shirt and the other clothes he was wearing. I said to myself - that guy has to be gay. However, suspecting that the Sikh religion is no more gay-friendly than other religions of a similar vintage, I revised my diagnosis, and now think that he was a metrosexual.

Finally, just the other day, I walked by a motor scooter that was Pepto Bismol pink. It was soooo girly looking. But the seat was covered with a black vinyl with a white pattern on it. A pattern that, on closer examination, turned out to be skulls and crossbones! Perhaps the owner is Anne Bonney?

Last Writing Class of this Session

We had the last session of the creative writing class last Thursday, and were instructed to bring some entertaining readings. So, I revisited two of the pieces I wrote for the humor class two years ago, and read them at the class, to some acclaim. Here they are:

The Comet

Comets and meteors have rammed into Earth from time to time. In 1908, for example, a huge area of Siberia was devastated by a comet. But scientists are only made curious by such destruction.

In 2005, NASA launched an 820-pound slug of copper (with a camera and a propulsion system) into a neighboring comet, to see what it was made of. The "ejecta," the debris kicked up from the impact of the slug, are being analyzed to determine, in the words of one of the NASA scientists, whether comets are "dirty snowballs" or "snowy dirtballs."

What if they find out that comets aren't made of dirt and water, after all? Maybe they're made of palm trees, or pepperoni pizzas, or fur coats, or dolphins, or skis, or oboes, or old truck engines, or paper clips, or surveying rods, or old computers, or bus transfers, or clown makeup, or steel kettles, or brown paper shopping bags, or street signs, or Swiss watches, or acrylic paints, or tattered paperback books, or backhoes, or wrought iron railings, or Louis XIV armoires, or corn silos, or locomotive engines, or birchbark canoes, or threadbare sheets.

Flinging a huge chunk of metal at an object is not the most sophisticated method of studying it, I think. Also, it's just not a neighborly thing to do. How would we like it if somebody flung a heavy object at Earth to see what it's made of? Mm. I'm thinking of the crater in Siberia and wondering if maybe somebody did.

The Sea and Me

My bed sings a siren song to me, one that I can hear from miles away. But the song is not loud, just insistent. It lures me to my bed, wrapping me in sleepiness like a wonderfully soft bathrobe. It whispers to me of relaxation, release, and refreshment. It reminds me of the simple pleasure of sleep. I go gladly to its embrace. My bed becomes a conch shell of shimmering warmth; at once it is both large and protective, and cozy and comfortable.

In the morning, however, it's another story. Then my bed is a huge octopus. Its arms spring forth from the mattress and entangle me in their tentacles of sheets and pillows. The gigantic octopus grasps hold of me and refuses to let me go. (It seems to have woken up hungry.) I struggle to free myself from its grasp, but every time I lift my head from the pillow it drags me back down underwater. Not satisfied with just keeping me asleep, it keeps me in bed even when I don't actually get back to sleep. On weekends, when I don't try that hard to get up, it can keep me from leaving the bed until half the day is gone. On workdays, however, my need to earn a living gives extra strength to my struggles, and I break free of the long, suckered tentacles and swim off to work.

___________

Just before class, I dashed off the first scene of a recorder camp murder mystery. Since I'd already sketched out some characters and done a plot outline, I had no excuse not to - and if I didn't start it now, I probably never would.

Death by Recorder, scene 1

The recorders were playing a bit out of tune, but the dissonance troubling Harmony was not musical. She and the other students were playing in the opening session of the week-long Mendocino Early Music Festival. They had spent at least a thousand dollars to attend the workshop, and some had traveled halfway across the country. The room should be filled with the joy of music making, she thought.

But that wasn't what Harmony was feeling. Her shoulders were climbing towards her ears, and she wasn't getting good, deep breaths. "Could I be nervous about being here?" she asked herself. "This is hardly my first recorder workshop. No. I'm here, my luggage is here, I know how to get from my room to the dining hall to here. The weather suits my clothes. No, I'm not nervous. This must be someone else's feeling that I'm picking up on."

She looked around the classroom, once part of a military barracks, to see if she could spot someone who might be the source of her discomfort. The teacher, Meolody, stopped the music often enough that it didn't taker Harmony very long to survey her 30 fellow students.

She knew about half of them from earlier workshops. She had spoken with Hank, Melody, and Elizabeth earlier today, congratulating them on their good taste in choosing the same K&M purple folding music stand that she used (and that was used by nobody else in her local playing community).

She also knew Horace, Julie, and the other teacher, Heather. None of the players looked especially troubled, but nobody looked joyful, either. Harmony couldn't put her finger on it, but something was amiss in Mendocino.

Color Me a Jewish Adult

The B'nai Mitzvah ceremony went smoothly for me and my three classmates. Our nerves seemed to be fairly quiet, most everyone was where they needed to be when they needed to be there, my Torah chanting was flawless (I was the only one who didn't need to be prompted), etc. I did puddle up as expected when the rabbi and our teacher laid hands upon us and chanted the priestly benediction, but the mood was swiftly broken when the rabbi accidentally removed one of my earrings along with her hands after the blessing. I found the backing afterwards, but not the earring itself. Oh well.

My friends took me out to a tapas bar for dinner afterwards -- I was too wired and busy to even look at the lavish oneg foods that I had helped sponsor -- and, even though it was very late for me to be eating, I very much enjoyed a full meal.

I kept flying for the next two days, and then came crashing down with post-performance depression, and the return of focus on my challenging real estate situation. Meanwhile, at least my writing classes continue to provide their own challenges and gratifications. Here are a humorous piece I wrote for my Thursday class and a couple of things I wrote at a daylong workshop yesterday:

Just My Luck

Some lesbians get a little action when they go out of town for a gay gathering. Not me. The closest I came was at a conference in Minnesota for a gay Lutheran group. I somehow caught the attention of a nice lesbian doctor. Unfortunately, she insisted on remaining true to her absent lover, and my best efforts got me only some very nice necking, a canoe ride, and sunburn.

A few years later, I went to a women's retreat house for a weekend of instruction in meditation and massage. One woman used techniques on my inner thighs that would have caused me great embarrassment were I a man. Although straight, she seemed to enjoy exerting that power over another woman. When I happened to mention that I belonged to a gay synagogue, she perked up, and asked me to spend some time alone with her. I asked my roommate to stay outside the room for a while, and enjoyed giving her a demonstration of lesbian kissing and cuddling, but she drew the line there.

Then I went to the West Coast Women's Music and Cultural Festival. Hundreds of dykes camping in the woods, Holly Near, bare breasts. Women hooking up to the left of me, kissing and caressing to the right of me. Into the valley of dykes I marched. But me, my gaydar was so bad that I wound up hanging out with one of the ten straight women at the festival.

Which brings me to the Transcendental Meditation retreat that was conducted by a fellow member of the Pacific Lesbian and Gay Singers. He talked lyrically of the beauty of the retreat center in the redwoods. He know that I was a lesbian, so I got my hopes up. But no. The retreat involved 47 gay men, two straight women, and me.



Writing Workshop pieces:

My sound and texture

I am the end of the Shostakovich Fugue in C Major on recorders, a cacophony of shrill, squawking, honking recorders being overblown. Then the players calm down, soften up, see the end approaching and they're not lost, and then it's here and they're right where they belong, on a beautifully in tune C major chord that shimmers with the victory of the conductor, who is making beautiful music to spite his AIDS.

I am corduroy, chamois, tender leaves of lamb's ears, cashmere and acrylic, velvet and velour, shag carpeting, and suede. I am all that is soft, fuzzy, warm, and inviting. But, there's a leftover pin in the new shirt, there's a burr in the sheepskin wheel cover. There's a stain in the cloth, or its nap is being worn off. All is not perfect.

Santa Monica Scenes

I was riding my new skateboard down the street, and slipped and skinned my knee, and ran home to Mother, and cried in her arms. Only when I was done did she look to see where my boo-boo was and deal with it.

The chaise longue in the sun room is a great place to hide out with a book, looking through the French doors at the greenery in the back yard. Looking words up in the Webster's Unabridged that lives on its own lectern, left open because it's too big to keep shut.

For some time I slept in the small room off Mother's upstairs bedroom. The only way in or out was through that bedroom I felt safe there. The windows looked West, and may have held some light when I was trying to sleep there on a summer evening.

There was a clawfoot tub in the upstairs bathroom, with water that came fitfully and weakly. I don't remember why I once or twice had to use a chamber pot at night or adventure down to the bathroom downstairs by the back door to pee -- maybe I was sleeping in the cabin or the pavilion (two converted chicken coops) in the back yard. The privilege of sleeping in one of them was rarely bestowed.

My brother and I were given a different toy each summer. One year it was Whammo tanks -- huge cardboard loops that you crawled into and propelled by crawling forward inside them. Other years it was hula hoops, pogo sticks, homemade stilts. I seem to remember jars of colored water, but not what we did with them.

I'd be reading away in one of my little rooms, and Grandma Mil would yell my name up the stairs. And it could be anything, a cream puff for me to eat, or time to practice piano, or time to polish the piano, or maybe she'd read to us kids from a book in the language she was studying that year.

We'd have big Christmas dinners with most of the aunts and uncles and cousins. Colored goblets on the huge, dark wooden table with all its leaves in. Huge leg of lamb, which I somehow came to enjoy eating with mayonnaise. Washing the dishes afterwards in the kitchen with the aunts and the other girl cousin, with the knitted washcloths and the fading food smells, and the dampness on the hands, and the fear of breaking something.

And then we'd all have to perform our set pieces -- I'd sing the Titanic duet with my brother or play Bach on the piano. And some cousin would play flute or recite a poem. And finally one of the adults, usually Uncle Malcolm, would read from Dickens, the Christmas at Dingley Dell.


