On the Insensativity of Being a Sensative Person

 Dear readers, 

I want to just share a short thought with you--sometimes when we think we are being sensative and kind, we really are not.

Many things in life require balance. And recently I realized that perhaps occasionally in my quest to be a kind an dignified human being, I actually do the opposite. What do I mean?

Well, as I mature I have begun to understand that:

• To love another, we must first love ourselves

• That to be selfless, we first must have a defined self, and indeed not totally remove this self  from our reality 

Sometimes when I think I am helping another person by ignoring myself, I am actually harming them

To break this down into simpler terms, I am attempting to convey that I have grasped the importance of knowing myself, addressing my thoughts and feelings first, as well as the importance of being honest. Honesty, to myself and to others, can save a lot of misunderstanding, heartbreak, and pain. 

It is so easy to think "well, what does so and so want? Oh they must need..." But it takes a different kind of strentgh to understand that in order to really be attune to somebody else's needs, we must first know our own minds, and be at one with ourselves.

 If I am honest with myself first about a job I want to do, my feelings towards a man, or my availbility in my schedule to see a friend, then I am being kind to them. It is easy to fall into the trap of mistakenly thinking by "squeezing" a friend into time I don't actually have for them, or going on just "one more date because he's just so nice that maybe..." But this, dear readers, I now can see is not the right way to live life. If I would tell my friend "you know, I am a student and I choose to spend all my evenings studying, maybe I can come for a shabbat sometime?" or "you are a really lovely person, but I don't feel it is matim." 

I feel "mean" in the above cases, and yet it is actually kinder to be honest with people. The friend deserves time where I am present and happy to be with her. The man deserves to be with a woman who appreciates him for who he is, is attracted to him, and who wants to build a life with him. Not someone who just thinks he is nice...

I have heard the adage that a broken vessel cannot pour. I am finally starting to understand this.

So be kind, both to yourselves and also others.

Oh, and do please wear your mask.

I remain yours etc,

Shira 

Mah Nishtana: How is this Year Different than all Others?

Dear readers,

Passover 2020, and I am treating every day as  a world unto itself.

Covid-19 has changed the world in so many ways. I find myself typing this blog post during Passover, at my parent’s house in the North of Israel, on a day I should have been working in Jerusalem and on break from studies. Oh, and I should have been planning for my sister’s wedding.

Yet, I have no studies, my work excused me so I could stay where I am in space with my family, and my sister got married. So different than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams!

I write to you dearest reader, on the fourth day of Passover, and I want to reflect a little bit on how my Seder went and thoughts I had about it. Please, bare with me:

I shall begin with noting that I had a very pleasant Seder. I drank all four cups of wine, only mildly embarrassed myself, and partook of a delicious meal (with artichokes!). But, for the first time in the past six years, I completed my Seder and did not mourn the loss of a second one. Ordinarily I spend some time seder night moping about my loss of a second seder, grieving the loss of a whole second opportunity to share my haggadah, ideas, and in general have the chance to remedy any blemish from the first night. But this year, 5780/2020 I couldn’t help but think of those in isolation abroad, who were facing two Seders and then immediately Shabbat, completely alone. There is no Synagogue, no shared meals, nothing of the sort. In addition to feeling incredibly sad for these people, I noticed that I was content with my Seder and not upset that I would have to wait another year entirely.

I want to explore my newfound acceptance in the scope of the Mah Nishtana questions we asked at the Seder. I want to propose my own new question: 

Why is this year different from all other years?

On all other years we prep in a rush, and dash about to finish all in time

This year we sit at home for weeks in isolation, calmly preparing each day

On all other years we travel and plan where to be and when

This year our biggest tiul is to the bin or the supermarket

On all other years we read through the plagues merely as part of the story

This year we read the story to try to understand the plague 

On all other years we celebrate as a community and come together as a nation to serve G-d.

