High Holy Days Writings

Andrew Ramer hosted another gathering at CSZ to listen to words and look at images of the journey towards forgiveness, and then write our own words or draw our own images. We had three writing periods, and much of what I wrote was whining about my own mishegoss about being lazy.

Here are a few bits that seemed to be worth sharing.

I am often struck by the line in our machsor that says we have sinned against God "as long as we cannot be hopeful." It takes hope to imagine that I can change for the better. It takes hope to even recognize the glints of good that I currently have. It takes an act of hope to remember the unity of God and humanity and to remember that I am a part of humanity.
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So how do I kindly and gently, and with curiosity and humor, recognize all the recalcitrant parts of myself, and persuade us that we're all on the same team? That we'll accomplish more and be happier if we achieve consensus and act mindfully much of the time? Perfection is neither possible nor desirable, but some improvement and awareness are both possible and good.

I'd like to have compassion for myself when I get stuck in an unskillful place, and recognize that it is only where I happen to be right now, and that I can be in a totally different place a breath and a smile from now.

Hope can return when I use the tools that I know work - journaling, mneditating, taking a walk, stretching. Just even remembering to breathe with awareness. I can notice that each breath is a new one, but/and that I'm inhaling many molecules that originated in the stars and have been breathed before by many, many people over the millenia since they were created.

As I breathe, I can remember that I am a living organism, a sentient being who lives and grows and changes every moment. And that I am also part of the webs of life that are my shul, neighborhood, city, state, country, hemisphere, and planet.
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I want to write a poem with such beautiful images of heaven on earth that reading it would lift anyone's heart, would give hope to the most depressed and despairing person, would bring a smile or a tear to any face. I want to write a picture so beautiful that it creates in all who read it a yearning to be better, a yearning to live in hope, and the recognition that this beauty is here and now, right here, right now.

Free Hugs?

August was a particularly full month for me: my aunt Virginia passed away and I flew to Washington State to attend her funeral mass; I completed my first 6-day silent meditation retreat in San Rafael; and I compiled and sang in the interment service for the mother of my sweetie Jan. Now that I'm between editing issues of the synagogue newsletter, have nearly completed my preparations for the High Holy Days, and have mostly put together my workshop on state government issues for tomorrow night, I have a touch of bandwidth for a blog entry or two.

What I wanted to write about was something I experienced last weekend. Jan and I went shopping Sunday morning. We were saturated with the weeklong coverage of the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks and were deliberately avoiding watching any more about it.

On our way into Fry's electronics superstore, we encountered a woman with a handmade sign that offered "FREE HUGS." Jan and I looked at each other and decided to accept her offer. As we entered the store, however, my inner cynic started wondering why she was doing that. Our best guess then was that she was participating in a psych experiment to determine if there were any commonalities among people who accepted or rejected her offer. I sure hoped that she wasn't trying to spread some contagious disease or plant listening or homing devices.

It wasn't until the next day that I got it. I was walking by a florist shop in downtown San Francisco that had spread flowers on the sidewalk and had a sign that offered free roses in observance of 9/11. Of course! Sunday was September 11th itself. The woman was distributing hugs as her way of sharing comfort on the anniversary of that major national trauma.