Finally, a poem created by taking randomly chosen lines from other poems and writing freely after each line until the next one was read. Then we 'panned for gold' in the resulting melange and reassembled the best bits into a title and poem. I'll italicize the lines that were given to us. In retrospect, I think my bits make three poems:

Cool Feet

I throw the river my shoes.
My feet are hot
and
the water is cool.
And the river may
carry them off.
I don't care.
My soles are tough,
my feet are tan,
and I will happily
walk home barefoot.

The Pen and the Song

I write your name
with a pen made of wood,
and it cries your name silently.
I miss you.
We were close once,
but are now far apart.
What happened?
We sang in beautiful harmony then,
but the song died.
The unity failed.
What did it need
to survive in the holy quiet
of the space between two people
where the divine spirit rests?
Something it needed
that we failed to give it.
I'm so sorry.

I was Still to be Born, but the World had Died, and There was no Room for Me

Clothed in leaves and wind,
comes the fall,
when seasons change
and masses of air move
from one home to another.

And in hundreds of seaports,
the rising oceans
cover the fading works of man.
Without flowers,
the death of the world will occur.
Without mourners,
for all will have gone before.

My Bat Mitzvah is Tonight

Today is the day I've been working towards since last October. But it wasn't until this week that it actually occurred to me to invite my brother and some of my closer friends (I had invited a few others earlier on). It surely was thoughtless of me to wait until this late. Possibly I didn't want to make a big deal of it because it was so hard for me to decide to do it in the first place, and I'm still not sure about the extent and nature of my commitment to this covenant. I was also a bit embarrassed that it had taken me so long to get around to it. And I wasn't sure that I wanted a lot of people there to watch this somewhat anticlimactic event (since I've read from Torah and conducted worship and delivered sermons many times over the years). And in part I didn't want to send out invitations and seem to be asking for presents.

I finally realized that it actually is something of a big deal - in fact, a once in a lifetime event - this week.

So, as usual before a state event, I started having some 'coming down with a cold' symptoms Sunday night. I started taking echinacea and stayed home Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, and the symptoms cleared up, but I went to my writing class Thursday night, and that tipped the scales the other way. I now have a sore throat, but will probably have most of my voice until after the service.

It's my prayer that we all will be healthy, calm, and present for the service. And our best efforts are good enough. I'm told there will be a videotape of the event. The presence of a camera may encourage me to watch my posture.

Writing Exercises

So, here are a few writings from my latest classes.

When asked to describe one of several emotions that had been named by class members, I wrote:

She's sitting with about six others in the waiting area of Assemblyman Leno's office. Although they arrived about ten minutes late, he is not yet ready for them. She volunteered to make this trip only a week ago, and has barely grasped the question she has come to put to him. She was briefed in the van as they drove to Sacramento; she has developed a script. But still, her breathing is shallow; she pokes at tight muscles in her chest. Perhaps her face is pale, because a leader of the group asks her if she's all right. "I'll be fine once we get started," she says. "It's nothing a little Klonopin won't fix."

Then we were asked to develop a scene from our past, first by drawing a plan of a childhood home, then writing a description of a room therein, then writing descriptions of some of the characters of that period of our lives, and finally a scene in that room involving some conflict. I wrote the scene below, (using an opening line suggested by the teacher) but felt so inadequate for my inability to clearly imagine the house, room, and people, that I also wrote me a pep talk, which also follows.

The trouble began when Grandma came to tuck me into bed and found Grandpa there reading me a story. "The curtain goes up at 8," she said. "We don't have time for this." She had given me my medicine earlier in the day, so she could get dressed up for her evening at the theater. And I hadn't made that easy for her either. The huge antibiotic capsules that I took for my strep throat always felt like they were choking me, so I resisted taking them. We had worked out a compromise. I would choke down the capsule, and chase it with a cup of hot tea that she would, on such occasions only, let me drink while in bed.

So here she came, carrying her fur wrap and smelling of Chanel No. 5. And Grandpa was going to finish reading me the latest Nancy Drew mystery if I had anything to say about it. They debated the point in Yiddish, while I comforted myself with looking at the ballerinas painted on the doors of my jewelry box. Nothing was visible out the window, but I knew the backyard was there and that I would eventually be back outside, playing in it.

Grandma must have played some trump card, because Grandpa stood up handed me the book, kissed me on the forehead, and told me to finish reading the book myself, like a good girl.

Now my pep talk:

How am I going to learn to do new things if I hate doing them poorly so much that I never try? Or if I give up the first time I dislike what I've done or when someone suggests how I can do it better?

I do not have to do everything that I do perfectly in order to be entitled to live. Humans don't excel at everything. And some things, most things actually, that we do poorly at first, we can get better at doing.

I go to classes to learn, not to demonstrate excellence. I go to get guidance, to try, to stumble, to get some hints of how to improve. No one fails at a class, except one who doesn't go at all. My best effort is, by definition, good enough for right now.


And now some pieces from my current class. We were given a list of dozens of words and asked to choose seven that appealed to us. Then we were told to write a poem using all of them, in free verse. I got them all in, but was not really happy with it. Here's another take, using only three of them:

A magenta sunset
came to the megalopolis.
I examined the intricate flow of the light
around the buildings,
each piece connecting to the next
in an algebra of architecture.

Then we worked on writing the first and last lines of pieces, the hook or lead and the kicker:
1. A. The empty music stands were the only witnesses to Horace's death.
B. The viols and recorders, playing in perfect tune, gave witness that harmony had been restored to the early music workshop.

2. A. My idea of a workout is walking to a more distant Quiznos for lunch.
B. Sidewalks may not be all the gym I need, but they are all the gym I will use.

3. A. Do two notes imply a harmony the way that two points define a line?
B. The words and music together invoke a blessing of peace.

Then we were assigned to write something using a common daily form, e.g., invitation, personal ad, etc. I wrote product safety warnings for a recorder. They go on for a while, based largely on those in the manual for my cell phone. Here are a few that I adapted:

1. Overblowing can result in damaged hearing or a damaged instrument, and, possibly, fist-fights or lawsuits.
2. Although your recorder is fairly sturdy, it is a piece of wood, and can be cracked or broken. Avoid dropping, hitting, bending, or sitting on it.
3. Any changes or modifications to your recorder not performed by its maker will void your warranty for the instrument and could void your authority to play it.

Really the rest of the old posts

Sunday, December 17, 2006
Long time no post

I've been kinda swamped at work and under some other complications, so I apologize for the gap since the last post. I was flabbergasted last week to receive an e-mail from a provider of payday loans offering to pay to advertise on this blog. I was amazed that anyone not only found it but thought it might have enough readers to justify advertising, but I was disappointed that the service being offered was one I can't get behind supporting. Oh well. At least the attention has pushed me back to the keyboard.

A couple of big things have happened since my last post. The biggest is the death of my co-tenant in common on Rosh Hashanah. I visited him at least weekly in the months he was in the hospital, and wrote and submitted an obituary for publication. He did a lot of good in the world.

My hope is to buy his interest in the building from his heir, but I haven't yet gotten it together to gather the financial information necessary for my financial advisor to figure out how much I can afford to spend without jeopardizing my retirement. Gotta get going on that.

I had a lovely time last month at the annual recorder week in Carmel Valley. The weather was unusually fine, the hillsides were beautiful, the food was good. In morning walks with my birding friends I saw a red-shouldered hawk, western bluebirds, and yellow-crowned sparrows. It was great seeing my friends from other parts of the country again, and I enjoyed the classes that I chose. One of these was with Margriet Tindemans, a viol player and teacher who also, it turns out, has recorder expertise. The class had both viols and recorders. Listening while the viols repeatedly tuned up was a bit boring, but I and another advanced recorder player got to play the most challenging and showy parts of the various pieces that we played. One evening there were guided sight-reading sessions, and we three top recorder players were joined by the top viol player and Ms. Tindemans, who both coached and played bass viol with us. We were hot. One movement that we played sounded like a glorious, lush organ piece - we were blown away. I got to play a couple of solos in the orchestra and was the only recorder player on my part in two other selections in the concert at the end of the week.

I'm gearing up to co-lead a service in two weeks with the rabbinical intern, from whom I have been taking this class called "A Covenant of Words," which studies Jewish thought and theology in the context of the weekly Torah portion and some key Hebrew terms. It's part of the coursework for having an adult Bar/Bat Mitzvah ceremony.

I'm wavering about whether to complete the course and participate in the ceremony. When I was growing up in Reform Judaism, I was interested in having a Bat Mitzvah, but I moved away from the congregation before it could take place. Since then, I've wandered in fields of atheism, various flavors of Christianity, and Buddhist meditation, and my spirituality has become very diverse, and somewhat inconsistent. However, I have been a dues-paying member of the synagogue for more than 20 years. That shows a degree of commitment beyond that of many Jews. Stay tuned.
4:59 pm pst

Saturday, August 12, 2006
My latest sermon

This week’s portion is Ekev. It includes the basis for birkat hamazon, the grace after meals: “When you have eaten your fill, give thanks to Adonai your God for the good land which God has given you.” Giving thanks after meals is a good thing, although I’m more apt to do so before meals. But, gratitude in general, is a wonderful way to approach life. Being appreciative for the good things in our lives is appropriate. Moreover, being grateful is one of the most effective ways we have of becoming happy and useful.

I’ve heard a Jewish teaching that we have a moral duty to be cheerful (except for times like Tisha b’Av, the commemoration of the destruction of the Temple, and during times of mourning for loved ones). Gratitude can help with that, and it’s much more pleasant feeling grateful and cheerful than many of the other ways we might feel, like discontent, angry, or bitter. Life is not perfect, and there’s too little of it, so we get the most out of it by focusing on the good parts, the parts we can be grateful for.

