Young Me/Old Me

I may be creating a never ending spiral by posting this but... it got me thinking. And frankly as meme's go, this isn't the worst one...A friend from high school wrote a post with the identical title - Young Me/Old Me wherein she referenced another mutual friend from high school who wrote I think I've turned into a wuss.My high school friend, Jason, wrote in I think I've turned into a wuss:

I have been missing the belief that I can do anything.  I have been missing the realization that I was not stuck in a rut.  I have been missing the desire to be creative, be exploratory, be expressive and cling to God with my life in obedience.  I wondered what happened to Young Me who spent hours in the driveway on Mockingbird Drive pretending he was in the NBA.  Young Me played ball until he couldn’t even see the rim.  Young Me also had a back story for all his toys.  Young Me had a spaceship made out of a bush that grew next to two oak trees and had half of a cinder block for the commander’s chair.  Young Me didn’t care what others thought.  Young Me rocked.

My high school friend, Erin, wrote in Young Me/Old Me:

“Aren’t the 30s weird? Like we’ve done all the things we’re supposed to do, gone to school and gotten jobs and started families, and at any moment it could all explode. We could all go back to square one. And it wouldn’t be that bad.”

And

What did your Young Me do that your Old Me doesn’t?Young Me decorated the pages of my journals with paint and crayons.Young Me laughed the loudest and didn’t care.Young Me tossed out unsolicited opinions.Young Me watched movies alone.Young Me went jogging any old time, not concerned about when the last time I went jogging.Young Me painted my favorite quotes on my walls.Young Me hugged everyone.Young Me danced without drinking first.Young Me climbed trees.My Young Me rocked, too. I could probably stand to be a little more like my Young Me.

So this makes me start thinking about Erin's young her because ... well I knew her for part of that time. Which then makes me think of young me... How have I changed? How have the 30's changed me? For all intents and purposes, these are the best days of my life! I mean it, truly. I am happier and healthier and fitter and more content with my life today than I was as "young me."Let us compare, shall we:

Young Me
Old Me
Nervous and scared Confident
Shy and awkward Outgoing (can I say confident again?)
Really cared what other people thought of me Can I say confident again?
Unfettered by debt Fiscally aware
Longing for something more Content with my life

 But here's the thing... what both blogs said is true. The 30's are weird. I'm on a precipice of life but I have already lived so much. I have experienced so much but there is a lot to come. Children and adventures, all sorts of things. So... let's do the exercise...

thoughtful taliaWhat did your Young Me do that your Old Me doesn’t?Young Me burned 30 candles in my room while pretending to play guitar without fear that I the music I made was horrid (it was).Young Me sang along to old show tunes records at the top of my lungs. (And by records, I mean REAL vinyl!)Young Me was fearless on the stage when Young Me couldn't be fearless in real life.Young Me kept trying new things (guitar, violin, painting, drawing, dancing, gymnastics, life guarding).Young Me found time to have fun no matter what (with my brother, or my parents, or my friends, or myself).

Young Me did rock. I am proud of who I was. But I am also proud of who I have become. I am SO thankful to Erin and Jason for starting me on this thought path. While my inference may have been slightly different, the thought is the same... don't forget the simple pleasures in life but do stop listening to the little voice in your head that tells you no no no because you are over 30!