This year we celebrate alone, and serve G-d as a nation made up of individuals serving in solitary solidarity 

Usually on the night of the Seder we say Hallel twice, once in Synagogue and once during the Seder in our home. Rav Kook says that we do this because we have to give thanks and praise both as a nation for the miracles and wonders done for us (in Synagogue) but also during our personal Seders because we must personally feel that we as individuals were taken out of Egypt. This year, of course, there was no Synagogue and when I consulted with my Rabbi he said we simply omit the communal one. 

After recovering from my initial disappointment, I realized that maybe there was a lesson here for me to learn during Corona. Maybe this is the year that is presenting us as a nation with the opportunity to reflect on what we are doing and our potential as individuals and see how we fit into the nation. We learn from chemistry that everything in the universe (just about) can be broken up into smaller bits, or parts of a whole if you will. I think that this year, for the first time in many of our lives, we had the chance to hunker down, look ourselves in the figurative mirror and ask: Who am I? Where would the world be without me in it? Am I doing everything I can to help? Am I happy? Am I my best self?

I think that Corona has taught me many things, and helped me revisit my perspective on a lot of concepts in my life. From hours spent working through difficult conversations with my sister, to learning to make peace with decisions that are not mine to make. So many conventions in my life I am learning were really just that--convention. We are a flexible and adaptable species, and as a nation we have shown ourselves to be not only kind and brave, but resilient. So with these final thoughts I’ll close. 

Thanks for reading, and joining me on my journey. Thanks for kindly listening to me for these past fives years, and giving me the space and confidence to grow and change. Thanks for taking the time to read my blog. And, please, allow me to share some advice that I give myself often. I think it’s solid counsel for everyone all the time, but especially now during a global pandemic:

Ultimately we have power only over ourselves. It is our job to choose good in every situation we are faced with in life. It matters little what others do or choose, as we cannot change them, only us. So when you reach any crossroads or choice, just do the right thing. 

Not so simple you say? What of all the grey in the world? Well, you are right. But do remember that grey is made up of black and white. 

I remain yours etc,

Shira

On Unseen Enemies and my Couch: a Rather Depressing Tale

Dear readers!

I must confess, to feeling a little guilty not having posted sooner, considering the state of the world: That is being trapped in my apartment! 

I should also admit that all the being at home has made me a little uneasy, quite restless, and perhaps even a little less sensible than usual. So bear with my, my dear readers. Join me on a journey of a post that is more “stream of consciousness” than my usual writings and try to be compassionate with your author as she struggles with all these uncomfortable feelings and sensations.

***

I have a sister who lives in the USA and I had emailed her about a week or two ago and to see how she was holding up with the pandemic (although at the time of my email I don’t know if we were calling it that yet). I had written to her that I felt every day I was waking up in a strange dream. My sister replied that it’s not a dream, but a war. She felt it was WWIII. Now, the other world wars were divided into sides and we all knew who was the enemy and who wasn’t. People were bombed and shot, and it was outside forces that attacked. In the case of a virus it’s even worse than a civil war, as the battle is being waged inside our very selves.

Of course some of the obnoxious parts of war are rearing their ugle heads even now, in our current situation: people reporting on those not listening to regulations, buying obscene amounts of food and paper goods, and the like. It is strange to think about an enemy I cannot see. It is bizarre to contemplate that perhaps I have the virus without symptoms, and it violates me silently without me knowing. How do we wage war on something we cannot see? How do we battle an invisible agent?

And yet there is small comfort that I get from realizing the demon this time is not man. There are no guns that threaten me, or knives to menace me. My adversary is tiny and disgusting, but does not plan or plot. There is no moral ground on which to be upset, and no ethical questions to hurl at this criminal. He strikes all the same, he does not make room for politics or religion. There is no “side” to be on, except the side of humanity. Humanity as one large whole, a sum of its parts. There is rugged beauty in this.