Moses goes on to explain that gratitude is enjoined upon us because, when we have a full stomach and look around at our fine house and herds and flocks, and our silver and gold, we could think that we have won this wealth by ourselves. And that’s not the case. “Remember that it is Adonai your God who gives you the power to get wealth.” Well, yes, all things come from God.

But this portion talks a lot about the blessings that will come if the people are obedient to God and the curses that will result from disobedience, and I have some trouble with this carrot and stick approach towards developing an obedient congregation. First, the carrot – it’s variously described as land, flocks, numerous descendants, the awestruck admiration of other nations, etc. All of these are a bit problematical to me. Dispossessing other people from their land can create trouble. And I don’t think that accumulating wealth is an appropriate goal for life. Enough to survive comfortably, OK, but amassing a fine house and herds and flocks and silver and gold? Unnecessary and too much. And when some people have too much, others have too little, because the world is a zero sum game.

Then there’s the carrot of having descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky. I think that the planet has about all the inhabitants it can accommodate now, thank you, and those it has (especially the wealthy ones) are certainly using up its resources at unsustainable rates.

How about the acclaim of the rest of the world? It would be nice to be thought well of, for a change, instead of being subjected to hatred, expulsion, pogroms, and extermination. But I’d settle for being thought of as no better and no worse than others.

As to the stick part of the equation, let me start with this piece of Ekev: “And now, Israel, what does Adonai your God demand of you, but to fear Adonai your God, to walk in all God’s ways, and to love Adonai, and to serve Adonai your God with all your heart and with all your soul; to keep for your good the commandments of Adonai, and God’s statutes, which I command you this day?”

A more recent JPS translation says that we should revere God. I don’t profess to know enough Hebrew to say which translation is more true to the meanings of the Hebrew verb, but, judging by the events of the Exodus, I think that ‘fear’ is the appropriate word. Very bad things happen when the people get on the wrong side of God. After Aaron made the golden calf and the people enthusiastically worshipped it, the Levites killed three thousand of the men. And when Nadab and Abihu made a fire offering that God had not commanded, God burnt them to a crisp. And then when some people developed a lust for meat, God sent a deadly plague. And shortly after that, Miriam and Aaron spoke against Moses, and Miriam contracted leprosy. And finally, for being afraid to enter the promised land, the whole adult generation is condemned to die in the desert.

When making inappropriate choices can get you killed, fear is the appropriate response. Slaughter is a very big stick indeed.

But the problem is, it doesn’t work. Moses lists these events in the portion and acknowledges that the people keep on going astray. He concludes that this is because they are a stiffnecked people. He says, “As long as I have known you, you have been defiant toward God.”

But the problem might be instead with the carrot and stick method. I read a lot, and lately I have read several references to another training method. This approach has been very successful in training animals, children, and spouses. The technique is simple - ignore bad behavior and lavishly praise the desired behavior. I don’t know if we can get God to use this approach, but it sure would be less bloody.

There is another strand in the portion that is neither carrot nor stick. It’s references to the good things that God has already done for the people: “the wondrous acts that you saw with your own eyes, the signs and the portents, the right hand, and the outstretched arm by which Adonai your God liberated you.” The provision of water, and manna, and quail in the desert. “The clothes upon you did not wear out, nor did your feet swell these forty years.” If God can’t be persuaded to try the lavish praise method of training, perhaps we can escape the stick by obeying the mitzvot out of gratitude.

May we grow in gratitude for all the goodness of God and may that gratitude both fill us with joy and lead us to walk more closely in God’s ways.5:41 pm pdt

Friday, July 28, 2006
Earthlink does it again

I did get back to Earthlink when it appeared that the one time my phone rang was a fluke, and they gave me the runaround for a few days, including the flabbergasting mention of a cancellation fee, and I finally turned the matter over to a specialist at AT&T, who got my phone service back in order that day.

I had hoped I'd heard the last of the abortive Earthlink phone service, but decided to carefully peruse my e-mailed invoice to be sure. That was wise. They charged me a $150 early termination fee, even though I didn't terminate the service - they decided that they couldn't make it work and canceled on me!

So I called them up to demand my money back and the woman on the phone was sympathetic at first but then put me on hold for a few more minutes while they figured out a way to hang on to that money a bit longer. She came back and told me they'd be holding on to it as security until I returned the better DSL modem that they had sent me as part of the new service. Since they hadn't made me mail back the crappy old modem that was part of my previous internet service with them (and that modem had cut out on me many times, necessitating hours of calls to tech support), I was kinda hoping that they'd let me keep the new one in recompense for the hassle they put me through to get my previous phone service restored. But no, and I don't think they have any contractual right to hang on to a fee that they had no right to charge me in the first place as security for its return. In fact, it would be more equitable if I waited for the return of my money before letting go of the new modem.

Anyway, my blood pressure's up again and I'm thinking ever more strongly about switching to another ISP, even if I have to go back to dialup.

Be warned, Earthlink doesn't have a clue about providing phone service over the internet - and sucks at customer service.
6:38 pm pdt

Tuesday, June 6, 2006
Sensations as winds

A recent bit of Buddhist wisdom:

Different winds come from all directions. Some are clear, some carry dust, some are cold or hot, fierce gales or gentle breezes. In the same way sensations arise in the body--pleasant or unpleasant or neutral. When a meditator sees sensations as he does the winds, coming and going, clear or dust laden, fierce or gentle, he will fully understand them and be free from dependence on them. When he understands sensations perfectly, he will see beyond this conditioned world.

I'm on vacation this week, and it's about time too. I finally shipped that six-volume new edition off to the printer and am keeping my fingers crossed that it will show up in print, in a condition that's not too embarrassing, within the quarter.

So, I'm taking a week off and going to the Berkeley Festival and Exhibition of Early Music. I went to three concerts yesterday, and will be attending concerts and the exhibition hall Wednesday through Saturday, but I took today off to rest up and get some chores done - like voting.

I usually choose concerts because I expect to enjoy the music or because I like the performers and hope to enjoy the music. Sarah and I chose concerts this year with convenient location as the primary factor - which hasn't worked too well so far. Of yesterday's three concerts, one was enjoyable, one was OK, and I was thinking about walking out of the third. I'm hoping they'll improve.

It's been a fun time with my phone service. I improvidently accepted an offer to convert my local and long distance service to my ISP, Earthlink. They made the switchover without notifying me in person, and it didn't work - I had a dial tone, but my phone didn't ring; calls went straight into the new voicemail that I didn't know I should be checking. I didn't find out about the problem until a friend who had been trying to reach me on the phone for nearly a day finally sent me an e-mail. After several days and hours spent on the phone with tech support, and getting a different story from each person I reached, they finally admitted defeat - there was something about my phone line that wouldn't support the service I'd ordered. However, it wasn't until a few days later, when I called to see if I'd been switched back yet, that I was told that I had to call my former phone company and ask them to ask Earthlink to switch me back. A few days later, my phone is ringing again, but the voicemail still seems to be active. I don't know if I want to get involved in trying to shut it off ...

So, about winds and sensations. Most of my life I have been very aware of sensations in my body, and comfort is one of my highest values. On the other hand, instead of working to fix the uncomfortable sensation, recently I sometimes just hunker down and wait for it to pass (e.g., a headache, I may stretch my neck a bit, but I don't take aspirin or lie down with a heating pad). The above reading suggests that my inaction may be a good thing. On the other hand, there are some remedies for discomfort that also help improve bodily health, like exercises for aches caused by weak muscles.

Of course, the reading is talking about sensations experienced during meditation, which are to be observed with detachment, but I think it also intends to extend its recommendation of detachment to life generally. I'm a little confused about how to relate my desire for enjoyable experiences with a stance of detached observation concerning the outcomes. But logically they can co-exist. Stay tuned.
4:57 pm pdt

Friday, May 19, 2006
Let go of what's worn out

Good advice in today's horoscope:

It's the end of the line for the way you have been thinking about yourself. What worked well for you in the past may have outlived its useful life. Don't try to hold on to concepts that only bring you painful memories. Let the thoughts come into consciousness and then let them pass on. Try conjuring up some of that famous Piscean compassion so you can judge yourself less harshly. Being kind to others starts with you first.

Just today I noticed myself thinking of myself as small, young, and helpless - when in fact I'm none of these things. The thought came up in the context of my wanting to ask questions of a co-worker of mine who is also helping out with a project that has in the past been the province of another office. One inner voice tells me that I'm stupid and indecisive and can't do this without getting help from someone else. But another voice tells me that I've been at this profession for a long time and know what I'm doing. My thoughts are a little scattered just now because I'm picking up the last pieces of that long and horrendously problematic project, and even if they weren't, another person may have a different perspective on my situation that I wouldn't see at the best of times - and vice versa, I have good perspective on others' problems, simply because they aren't mine.

So, I notice the out-of-date self-concept, respond to it, and let it go. At least for now.
1:52 pm pdt

Friday, April 7, 2006
Halting and straining

Since I've had trouble posting, I've been saving up bits of inspiration for a long time. Here's a Buddhist one:

"How, dear sir, did you cross the flood?""By not halting friend, and by not straining I crossed the flood.""But how is it, dear sir, that by not halting and by not straining you crossed the flood?""When I came to a standstill, friend, then I sank; but when I struggled, then I got swept away. It is in this way, friend, that by not halting and by not straining I crossed the flood."
I understand the danger of halting - you can't get anywhere or accomplish anything unless you try and keep on trying until it's done. As one saying has it, "Aim at nothing and you're sure to hit it." Or as Bloody Mary put it, "You gotta have a dream; if you don't have a dream, how you gonna make your dream come true?"