The Pride of a Daughter

I am so very proud of my family. Now, we may be crazy but I am still very proud of my whole family.But this post is about my father. My father, my tatti, my abbasama, is a very special guy. He was always pretty slow to anger. Never hit us, rarely spanked us, and I was only grounded once... when I was 5... and I walked to the next-door neighbor's house without telling them... and she couldn't see me in the peephole because I was too little... I was "lost" for about 15 minutes.All of my parents are extraordinary but my pops, he's pretty incredible. His logic and gentle Aikedo way of raising my brother and I has shaped us into who we are today. He is grammatically stringent (like his father) but never mean. Patient to a fault and an incredible snuggler.However, something happened recently that made my little girl emotions well up and pride spill out in my tears.He sent me a pdf of his book to proof.It is both awe and awww inspiring.As I read the stories contained within his book, I was drawn back to times with my father. Special moments, dinner tables, synagogue events where the Ya'ir, the mythical rabbi (who I believe was my father in a previous fictional life), made appearances. His stories taught us the real meanings of holidays and observances. Of how they look to those on the outside looking in and those of us on the inside looking deeper. His lessons enabled me to teach and share our historical traditions with friends in ways that they could understand.One of the most exciting parts of seeing my father's stories in print is that I know I will be able to share this with my children and grandchildren, on and on, forever. All of our decedents will know of these stories.  They will know of the gentle way of their great great grandfather... and that excites me. We have been researching our family tree and the lack of information makes me sad. I have been pushing my father to document his memories for years because I don't want that to disappear. This book will be the manifestation of just one twig of our collective history. Reading his voice will always be something that I will have.I owe a lot to my tatti, my dad. The lifelong supporter, the unabashed lovebug, the passionate and compassionate father who instilled in me a passion for alliteration and abhorrence at ending a sentence with a preposition.SO stay posted. Keep checking back because I will post a link when the book is available. I hope you and yours will enjoy these stories as much as my brother and I did.

10 Years Later.

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10 years. I can't believe it has been 10 years. It alternately shocks me and makes me feel old.

You don't realize how old you are until you get the reminders, the landmarks, the moments for which we measure our life.

Two years ago, on the eighth anniversary of 9/11, I wrote my story of the events that happened that day. My experiences. Oh my experiences in Jacksonville, Florida pale in comparison to my friends who were in NYC or the families who lost loved ones but it is my experience. A snapshot of what people across the country experienced. I won't recap it here but if you would like to read it, you are welcome to - 9/11 – 911 – Sept 11 – 11 Sept.

Today I am reflecting on the time that has passed, how the world has changed in the past 10 years. I am fortunate to be old enough to remember what travel was like before the terror attacks. I remember coming home from my trip to Israel in 1997 and being met by my mother, father, step-mother, brother, and grandmother at the gate. Standing there waiting for me to get off the plane. I ran into their arms, I was comforted by their presence. I remember how that all changed on September 12, 2001. I remember the terror in my friends' voices when they had to travel home that Thanksgiving, taking a plane for the first time since the attacks.

I really remember how we, as Americans came together in the days, weeks, months after the attacks. When people started caring about each other. When selfish Americans because caring and careFULL Americans. When we stopped thinking about money and success and grades and getting from point A to point B but ensured each other was safe, healthy, and cared for. Slowly that ebbed. Slowly, America came back to our middle point, our place where the Starbucks across the street is too far for me to travel, I need one right here. Or my sandwich isn't made right or you didn't answer the phone the way I like or your clothing isn't to my standards or I dislike you for no reason other than you are you and not me.We were still unique but we thought somewhat collectively. We all prayed for the safety of each other.

Today we face a different type of hardship. No one flew an airplane into an iconic building (baruch HaShem - thank G-d). The terrorist threat is minimal. We are vigilant and careful to protect our country. But financially and politically we are in a transitional space. A place where we have dueling priorities. Cut budgets, save money, but care for each other. We must recall that time when your first thought was to get your neighbor out of the burning building. We caring for each other trumped buying a new BMW.

I am thankful to have been alive and old enough to remember the lessons from 9/11. It was a scary and terrifying day... and weeks and months... But I learned so much that day. I learned how important the stranger, widow, orphan, and neighbor in our midst is. I learned that success isn't measured by the money I bring in or the car I drive or the clothes I wear... it's measured in the people I help, the goodwill I share with others, the gift of time I give to those who need it...

Deeper than reaching into your pocket is reaching into your heart.

This is the Kaddish, the mourner's prayer. The prayer we say everyday for one year after losing someone and then yearly on their anniversary of their death. Notice there is very little mention about death in this prayer. The Mourner's Kaddish is not for G-d but for us... a reminder of people and time long gone.

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We glorify and sanctify G-d's great name throughout the world which G-d has created according to G-d's will. May G-d establish G-d's kingdom in our lifetime and during our days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; Amen.

May G-d's great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.

Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored, adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that are ever spoken in the world; Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us and for all Israel; Amen.

G-d who creates peace in G-d's celestial heights, may G-d create peace for us and for all Israel; Amen.