Straining is a bit harder of a concept. The saying suggests it's like struggling. That would mean trying too hard, or trying so hard that energies go in directions other than the one intended. Maybe it's like when I get frantic at work and too much of my attention is focussed on feeling frantic and not enough on getting the work done correctly.

Anyway, it's good advice.
10:19 am pdt

Friday, March 31, 2006
Technical difficulties

I have been trying to post, not very often, but more often than has shown up on the site. My ISP's blogging program has been malfunctioning of late, so at least twice I've written posts and had them disappear when I tried to post them. I've alerted the powers that be about the problem and they claim to be working on it.

In other news. I've been working on this new edition of a six-volume treatise at work, and nearly everything I've tried to turn the authors' files into publishable documents has failed. I was nearly frantic until I decided that nobody was going to rescue me. I needed to just fix the problems myself, by hand. I did so, and now the remaining problems are someone else's headache. I feel so much better now.
11:55 am pst

Monday, February 20, 2006
Pushing the boundary

There's a Dutch proverb that goes:

He who is outside the door has already got a good part of his journey behind him.
It's so true.

I'm a serious procrastinator. And I do my mental health no favors with this habit, because having an undone chore weighing on me feels bad, even if I'm able to cut that feeling short by thinking about other things once I become aware of the feeling. I've learned not to dwell on it, but it still rushes back with every reminder. And at tax time, reminders of the work I'm not doing on my taxes are everywhere.

But there's this boundary between me and an unloved chore, one that takes a special effort to step over, under, or through, before I can actually do the chore. In retrospect, the boundary is very thin, like those rings of paper that circus animals jump through. But looking at it head on, it's solid and off-putting.

The Dutch saying makes perfect sense in this context. Step through the barrier and the job is much, much closer to completion. Take just the first, smallest, actual step towards completion of the chore, and the barrier is gone (more or less).

My mother used to discuss avoiding situations in terms of willingness. Am I willing to do this thing? she would ask herself. And if not, then, am I willing to be made willing? She would then seek divine help to be made willing to be made willing.

My approach is one of avoidance of pain. When the dark cloud of the hovering chore gets too uncomfortable, I find the willingness to take the first step over the boundary, and the rest flows from there.
2:10 pm pst

Friday, February 10, 2006
Retirement or bonus years or ...

I'm taking a class on options for retirement. Its goal is to help the students plumb our pasts to determine what we want to do with ourselves. To find interests and values in our pasts that we now have the opportunity to cultivate. To look for patterns of activities and achievements that help reveal themes that should inform our process of choosing activities in which to invest ourselves. To consider the whole scope of possibilities, including working for a wage or fee or volunteer, to participating in hobbies or studies, or starting up some kind of business or organization. It's precisely the sort of analysis I've been needing to do as I approach retirement.

I already know two pitfalls to watch out for, maybe three. First is perfectionism. Which leads to the belief that there is one perfect plan for my future and that all is lost if I don't discover it. In truth, there are many good enough ways for me to invest myself and spend my time. Also, I get more than one chance at choosing. If something isn't working out, I can try something else. And then I have to watch out for lacking the confidence that I can create or find decent ways to contribute to society while enjoying my freedom from 9 to 5 duty.

Anyway, it's going to be interesting.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Grandpa's pipe

So I took another writing workshop, and was, interestingly, most satisfied with the first piece that I wrote thereat. We were offered a variety of objects and asked to choose one as a writing prompt. I chose a lovely wooden pipe.

Grandpa Vernon smoked a pipe, and he let us kids stuff it with tobacco. The smell of the tobacco was like perfume to me; the smoke from the pipe was a close second. I don't remember what kind of pipe he used, but it might have been a bit like this one, with a curved neck and a smooth wooden bowl that reminds me of a fine recorder.

Years later, I got nostalgic for his pipe and the tobacco, so I went out and bought the cheapest pipe I could find, a corncob, and the best smelling tobacco I could find, laden, like my favorite teas, with fruit scents and sweetness. I loved stuffing the tobacco into the pipe; ny nose grew four inches to grasp all of the scent I could get. But then I lit the pipe, and that took some doing, as tightly as I had stuffed the tobacco, like sausage, into the pipe. I marvel now how Grandpa Vernon ever got his pipe lit, no doubt with leather lungs.

Anyway, I puffed away at the pipe, but the magic was gone, and the smoke stung my eyes. It's the unburned tobacco that I really like. I've since thrown away the pipe, but I keep thinking that I'll buy me some more tobacco.


2:33 pm pst
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Delusions of doom

Boy, did my horoscope hit the nail on the head today. It said:

Whatever you believe can become real, so don't indulge your pessimistic fantasies at this time.

I'm changing medications yet again, and am a bit more susceptible to anxiety than has recently been the case, so I have been experiencing slight physical sensations that I find scary. And I have to tell myself that they're nothing to worry about, and in fact are probably the result of anxiety. As my homeopath put it when the symptoms and fear were particularly fierce, these delusions of doom have got to stop.

So, it's nice to think instead of the weather. We had several days of rain and clouds recently, and then the sun appeared. I was walking with a friend and she commented favorably on the improvement in the weather. Then I said that, if it hadn't been for the rain, we wouldn't appreciate the sun so much. And marveled at myself for voicing so positive, nay nearly Pollyannaish, a sentiment. It would have been truly Pollyanna-like to express the same sentiment while it was raining, but still .... .

I have been proudly pessimistic all my life, with the expressed justification that the only surprises pessimists receive are pleasant ones. Maybe the Prozac is working a bit after all.

Today has been alternately sunny and sprinkly, and when I pointed that out to a friend, she suggested that there might be a rainbow somewhere. Maybe I should nip out for a little walk and look, but a better view - in this downtown area laden with tall office buildings - would be gotten from our own windows on the 25th floor.

Well, it's back to work for me.
2:04 pm pst

Sunday, January 8, 2006
Attitude of gratitude

Today's daily inspiration is a neat little poem:

My mind is a garden. My thoughts are the seeds. My harvest will be either flower or weeds.

It suggests to me the power of positive thinking, and more specifically the gratitude journal that I've been keeping since last March. It was a homework assignment for a class I was taking about getting more satisfaction from life. I was supposed to be noticing patterns about what gave me pleasure and trying to structure my life to get more of those items in my life.

Well. I have been writing down things faithfully lo these nine months or so, but I have not only not been looking for patterns but have barely been spending any time actually being grateful for the items I'm noting down. If I spent even 30 seconds actually thinking about each event, I'd be getting so much more out of the exercise. And if I were to re-read the log every month or so to look for patterns, well, who knows what good might result.

One of my New Year's resolutions is to resume keeping my personal journal at least weekly. And one of the best ways I have to reconstruct my week for that purpose is to look at my gratitude log. So I'll be re-reading it at least a week at a time - which isn't really enough time to see patterns emerge, but is better than not re-reading it at all.

Sometimes to reach a total of at least three items a day I have to log an item that is having gotten through some difficulty in relatively good shape, or with someone's help. Trying to find something positive in relative adversity is a way to practice planting seeds that can bring flowers out of muck.
5:23 pm pst

Monday, January 2, 2006
Practice making a new start

Happy New Year.

This is the time of year when we make resolutions and try to make a fresh start in various areas of our lives. I have made eight New Year's resolutions myself. We have a whole, unspoiled year for self- and world-improvement.

But, actually, each day is a new start. And each day as I leave the house I thank God for giving me the new morning. And we each can take our responsibilities and disciplines one day at a time. I try to take my chores and duties one thing at a time, to keep them from overwhelming me.

But, actually, we get to make a fresh decision about how to act and think every second. That's sixty seconds to the minute, sixty minutes to the hour, 24 hours to the day, 365 days to the year. Lots and lots of opportunities for fresh starts.

Whenever we do something and get a result we don't like, we can usually try to do it better the next time. We don't have to be perfect right off the bat, or for that matter, ever. We just need to keep trying to be better.

As a recent bit of Buddhist wisdom put it:

The more you practice the three trainings of ethics, meditation, and wisdom, the more difficult it will become for you to act in a way that is contrary to an ethical, compassionate attitude.

That's all we need do.

Well, taking advantage of a new start includes letting go of our previous less than stellar attempts, which is easier said than done. Let's try to look forward rather than backwards, though - it's easier on the neck.
4:41 pm pst

Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Flickering flames and life on the fritz

The winter solstice is past and finally the days are starting to get longer - which is why, I think, we increase the number of candles in the chanukkiah from day to day of Chanukkah. If we were not trying to mirror or encourage the increase of daylight, we'd be decreasing the light from eight candles back to one, to show how the sacred oil lasted an entire eight days before running out.

But I am really glad for the increasing light, because I'm having problems with power just now. The electrical system of my elderly car (a 1989 model) has been (to coin a phrase) on the fritz lately. A few months ago, I turned the ignition key and nothing whatsoever happened, not even the faintest grinding sound. After selling me a new battery, which made not a whit of difference, the AAA guy called a tow truck that happened to be staffed by a real mechanic who made it his business to find out what was wrong. He finally located a short in the ignition system in the steering column and fixed it, and the car worked just fine.

Then, last week, I turned the key and got that dispiriting weak grinding noise of a dying battery. Called AAA, got a jump start, and after about two hours of driving around it seemed OK. I figured that I had perhaps failed to close the door all the way, so that the dome light had stayed on and drained the battery. But it happened again this week. Instead of calling AAA, I went out and bought myself the charging device they use. I have charged it up by plugging it in at home, and have studied the instructions carefully, and will apply it to my car as soon as it stops raining. Fortunately my car is parked off the street, so I'm not getting tickets on street cleaning days.

I have the following theories about the electrical problem with my car - 1) I've forgotten how to close the door properly, 2) some accessory has started to drain power when the car is off, 3) the new battery is a dud, or 4) there's some other flaw in the electrical system. I hope to learn how to use the charger safely and effectively until I get the problem figured out and fixed, because I can't be calling AAA every time I need to drive somewhere.

In the meanwhile, it occurred to me that electrical problems might make an interesting metaphor for life. The battery gives the car's engine the power it needs to get started, but then the activity of the car recharges the battery. Similarly, it takes some energy to get out of the house and engaged with one's work or chores or exercise, but then the activities repay that energy with a paycheck or satisfaction or more energy. One can become low on energy through physical illness, mental illness, or spiritual malaise, or by over-extending oneself in work or play. Energy can be restored through a careful mix of rest and exercise, good nutrition, and spiritual seeking.

Can one get a jump start of energy from someone else? Maybe, but I think it would be hard to sustain if it's very different from one's own current level of energy. And, caught up in a transient burst of someone else's energy one might promise to do something that is revealed as impossible the next day.
11:24 am pst

Thursday, December 22, 2005
Mental hygiene

I've been wondering recently how much assistance in achieving desirable states of mind (or avoiding undesirable states of mind) is provided by medication and how much by consciously employing mental or physical practices such as meditation, exercise, affirmations, positive thinking, etc.

For example, I have been finding some relief from the sense of being overwhelmed by pending tasks by reminding myself that I've accomplished them before and by tackling one component of them at a time while resolutely not thinking of the other parts. And it may be that the ability to thus focus my attention is being assisted both by my continuing, if feeble, efforts to meditate and by my medication regime.

On the other hand, if someone were to advise me to perform some emotional exercise whose connection to my mental woes was not obvious to me and whose results I could not readily observe, I would probably be about as likely to adopt it diligently as I am to perform physical exercise - that is, not very likely.

As to medication, although it does seem to be heading off major panic episodes, it appears to be less effective against lesser forms of anxiety. I can feel anxiety lurking just around a metaphorical corner, from which it pops out now and then, despite the rainbow of pills I'm ingesting. So I'm thinking that a two-pronged approach, at least, is what is needed for efficacy.

That is, more attention to what I'm thinking during the day would be helpful, and more effort to meditate, and more relaxation techniques. And as to a third prong, more of a spiritual approach, too. I've been lagging in synagogue attendance recently because my event-filled weeks have left me a bit tired by Friday night. Gotta get myself there more regularly.

I've also been thinking of the twelve-step approach to addictive malaise. They say that you're liable to slip into addictive behavior if you let yourself become too HALT - hungry, angry, lonely, or tired. I can see those conditions being conducive to mental woes of all kinds.

I've also been wrestling with boredom lately, and wondering if it belongs in that catalog of triggers. It seems closely related to loneliness, in that boredom seldom occurs when one is with other people unless one has become detached from them. But being alone does not have to amount to boredom, or loneliness for that matter, if one is engaged in some activity. So, I'm thinking that 'I'm lonely' means about the same thing as 'I'm bored,' and that some engaging activity, with or without other people, will suffice to mitigate either state of mind.

I'm about ready to leave work for my usual Christmas to New Year's vacation, for which I don't have any travel or festivities planned. There's one piece of furniture I want to buy and one small piece of home repair I want to get done, and maybe a yoga class or two to attend, but otherwise, I see a lot of sleeping, reading, crocheting, and TV watching in my future. I hope that if boredom or loneliness looms, I will find engaging activities to keep them at bay and perhaps to accomplish something worthwhile.
9:57 am pst

Sunday, December 18, 2005
Change is my friend

Today's wise saying is:

Do not ask the Lord to guide your footsteps, if you are not willing to move your feet.

It recalls to mind the gambit described in Games People Play concerning advice being given and rejected between people - "Why don't you ...?" "Yes, but ..." Where a person ostensibly asks for advice but finds a reason for rejecting every offered proposal, thus revealing a deep-seated resistance to change.

We can be uncomfortable in a situation and even be seeking advice or guidance about it but still be unwilling to actually change our behavior or expectations. And, as any twelve-stepper knows, one definition of craziness is doing the same thing over and over and expecting the results to be different.

Willingness to change is not my strong suit. But at least awareness that change might be desirable in some areas is a step closer to being able to change than complete unawareness of any possible need for change.
11:46 am pst

Monday, December 12, 2005
Aim at heaven

Today's general inspirational saying (it's Christian, actually) and bit of Buddhist wisdom seem to cover about the same territory from different angles. C.S. Lewis wrote:

Aim at Heaven and you will get Earth thrown in. Aim at Earth and you get neither.
And the Buddhist saying is:

Form is suffering. The cause and condition for the arising of form is also suffering. As form has originated from what is suffering, how could it be happiness?
Of course, it depends on what you mean by 'form' and by the 'cause and condition for the arising of form,' which is language that I find rather opaque. But in the light of the C.S. Lewis quote, ah. We aim for heaven by exercising our spirits, by discerning the spiritual force that created and maintains the universe, by seeking to align our ways with the ways of the divine, by striving to cause no harm by word or deed, by seeking others' good, etc.

Aiming at earth suggests avarice and greed. Seeking first of all our own comfort and richness, power and glory, stepping on others to prevent ourselves from being stepped on, believing that might makes right, believing that the physical world is all that there is.

Now, in that light, 'form' can be understood to mean the physical world to the exclusion of all else, to mean an attachment to the world that causes suffering, or even all kinds of attachments, which cause suffering. I can't believe that it refers to all things regardless of attachment, because there is room for pleasures and joy in life even in the Buddhist worldview (I think) as long as they are accepted without grasping.

So in Buddhist thought, letting go of attachment brings enlightenment and joy, as Christian spirituality brings both heavenly joy and earthly pleasures. Jewish thought places more emphasis on bringing God into earthly pleasures, or seeing the pleasures as reminders of God's love, which is another approach to the same basic concepts.
4:21 pm pst

Sunday, December 11, 2005
Seven deadly sins, or is it six fetters?

A recent Buddhist posting lists the six fetters of non-liberation: great hatred, great avarice, great ignorance, great lust, great envy, and great pride. My first thought was that this list bears a great resemblance to the seven deadly sins of the Catholics, which are pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, and sloth.

The lists both contain pride, lust, and envy. Avarice and greed are essentially the same fault. And anger and hatred are closely related. The Buddhist list has ignorance, which the other list lacks, and the Catholic list has sloth and gluttony, which the Buddhist list lacks. But I think that both traditions could endorse at least some of the thinking behind each of those items.

Entire volumes have been written on the nature of these sins, fetters, or shortcomings, so I feel no need to get into it here. It is interesting, though, that each of those states shares the characteristic that it hijacks our thought processes and decision-making abilities, and colors our world view with its own characteristic filter. When we are in thrall to any of these conditions, we lose track of our own best interests and those of others and make poor decisions. We especially tend to focus on immediate gratification at the expense of long-term benefits.

Take sloth, for example - please. One of my besetting sins, it keeps me from forming a lasting exercise regime. I get into something for a while, yoga, calisthenics, walking, and then lose interest, start to find the routine uninviting, and decide to skip it for a day or two and then - whoops - it's gone. Then it takes me another while to build up pressure enough to get back into motion, and then we go through the cycle again. Color me fettered, periodically.

Another thing I noticed about the lists was that the Buddhist list says that "great" anger is the problem, not just anger. This approach allows us to experience some small degree of these states before they become full-fledged fetters, whereas the Catholic approach seems to see even the smallest amount of anger as a deadly sin, which is pretty unrealistic by me.

Although avoiding these fetters and sins is a good idea, finding opportunities to foster good attitudes and activities strikes me as a better one. So, let's not only seek to avoid the negative but also accentuate the positive.
1:54 pm pst

Friday, December 9, 2005
Attachments come unstuck

eventually, or so says this bit of Buddhist wisdom:

There simply is nothing to which we can attach ourselves, no matter how hard we try. In time, things will change and the conditions that produced our current desires will be gone. Why then cling to them now?

I'm not so sure about the first sentence. If it were literally true, there would be no need to teach against attachment. What I think it means is both that attachments don't produce happiness and that the object attached to or the attachment itself will fail or fade after a certain time.

For example, we can attach ourselves to a person, but the person will eventually change, leave us, or die, and the attachment itself is a fragile thing anyway.

The point of the saying is that the cause of the attachment will fade in time, and in the meanwhile it is causing harm to us - whether it is fulfilled or not. So it is wisest not to cling to the desire (which includes trying to fulfill it) but instead to turn one's attention elsewhere and wait for it to pass.

Which sounds all well and good, but may be difficult to put into practice. Some desires are legitimate needs instead of problematic desires, e.g., Wanting dinner or money to pay the mortgage seems acceptable to me - my stomach and the bank wouldn't accept it if I just waited for those desires to pass. Probably a good place to start separating attachments from legitimate wants is the eight-fold path or ten commandments or whatever ethical system you endorse. I think that the desire to engage in any behavior that fulfills one of these ethical imperatives is probably not an attachment to be avoided.

But it may also be to some extent the degree of investment in addition to the object that constitutes attachment. So perhaps there can be too much of a good thing, i.e., too much attention lavished in a good cause could constitute an attachment.