Totoro goes to school

Well, I have been enjoying my classes for a while now but I have been so focused on being a good student, that I forgot to document it!Well, I was in one of my favorite classes - The David Project - taught by a certain Ze'ev Orenstein. It is a facinating class about the political realities of Israel and land rights. Really a great class and Ze'ev is a fun guy. So he was playing some Chanukah music for us at the beginning of class and we decided to dance together... you know, being the only guys there. It was a blast. Here is a video of it:[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cl1hUBsaaO0]And for fun, here is Matisyahu's HILARIOUS new video for his Chanukah song:[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2JHZOfwOGus]

I'm feeling rather bl(ah)(og)...

I know I should be over the moon that I have the opportunity to study full time but all I can think about is all the things I need to do and accomplish and where I am deficient.It can't help that I feel like I have to cram as much learning as I can into my time in Israel since I'm older... it's as if for every year over 18 or 22 I am, I have to work that much harder, go to that many more classes, answer that many more questions.Now, in addition to that, I have the practical concerns for certainly I could not forget I have bills to pay, student loans to make good on and hopefully a job when I go home.But how do you suck every drop of learning out of an experience when a third of your brain is devoted to your work tasks that have to get done that day and your mind is dreaming of that delicious garden tub and clean bathroom you left in the States?It's a balance I am constantly striving for while I spend time in Israel learning. I envy those men and women who dedicate their lives to learning Torah or stay in academia all their lives. I watch the women around me with their varying degrees of commitment to classroom learning and I know that while we are all here for the same reason (mostly), many of them would benefit from a program with more experiential classes. Not all of us are built to sit in a chair and learn for hours upon hours a day. I think about myself and my commitment to learn everything these amazing teachers are willing to give over. My face is almost always in the classroom, not only do I try not to miss classes, I dislike missing classes but how do I balance that with my need, my primal need to use my hands for more than note-taking, page flipping, and computer typing? What about the knowledge that I want to sweat and be sore, use my muscles until they ache?And just as I had these questions, a solution walked into my lap. Go on an archeological dig. I have the opportunity to go up north to the Galilee and dig a 1st Century synagogue. 1st Century people! Let me explain what this means for the normal humans who are not as obsessed with history or archeology as I am...Our Second Holy Temple was destroyed in 70 CE. Prior to the destruction, it was not common that Jews had synagogues. There was only the one Temple in Jerusalem. It was only after this time that Jews rallied around making a local structure with rabbis (this took a lot of time). Therefore, this synagogue was either from the 30 years after the Second Temple was destroyed or one of the rare synagogues built DURING the Second Temple period and to make it even more rare, there have only been 7 found in the world.Here's some info about it from the Israeli Antiquities Authority:

"A synagogue from the Second Temple period (50 BCE-100 CE) was exposed in archaeological excavations the Israel Antiquities Authority is conducting at a site slated for the construction of a hotel on Migdal beach, in an area owned by the Ark New Gate Company. In the middle of the synagogue is a stone that is engraved with a seven-branched menorah (candelabrum), the likes of which have never been seen. The excavations were directed by archaeologists Dina Avshalom-Gorni and Arfan Najar of the Israel Antiquities Authority.The main hall of synagogue is c. 120 square meters in area and its stone benches, which served as seats for the worshippers, were built up against the walls of the hall. Its floor was made of mosaic and its walls were treated with colored plaster (frescos). A square stone, the top and four sides of which are adorned with reliefs, was discovered in the hall. The stone is engraved with a seven-branched menorah set atop a pedestal with a triangular base, which is flanked on either side by an amphora (jars).According to the excavation director, Dina Avshalom-Gorni of the Israel Antiquities Authority, “We are dealing with an exciting and unique find. This is the first time that a menorah decoration has been discovered from the days when the Second Temple was still standing. This is the first menorah to be discovered in a Jewish context and that dates to the Second Temple period/beginning of the Early Roman period. We can assume that the engraving that appears on the stone, which the Israel Antiquities Authority uncovered, was done by an artist who saw the seven-branched menorah with his own eyes in the Temple in Jerusalem. The synagogue that was uncovered joins just six other synagogues in the world that are known to date to the Second Temple period”.

What an amazing opportunity to use my other skills in life and come back to school with a zest for sitting in class. I imagine after a week of hunching over in the sun and dirt, I will enjoy a clean classroom with comfy chairs.