Anyway, In time, things will change and the conditions that produced our current desires will be gone. and there is nothing so certain as change. And nothing so futile as attempts to keep things the same (writes she who is thoroughly change-averse). So it's a good idea to at least try to tread lightly in life and not cling too tightly to anything, knowing that all things, and people, are subject to change without notice.
2:07 pm pst

Wednesday, December 7, 2005
The Busyness of Life

Here's a bit of Buddhist wisdom especially suited to the holiday shopping season:

How very happily we live, free from busyness among those who are busy. Among busy people, free from busyness we dwell.

I see this saying as making a distinction between the necessary business of life - caring for our bodies, keeping a roof over our heads, and making our contribution to the world - and unnecessary busyness - addictive behaviors, greedy over-acquisition, gluttony, obsessions and compulsions, and so on.

It also refers, I think, to the spirit in which we approach our days, in a frantic, scattered way or in a calm centered way.

One example of scatteredness that occurred to me when I thought about this saying is my committee - a group of voices in my mind that speaks up from time to time when a charged subject comes to my attention. When the committee is in session, at least two conflicting voices clamor for my attention, with the usual result that I am agitated and paralyzed. I can also get paralyzed when I have too many projects awaiting my attention, or a single project that seems overwhelming. Whether it's business or busyness, the committee is undecided about whether I will be able to get the job(s) done, with the result that I put off even starting them.

Sometimes, though, my committee acquires a chairperson. A calm, motherly sort of woman stands up and tells the frightened voices that she has heard them, but that past experience shows that the fears are unfounded. I have done these tasks before, so I can do them again. Or if I haven't done them before, then other people have, and I'm as smart and capable as most people. And if the project(s) seem overwhelming in size, the chair tells the gang that I don't have to do it all at once. I do one step, which I can do, and then I do the next step, which I can do, just focus on one step at a time. I can do that.

And if I have several chores of varying degrees of difficulty in the queue, sometimes picking off the easier ones can help build my confidence enough to help me push through the barrier surrounding more difficult chores.
2:56 pm pst

Sunday, November 27, 2005
Sailing with an even keel

I've been back on my most successful medication, the one that includes Prozac, for about a month now, and I'm beginning to see again how much more efficacious it is than the other medicines.

When I think about what's happening in my life now and what's coming in the near future, I don't feel worried or anxious or guilty. I'm even catching up on long-neglected chores, because I'm no longer paralyzed by the 'boundary trauma' that kept me from taking the first step of accomplishing them. I'm not fretting about a concert that I'll be playing in next Saturday; it will go as well or poorly as it will go and then it will be over.

Actually, the only thing that I'm the least bit concerned about is my plans to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. I usually have some trouble distinguishing between excitement and anxiety, you see. And I might get too excited at the big-screen adventures of my favorite wizard and have the excitement slide into significant anxiety. On the other hand, if having more fun than I can handle is the biggest of my worries, I'm in pretty good shape. Thanks be.
5:30 pm pst

Friday, November 25, 2005
Control and joy

Here's an interesting bit of Buddhist wisdom:

It is good to control your words and thoughts. The seeker who is in control feels free and joyful. Listen to that seeker who guards his tongue and speaks wisely. Such a one is humble and does not exalt himself.
Not having as much control over my thoughts and speech as I'd like, I can't vouch for the accuracy of this sentiment, but I can sure analyze the heck out of it. Mostly I wonder if there's supposed to be a cause-and-effect relationship between the two types of control and the two states described. That is, does controlling one's thoughts lead to feeling free and joyful, and controlling one's speech lead to humility? Maybe.

Or maybe the relationship is circular: Feeling free and joyful leads to feelings of humility which lead to the controlling of one's speech, which leads to controlling one's thoughts, which leads to feelng free and joyful, etc.

Or maybe there's no special connection between the two types of control and the two states of mind; they're all desirable goals and they all influence each other.

I do sometimes try to control my thoughts to the extent of pushing out or turning away from anxiety-inducing thoughts that have no basis in fact (one doctor called them 'delusions of doom'). I also try not to dwell on other unhelpful thoughts that come to my attention. As to controlling what I say, I do that some of the time, too. I even occasionally speak wisely. And, while feelings of freedom, joy, and humility are not daily occurrences for me, they are also not entirely unknown. So, who knows, maybe there's something in this saying!
6:12 pm pst

Thursday, November 24, 2005
Thanksgiving

Today's bit of Buddhist wisdom is from the Buddha himself, and is remarkably modern in tone:

Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn’t learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn’t learn a little, at least we didn’t get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn’t die; so, let us be thankful.

I think it seems so modern because it's so pragmatic in approach. It keeps to the basic and universal and true. Anybody who is reading the words is probably learning a little, and is certainly alive - and these are things worthy of thanksgiving. And with a little thought we can probably find a few other matters in our lives for which to be thankful.

For example, I've made a mental note to again thank the friend who hooked me up with my cat Molly, who is the sweetest and most beautiful cat with whom I've shared a home. And my thankfulness goes beyond the friend to God, who is behind all things and doings.

Speaking of which, I'm going to be doing Thanksgiving at friends' apartment this year, and am grateful for that as well.

Happy Turkey Day.

11:38 am pst
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Almost but not quite there

I wanted to think out loud for a bit about this phenomenon that I've experienced often when driving to a place that I've driven to before. After I've made the last turn, I drive for a while and start to lose confidence that I'm still heading towards my goal - I start thinking that I should have reached my destination by now, and that I must have inadvertently driven past it.

It's a form of impatience, no doubt. I've navigated all the turns correctly and I want my reward now. But why should I suspect myself of having made an error when I've done the right thing so far? Simply because the long-awaited arrival hasn't taken place yet?

I dunno. Maybe there's no moral to this story.
3:31 pm pst

Monday, November 21, 2005

Moral, morals, and morale

I've been wondering a bit about the connection, or not, between these concepts.

As a writer and editor, I start with the dictionary. 'Moral' is both a noun and an adjective. As a noun, it means 'the moral significance or practical lesson (as of a story)' or a 'passage pointing out the lesson to be drawn from a story.'

'Moral' the adjective means 'ethical,' 'expressing or teaching a conception of right behavior,' 'conforming to a standard of right behavior,' etc.

'Moral' the noun is closer in meaning to 'moral' the adjective when it is in the plural; 'morals' are 'moral practices, or modes of conduct.'

'Morale' began close in meaning to 'moral,' but branched out. It originally meant 'moral principles, teachings, or conduct,' but it then developed the meaning of the 'mental and emotional condition of an individual or group with regard to the function or tasks at hand,' and thence to a 'sense of common purpose with respect to a group,' and thence to the 'level of individual psychological well-being based on such factors as a sense of purpose and confidence in the future.'

Then there's 'demoralize,' which started out to mean 'to corrupt the morals of,' but has come to mean 'to weaken the morale or,' to discourage or dispirit,' 'to upset or destroy the normal functioning of,' or 'to throw into disorder.'

So, the moral of a story is the moral lesson contained in it, or the sentence pointing out the lesson taught by it. Morale may have sprung from its original meaning of moral conduct via a concept such as 'right livelihood,' meaning that one should feel satisfaction in one's labors if they are to a good end. And if one's efforts are directed towards ill ends or are frustrated by others, then one may well feel demoralized. Or if no useful work is available and one is unable to think of something worthwhile to do, then one might also be demoralized.

In theory, though, a relatively healthy human being has little excuse for being demoralized by boredom, because there are always useful things that one can do, even while riding the bus or waiting in line. A sense of purpose and confidence in the future, however, are not always easily come by; they may be unavailable, for example, to a person who is depressed.

One arena where the issue of morale arose for many of us was 'school spirit.' Why this concept invariably arose in the context of sports eluded me. It should also have applied to a school's choirs, debate teams, knowledge bowl teams, computer programmers, etc. Let's hear it for the nerds!

Well, I'm rambling a bit. May our morals and morale be high.
1:58 pm pst

Friday, November 11, 2005
Nifty sights

I saw two wonders of nature yesterday. In the morning there were puffy gray clouds that covered much of the sky. Through a rift in the clouds, however, shone rays from the sun. I couldn't see the sun itself, but the lines of the rays were drawn clearly from the rent in the clouds to the ground.

In the afternoon I saw a flock of birds swooping and soaring in the sky. They all turn at once, right and left, and back and forth, and up and down. They seem to change in shape as they turn in the air. I believe that they are gathering insects from the sky, but whatever they're doing, it's magical, and I've been known to sit down and just watch them until my neck gets sore.

There are specific Jewish blessings for various kinds of natural wonders. I continue to struggle with the concept of using canned blessings for specific situations.

It seems to me that there must have been a particularly holy man who was in the habit of thanking God for the good things in his life and he got into the habit of using particular prayers for them, and his followers so wanted to be like him that they copied every word that came from his mouth in the hope that it would make them as holy as he was.

I'm pretty sure that we and God get the full benefit of our wonder and gratitude as long as it is from the heart, no matter how it is expressed.
2:17 pm pst

Tuesday, November 8, 2005
Comfortable habits

There's a saying that goes:

Bad habits are like a comfortable bed, easy to get into, but hard to get out of.

I got to wondering what qualifies as a bad habit for purposes of this saying. Any habit that's easy to get into? Any habit that seeks to increase our comfort?

To avoid the easy and shun the comfortable seem to me like a cross between the ascetic and the pathological. On the other hand, a complete focus on ease and comfort errs in the opposite direction. This strikes me as a happy medium or golden mean area.

Take exercise, for example. It's easiest to avoid it altogether, and it seems comfortable to do so. Then, however, the body begins to fall apart, and the discomfort of not exercising begins to overtake the discomfort of exercising. One then wants to gradually develop a habit of doing whatever form of gentle exercise is sufficiently pleasant (or least repulsive) to stick.
4:25 pm pst

Friday, November 4, 2005
Desires achieved

A recent bit of Buddhist wisdom was:

Desires achieved increase thirst like salt water.

I've noticed that happening with respect to eating. Some foods I really can't eat just one of - unless I've thought it through in advance and promised myself not to. A friend of mine calls such foods 'moreish,' because they leave you wanting more.

In a related vein, I've been noticing the anticipatory sadness that I feel towards the end of a particularly pleasant experience. Because I know it's going to end soon, and then it will be over. And I wish it could continue indefinitely.

Of course, that's not the most skillful way to view things, and maybe I should be appreciating the experience even more as the end nears, but that's not the way it's working for me just now.

Just a couple of thoughts on a Friday afternoon.
4:28 pm pst

Tuesday, November 1, 2005
Degrees of knowing

I was standing in the elevator the other day with a woman I did not know, and another woman boarded the elevator and greeted her, perhaps by name. The first woman returned the greeting, and they both got off on the same floor.

Nothing unusual about that, but it got me to thinking that they knew each other and wondering how well they knew each other. I have known people in many varying degrees of closeness, and I imagine that there are many more gradations of knowing with which I'm unfamiliar.

My levels of knowing are something like the following:
Her face looks a bit familiar.
I know her from somewhere.
I think she works in my building
I bet she goes to synagogue.
I'd recognize her name if I heard it.
That's Joan Smith.
I've got a good /bad feeling about her.
I think we did/went to Y together.
I always thought she was a Z kind of person.
When she comes to mind, I pray for her - May she be kind and loving; may she be peaceful and at ease; may she be well; may she be happy.
I accept invitations from her.
I make invitations to her.
I know some things she dis/likes.
I can finish her sentences.
I know when she's feeling tired or in pain.
I can answer questions before she asks them.
10:26 am pst

Monday, October 31, 2005
Comfort and enthusiasm

Today's quote comes from Charles Kingsley:

We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all that we need to make us really happy is something to be enthusiastic about.

Comfort has been one of my chief goals in life. I think that this value came to me from my paternal grandfather, who, along with Grandma, raised me and my brother through elementary school. He enjoyed smoking cigars and reading the newspaper and always wore comfortable clothes. I was dressed up like a little doll some of the time, and, once I had control over my own clothes, also made comfort the determining factor.

In terms of bodily discomfort, however, my response is not always geared to relieving it as soon as possible. E.g., when I have a cold, I don't usually think to take medications that assuage the symptoms. I mostly wait to feel better, but sometimes work on strengthening my immune system or trying to beat the underlying infection.

In general, though, I seek comfort, even though other values might be more fulfilling and praiseworthy. Oh well.

On rereading this entry, I noticed that I forgot to write anything about enthusiasm. That shows where my head is at. The word comes from Greek roots meaning filled with God. To use Latin roots instead, an enthusiastic person is inspired by something, lifted above himself or herself by a consuming interest in something outside herself or himself.

Having something to be enthusiastic about does tend to make one happy. I feel good when I'm excited about an artistic project, a development at work, an upcoming massage, a new purchase, a natural wonder, or an engrossing concept. I've even used explaining a legal concept as treatment for a panic attack, and pretty effective it is, too.

Enthusiasm is fun; it lowers stress and stimulates the production of endorphins and does all that other good stuff for us. Unless the subject of the enthusiasm is illegal, or unless it slips over into mania or addiction, it's pretty hard to have too much enthusiasm.

Good stuff, enthusiasm.
11:47 am pst

Sunday, October 30, 2005
Disciplined mind

Today's bit of Buddhist wisdom is as follows:

It is necessary to cultivate some discipline of mind, for an undisciplined mind always finds excuses to act selfishly and thoughtlessly. When the mind is undisciplined, the body is also undisciplined, and so is speech and action.

Try though I might, I haven't been able to instill much discipline into my mind. My meditation practice could be more focused and persistent, I suppose, but I have spent at least a few minutes each day trying to meditate.

The effects of an undisciplined mind, however, I experience often. I have often said that I have a committee in my mind, with several different voices clamoring for my attention, especially when I have decisions to make. When I pay heed to the loudest voice, it often leads me in less than ideal directions. Laziness, for example, usually drowns out the small voice touting the beneficial effects of exercise.

I can see how there would be ripple effects from a disciplined mind. Meanwhile, I'll keep working on meditation and hope for the best.
6:26 pm pst

Friday, October 28, 2005
The father of all musicians

Today's reading is from the first Torah portion of the annual cycle, from the beginning of the book of Genesis:

Lamech took to himself two wives: the name of the one was Adah, and the name of the other was Zillah. Adah bore Jabal; he was the ancestor of those who dwell in tents and amidst herds. And the name of his brother was Jubal; he was the ancestor of all who play the lyre and the pipe. As for Zillah, she bore Tubal-cain, who forged all implements of copper and iron. And the sister of Tubal-cain was Naamah.

Let's skip lightly over the matter of polygamy - such arrangements were not uncommon in those days.

What interests me in this portion is Jubal, the ancestor of all who play the lyre and the pipe, that is, stringed instruments and wind instruments. This suggests that musical interests and abilities ran in families, which I believe that they do - to a certain extent. Think of the Trapp Family Singers, and the Boone family, and the Romero guitar dynasty. In my own family, my father played piano and my mother sang. I play rudimentary piano and sing, and play guitar and recorders.

However, musical talents also crop up in otherwise unmusical families, although they may not receive a whole lot of nurturing there.

I also get the picture of Biblical musicianship as a kind of guild, one that was open only to members of the musical family. Where there were family secrets of music making that were not disseminated outside the chosen few.

I wonder also about instrument making. It must have been part of the deal; I can't imagine that important a part of the musical craft being laid outside the magic circle.

And I imagine that music making at least began as a male only occupation. However, Biblical women are reported as having written great poetry, at least some of which they sang. So, they were at least allowed to sing, and to play instruments enough to accompany themselves on the lyre or timbrel.

Anyway, let's hear it for Jubal, the ancestor of all musicians.
9:44 am pdt

Monday, October 24, 2005
MIndful recorder playing

Here's a little something I wrote for the newsletter of the San Francisco Chapter of the American Recorder Society. Since I've become president of the chapter, I've been volunteered to write a monthly message for the newsletter. Here's my most recent offering:

I’ve been a practitioner of Transcendental Meditation for many years, off and on. It’s a form of mantra meditation, where you repeat a certain word or words silently over and over again, trying to keep any any other thought or image from entering your mind. There are many other forms of meditation, such as counting one’s breaths, looking at a candle, following each train of thought for a few seconds and then letting it go, and so on.

The main point of meditation is to quiet one’s mind, so one can relate to life in a more vibrant and authentic way. Learning to think of one thing at a time also helps one to be more mindful, that is, to be focused on the present and not on the past or future. To be fully present in the moment, and not absent minded. To borrow a phrase, to be here now.

Playing music both furthers meditative goals and reveals how well we are progressing towards those goals. To play music well, we have to be fully present to it, with our minds completely focused on each note and phrase as it passes. If we stop to think about how well or poorly we are playing, then we lose focus and the playing suffers. However, sometimes we can notice our attention drifting away and are able to wrestle it back into focus before our playing falls apart.

Let us play recorders mindfully and enjoy both the music itself and the benefits of our musical meditation.
1:52 pm pdt

Saturday, October 22, 2005
Metaphors for God

And here's the other sermon:

The other day I was standing on a hillside in Noe Valley and looking towards downtown. Where I was, the fog had started rolling in and the sky was gray. Not so downtown, which was still in the bright sun. I thought at the time that it was somehow sad to be under the clouds while it was sunny nearby. But now I think differently.

The sun is always shining. It sheds its life-giving warmth and light on the Earth at all times. We may not see the sun because our part of the world is turned away from it, or because clouds are coming between us and the sun, but it is always there in the sky.

So too is our relationship with God. The Creator of the universe is always there, giving life to all and illuminating the world with sparks of holiness.

The sun is as near to us as our skin, which it warms, yet is unimaginably distant from Earth. So too God is as near to us as our breathing yet is indescribably Other.

We humans, and plants, and animals need the sun to prosper and grow, yet give us too much sun and we burn or go blind. Experiencing the presence of God can exalt us, and comfort us, and fill us with joy and peace, but we cannot look directly at God and live.

These features of the son made it an object of worship by early peoples, for example, the Egyptians who worshiped the sun god Ra. Some of the nations of Canaan worshiped not only the sun but also the moon and stars. In Devarim chapter 4, "And when you look up to the sky and behold the sun and the moon and the stars, the whole heavenly host, you must not be lured into bowing down to them or serving them. These Adonai your God allotted to the other peoples everywhere under heaven."

That’s not to prevent us from being thankful for the sun. Without it there would be no life on earth. But it is part of God’s creation, not a god. "God made the two great lights, the greater light to dominate the day and the lesser light to dominate the night, and the stars. And God set them in the expanse of the sky to shine upon the earth, to dominate the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that this was good." We praise God for the creation of the ‘heavenly host’ in the Ma’ariv Aravim prayer, "With wisdom You open the gates of dawn. You create day and night, rolling light away from darkness and darkness away from light."
Although the sun is not to be worshiped, it is a valid reason for thanks, and is an excellent metaphor for God.

The Torah and prayerbook present many metaphors for God, God as creator, God as redeemer, God as monarch, God as parent. I’d like to look into a metaphor that appears in this week’s Torah and Haftarah portions.