Childish Memory

Prior to coming back to Jerusalem this summer, I had a very fuzzy but definitive picture of Jerusalem in my mind. It was built upon memories from the mind of 16 year old me. From the time I came to Jerusalem for the fall semester of my junior year of high school... 13 years ago.There were landmarks in my mind... Ben Yehuda street, Hebrew Union College/Beit Shmuel, King David street, the YMCA, Jabotinsky street, Independence Park... along with less well known locales. The shouk on the corner that was open on Friday nights to sell us beer, the restaurant across the street that served the best pumpkin soup, that place on the corner where our tiuyl bus would always stop and we would run in the back door and get the best baklava ever, and that one street in that one neighborhood where the lady from Belgium sold the BEST waffles ever!Here is the problem with all of these memories - over the years they have degraded a bit, as all sweet memories do and what remains was the fun and sweet parts not the challenging parts (like getting there). Also, most of the time they stuck us on a chartered bus or led us somewhere and we really weren't allowed to go places alone, therefore, I never really learned how to get around by myself.Coming back to Yerushalim (Jerusalem), I wanted to revisit the places of my child's memory but I really didn't know how to get started so I just let it flow. I got to know my new neighborhood and slowly started venturing out with other girls to further places. Currently we are located in the Katamon neighborhood near Emek Rafaim. Emek is a great and busy street with ice cream shops, super markets, tons of restaurants and coffee shops. The setup seemed vaguely familiar but one peek at the map and it seemed like King David street was miles away.It all clicked the day I walked with a friend, on Erev Rosh Hashanah, to my G-dparents' shul. I knew I had been there before but a lot had changed since I was here 13 years ago. We finally found the place and I had a HUGE "AH CHA!" moment. This Emek road that I had been trekking up and down was actually the much less developed street that was a bit of a walk for us but a nice treat 13 years ago. We would buy Pomelos and Pomegranates from the street vendors and sit on the sidewalk and eat. There wasn't nearly as much car traffic as now, if I remember correctly. Also, I don't know where she went but I heard the Belgium waffle lady is still around the city somewhere. It all was starting to make sense. Then I visited with a Denver friend after Rosh Hashanah on Emek. We decided to visit the new Mamilla Mall near the old city. We took a cab and unlocked the other puzzle. Here was the school and dorms, the building that was just started being built (that is now a HUGE and expensive hotel and apartments), and the memories from my child's mind. Sadly, the bits and bobs of collected memory aren't there any more. Most of the shops were removed and the landscape has changed greatly with this new walking mall but there was the Jerusalem of my childhood.It's been an amazing time, connecting past with present and present with future. I am just thankful for the opportunity to do that!

We have to walk?! Where?

Here's something you need to know about Jerusalem. Other than people park/drive on the sidewalks so be careful.It's actually a smallish town. And public transportation and the shops close down for the sabbath. For those of you who have no clue what I am talking about, here is a crash course. On the sabbath, otherwise known as Shabbat or Shabbis or Shabbos, G-d gave us some prohibitions. Since G-d rested on the 7th day, so are we supposed to. This irons out to 39 types of work that a prohibited.Forbidden on Shabbis:

  • Planting
  • Plowing
  • Reaping
  • Binding sheaves
  • Threshing
  • Winnowing
  • Selecting
  • Grinding
  • Sifting
  • Kneading
  • Baking
  • Shearing wool
  • Washing wool (Scouring/Laundering)
  • Beating/Combing wool
  • Dyeing
  • Spinning
  • Weaving
  • Making two loops
  • Weaving at least two threads
  • Separating two threads
  • Tying
  • Untying
  • Sewing at least two stitches
  • Tearing for the purpose of sewing
  • Trapping
  • Slaughtering
  • Flaying
  • Curing hide
  • Scraping hide
  • Scoring hide
  • Cutting hide into pieces
  • Writing (two or more letters)
  • Erasing
  • Building
  • Tearing something down
  • Extinguishing a fire
  • Igniting a fire
  • Applying the finishing touch
  • Transferring between domains