Our Torah portion was introduced in last week’s portion, where God tells Moses that the Israelites will "act wickedly and turn away from the path which I enjoined upon you, and that in time to come misfortune will befall you for having done evil in the sight of Adonai and vexed Him by your deeds." God tells Moses to "write down this poem and teach it to the people of Israel; put it in their mouths, in order that this poem may be My witness against the people of Israel."
So our portion is a long poem in which Moses extols the goodness of God and decries the wickedness of Israel.

The primary metaphor for God in the poem is ‘the rock.’ This metaphor is common in Scripture and song. The word for rock in Hebrew is tsur, as in Tsur Yisrael, from the Shacharit service, where we sing: ‘O Rock of Israel, come to Israel’s help.’ In Maoz Tsur, a Chankah song, we sing, "Rock of Ages, let our song praise Thy saving power." At the end of Psalm 19 come the words Adonai Tzuri v Goali, "May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you, O God, my rock and my redeemer."

The Torah portion proclaims God as the Rock, whose deeds are perfect and whose ways are just; a faithful God, never false, true and upright." In the statement that God is never false, the poem appears to mean that God keeps God’s promises and speaks only what is true. The concept of rock suggests a reference to the unchanging nature of God. This image paints God as fixed, solid, like a rock. Even though God cannot be completely described and has at least as many descriptions as there are people, this metaphor suggests that we can count on God to be the same over the eons, even if our perceptions of God change mightily over time.

Later on Moses’ poem charges Israel with having forsaken the God who made us and spurned the Rock of our support. Rock is good for supporting houses; it makes a fine material for the foundation of a house because it is strong and holds its shape. Houses built on rock withstand wind and rain, and earthquake. This metaphor suggests that God is unshakeable, unmovable. When we base our lives on God, we have a permanent support.

The Haftarah, which is a song of David, calls God "my crag, my fastness, my deliverer! O God, the rock wherein I take shelter, my shield, my mighty champion, my fortress and refuge, my savior." One shelter made of rock would be a cave. A person in a cave is protected from the elements, and is somewhat shielded from wild animals and attackers. Rock also comes in the form of a fortress, with strong walls that protect against enemies. It’s a little harder seeing rock in the guise of a champion and deliverer. Perhaps we’re talking about rocks as weapons, flung at one’s enemies by means of a sling or catapult. These metaphors picture God as saving us from our enemies and enabling us to conquer them. As to what enemies we need God’s help to conquer, I’ll leave that for each of you to decide.

Like the sun, God sheds life-giving warmth and light on the Earth at all times. Like rock, God is our support, shelter, and fortress. May we each know God as the sun in our lives and as the rock of our refuge. Kein y’hi ratson.

6:27 pm pdt

Sermon on contracts

Sorry about the long delay. I've been writing sermons and co-leading services and doing all sorts of other stuff.

Here's the first of my two recent sermons:

This week's portion, Nitzavim, is the climax of Moses's last oration. Primarily, it summarizes the covenant between God and Israel, and states the benefits that will result from keeping the covenant and the sanctions that will follow its breach.

Now, covenant is just a fancy word for contract. And a contract, as anyone who has been to law school knows, is formed from three elements, offer, acceptance, and consideration. Consideration, in this context, does not mean being thoughtful. It means that there is a quid pro quo, that each party to the contract does something for or gives something to the other party.
The party of the second part in this contract is individual Jews. The opening of this portion says that the covenant is being entered into by all of the people, tribal heads, elders and officials, all the men of Israel, their children and wives, even the stranger within the camp. And it is being entered into both with "those who are standing here with us this day before Adonai our God and with those who are not with us here this day." That is, Jews of all times and all places.
The idea of standing before God suggests the tradition of standing in the presence of royalty. It brings to mind the practice of standing during the major prayers in the service. Then there’s standing to take an oath, to mark the solemnity and importance of the occasion. Of course the people may also have been standing simply to hear better.

The covenant was formed when God gave the commandments to Moses and the people agreed to follow them. Offer and acceptance. The consideration is that both parties have accepted obligations: Israel to follow God's commandments and God to take care of Israel.

In this portion God promises to establish Israel as God's people, to inflict curses on our enemies and foes, and to grant abounding prosperity in all our undertakings, the issue of our womb (a provision that is presumably addressed to the women in attendance), the offspring of our cattle, and the produce of our soil. We promise to return to God and heed the divine commands with all our heart and soul.

The penalties for us breaking this contract are severe. In law school, we learned that there is no moral fault in breaking contracts; we can break contracts all day long if we are willing and able to pay the other party for all damages resulting from the breach. For the person who breaks our contract with God, however, especially by worshiping the gods of other nations, the penalties are fierce. "Adonai will never forgive him; rather will Adonai's anger and passion rage against that man, till every sanction recorded in this book comes down upon him, and Adonai blots out his name from under heaven." Being more specific, the portion lists misfortune, plagues, and infertile soil as resulting from breach of the covenant.

Part of the portion seems as if it were written much later, after the destruction of the temple and the dispossession of the Jews: "When all these things befall you–the blessing and the curse that I have set before you–and you take them to heart amidst the various nations to which Adonai your God has banished you, and you return to Adonai your God, and you and your children heed His command with all your heart and soul, just as I enjoin upon you this day, then Adonai your God will restore your fortunes and take you back in love. He will bring you together again from all the peoples where Adonai your God has scattered you. ... And Adonai your God will bring you to the land which your fathers occupied, and you shall occupy it; and He will make you more prosperous and more numerous than your fathers."

Towards the end of the portion, Moses tells the people: Surely, this instruction which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond reach. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, "Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?" Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, "Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?" No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it."

No secret teachings need to be discovered to follow the covenant. All is open and simple. At least it seemed so then. In the intervening years much has been written about the Torah and many many fences have been built around it, and there is plenty of teaching that is neither open nor simple. However, the basic question is simple - do we accept this contract or reject it?
The last paragraph of this portion is as follows:

See, I set before you this day life and prosperity, death and adversity. For I command you this day, to love Adonai your God, to walk in God's ways, and to keep God's commandments, God's laws, and God's rules, that you may thrive and increase, and that Adonai your God may bless you in the land that you are about to enter and possess. But if your heart turns away and you give no heed, and are lured into the worship and service of other gods, I declare to you this day that you shall certainly perish; you shall not long endure on the soil that you are crossing the Jordan to enter and possess. I call heaven and earth to witness against you this day: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life–if you and your offspring would live–by loving Adonai your God, heeding God's commands and holding fast to God. For thereby you shall have life and shall long endure upon the soil that Adonai your God swore to your ancestors, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, to give to them."

This paragraph uses three phrases to describe breaching the covenant, by turning our hearts away from God, paying no heed to God's commandments, and being lured into the worship of other gods. Making it a breach to turn one’s heart away from God sounds like an there’s an emotional component to the covenant. That it is not only our will and deeds that are involved, but also our thoughts and feelings. And the ritual observances, from Shabbat through Tisha b’Av and the High Holy Days do have their appropriate feelings - joy, grief, remorse. I find it hard to feel an emotion just because the calendar says that it’s time for that emotion. But coming together in a community and reading the prayers and singing the songs all help to create and fortify the appropriate mood.

Paying heed to the commandments should be simple, but Reform Jews have adopted a flexible approach to adopting and adhering to the commandments. And the complexities of determining which commandments are no longer meaningful are a subject beyond the scope of this sermon.
What does it mean to be lured into the worship and service of other gods? Most of us don’t sacrifice to Moloch or Baal these days, or worship fetishes of wood and stone, silver and gold, or bow down to the sun and moon and stars. On the other hand, I do read my horoscope, and occasionally call on the parking goddess for help. God’ll probably get me for that. But, no, the worship that threatens our relationship with God these days is more apt to be placing something before our obligations as Jews. Most of us at least occasionally worship some of the gods of the 21st century, such as materialism, hedonism, selfishness, arrogance, and stinginess. And most of us could profit from pondering the nature of our personal gods in this time of self-examination and repentance. But there will be help for us in that endeavor. As the portion says: "Then the LORD your God will open up your heart and the hearts of your offspring to love the LORD your God with all your heart and soul, in order that you may live."
6:23 pm pdt

Saturday, October 1, 2005
Faith moves mountains/us

Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav wrote:

Faith is the foundation of all spiritual quest...the root of all teaching and practice...the channel for every benefit and blessing.

He's got an important point there. I'm defining faith in this context as the belief that what we do and who we are is important - that it makes some difference to the universe, or even just to ourselves, how we think and behave.

Without that belief, there's no reason to work on ourselves, to try to get more in touch with the universe and with the best within ourselves. Without that belief, there's no reason to meet with like-minded others, to study, or to pray. Without that belief, there's not even reason to get out of bed, let alone to go to work. Unless what we do matters in some way, why bother? Unless we view the day as a gift, there isn't much reason to go out to receive it, and to want to share the gift with others.

Without faith that Someone hears our prayers, why pray? Or at least, without faith that praying helps us, why pray?

Which brings me to the hours to be spent in synagogue for the High Holy Days. When I look at the number and length of services involved (and am very grateful that I'm not leading any of them), I start to feel weak at the knees and a bit faint. As Ashleigh Brilliant put it (more or less): I try to take things one day at a time, but sometimes several days gang up on me at once.

But I don't need to let them gang up on me. By 'being here now,' I can avoid thinking ahead and letting all of the events land on me at once. I'll be attending the services one at a time, and can limit my attention and strength to that service then. Any other approach is counter-productive.

Also, I just read this neat article about reading in the synagogue during boring bits of the service, - uplifting spiritual materials, of course, but nonetheless something other than the prayerbook. Apparently some rabbis even encourage congregants to do this. As it happens, I own one of the books that was recommended in the article and plan to tuck it into my tallis bag this year.

Anyway, a sweet and healthy 5766 to you all.
12:20 pm pdt