If you want more details on this, check out the trusty Wikipedia, but suffice to say, some seem super relevant and some not so much but our sages and rabbis have made them relevant. Okay fine. I don't want to get to involved in the laws but this means that all the public transport are shut down and we can't take a cab to our destination. If you want to go anywhere, your only choice is to walk.The point here is that on my very first shabbis in Jerusalem, which has been building a great anticipation, we are walking to the Kotel. Yes, my friends, we are headed to the Western Wall. Very exciting... except it is a 35 minute walk from school.In America, either you go to a shul nearby or you don't go. At least, that is how it is near me. Or frankly, some of us will just drive to shul anyway because the mitzvah of going to daven is more important to me than the prohibition to drive that has been derived from these 39 prohibitions on work. I don't think either perspective is wrong, just different ways to look at the same coin.So we head out for the Kotel. You don't really notice the somewhat strenuous walk because the scenery is amazing. You pass new apartments and old domiciles, petrol stations and ancient roadways. Jerusalem is an amazing amalgam of modernity and old style. New ideas and strongly held ideals.We took the snake path up the side of hill on which the Old City sits. The anticipation builds.We walk along the walls and enter through the Zion Gate. I am ACTUALLY in the Old City!Down the hills and streets, past the playground inside the Old City where Muslim and Christian boys play Football (Soccer to the Americans), and into the crush to go through the security to get to the Kotel.The image laid out before me was breathtaking.

We pushed our way up to as close as we could get to the wall, on the women's side, and did our evening prayers, the Maariv service. Despite being pushed and knocked over by over zealous Christian Russian bloc tourists, it was quite an amazing experience.

The walk back didn't seem to be quite as strenuous... perhaps my self was lighter for the experience.

Traveling Talia for Tishrei, Pt 2

Once I actually found the sherut (taxi van), I had to tell them where I was going… I (I know, I know silly me) didn’t actually write down the address, I just knew it in my head. But when they asked me… I was pronouncing it like an American… and not correctly. And I had forgotten it was a two word name Hizkiyahu HaMelech. Only the document I had had the first word spelled Yehesikayhu… at least I knew my neighborhood, Ketamon.As we drive towards Jerusalem, we are stopped several times to be checked by soldiers. I don’t know the location or purpose of the check other than to keep bombs from exploding in Israeli cities. We passed walls and barbed wire, check points, cities and deserts. All stunning to watch fly by as you hold on for dear life (Israeli drivers are up there for worst in the WORLD… folks, in Israel, the sidewalk is not just for walking, it is for parking too, evidently). After letting a few people off, the driver hounded me for more information. I became a serious casualty of American convenience. When my iPhone would not pick up a signal and I when could not check my email for the details, panic began to spread through my stomach. How in the world would I find my Yeshiva? Would he dump me on some unknown corner with my three suitcases (seriously though I am here for 5 months…) and I would have to end up making camp on the sidewalk? Finally I remembered that my iPhone stored old emails and found one with the address on it. Thank G-d! The other passengers were getting nasty with me. Not as if I was holding them up, he kept dropping them off as I was trying to figure myself out.He dumps me on a corner and I see the school a block up… hill… I start to panic a bit. Here I am in a country where suitcases are blown up if they are left alone for even one minute (because that could be a bomb) with too much luggage (yes mom, you were right … though I was thankful for every bit when I got inside), a very poor command of spoken Hebrew and no way to get to the school. And then, a bright shiny face greeted me.“Are you with Mayanot?” she asked IN ENGLISH!“YES!” I replied tamping down the urge to hug her. She took me to the gate and helped me carry my luggage down the stairs and up the stairs and finally I found my home for the next five months.Yes, I am nearly 30 and living in a dorm and sharing a bathroom and eating communal meals but the classes, the knowledge, the atmosphere of incredible women is worth every second.Yes, we are locked away in our safe castle for now (locked gates all around the building to keep us safe) but soon it will be Tishrei and time to venture out and celebrate the Jewish holidays with the entire country.Did you know our weeks are Sunday through Thursday here? Friday is the Muslim sabbath and Saturday is ours so Fri and Sat are the Israeli Sat and Sun.Did you know you are not allowed to open for business on the holidays here? Pretty cool. To hear the shofar blown in the city of the Bais HaMigdash (the Holy Temple), I think will be a defining moment for me and I hear the singing and dancing parties on Simchat Torah are pretty amazing here.