I cannot seem to stop myself from asking. How is it that such a tiny little virus stumps humankind in 2020? We have been to the moon and back, we have cars that drive themselves and the internet. We have computers and phones who sync and we have prosthetic legs that allow people missing limbs to run in races. We have X-rays and conveyor belts. We use Zoom and have global stock markets. The pandemic seems almost medieval. We are not accustomed in the 21st century to defeat by disease. We have vaccines, and antibiotics. We use steroids and NSAIDS. We have chemotherapy and radiation. We can keep cancers at bay, and repair brain damage, but suddenly we cannot fight a cold? This is unbearably troubling, and ever so confusing. 

***

I do not shutter my windows;

I wash my hands

I do not wait for rations;

I buy respectfully, one member per cart

I do not dawn a uniform, 

I put on pajamas 

I do not line up for the draft,

I go home and wait on my couch

Those who once were the supporters,

They are now the front line

***

I guess I already knew that I was a social creature, and yet I thought I would be prepared to stay at home. I grew up unschooled, and am sure I spent weeks at home sometimes. But that was different. And it is not that I am bored at home, I have what to do and occupy myself. But my world feels surreal, and I guess I have learned that freedom is not only a physical thing, it is a state of mind. It is the knowledge that I “can” do something or go somewhere and not the actual going or doing that makes me free. It is absurd that the same action (sitting on my couch) can sometimes feel like the epitome of freedom, but today it feels like the embodiment of imprisonment. 

And I think I understand my little sister now, with her need to have a car and be able to move around on her schedule, and at her discretion. Because although me taking the bus to the mall or me driving to the mall ends up with the same outcome, it’s really not the same at all.

***

I open the window to write this post, and the breeze crashes into me. I gulp in fresh air, like a drowned woman and try not to cough with it. That would be bad, in these times you see. Coughing has just about become a crime, or an admittance to a crime. But I digress.

I guess this whole post is kind of one big digression, isn’t it? Trying to organize chaos is, at some point, futile. There are bright spots, Zoom conversations with family members the world over, who I rarely speak with, and lots of reading. But there is a forign and new anxiety and sense of dread that I am not used to. 

This unease is wretched, as I find myself literally itching with uncertainty and beginning to feel sick with worry. All these unknowns, and I am just a millennial not used to unknowns on this magnitude. I am also having a rough time making decisions with so much conjecture and so little fact. I am an individual who has recently began working in earnest on decision making in my personal life, and this pandemic has thrown me into a lot of upheaval in this area. 

I hope I can take from all that is happening a big dose of compassion. I hope I will remember inthe future the weeks where suddenly I identified with the Germaphobes (heck, the whole planet did) and I will recount the days that I suddenly understood anxiety on a personal level. I hope I take this with me, and it assists me in my journey of being Human.

And there is yet more irony: It is the disease from the animals that is teaching us what it means to be human. It is a zoonotic plague that is causing society to ask itself who should decide who lives and dies? Who do we protect and why? The ultimate questions for man have been raised  by animal. 

***

I don’t want to write only sad or depressing things, but I confess that although the sun shines, I feel overcast inside my apartment. There is so much opposing symbolism I am seeing everywhere. I hope next time I pen words on my blog they will be after spending time in the park or market, or having come home from a day at work or school.

 I would like to end with two photographs I took yesterday on a short walk by my apartment. I have taken to calling these walks “sanity” walks because I feel without them I will go insane. 

Photograph one: Mask on Pavement

Photograph two: Man and Nature

I remain yours etc,

Shira

Guest Post: Am Yisrael Chai

Am Yisrael Chai

February 6th, 2002 (18 years ago) I embarked on my personal journey, leaving my close-knit family in Oregon to arrive in the Jewish national homeland of Israel.  At the time, I was 19 and trying to find where I, Dahlia, fit in in this world.

From the hot, clear desert of Arad, to the various bustling, crowded neighborhoods of Jerusalem, a short year in Chashmonaim, before arriving at our current location: the somewhat quiet, Anglo bubble of Beit Shemesh; life has zoomed on before I’ve had a chance to catch up!

I don't have much advice to give others yet, as I'm still learning a lot myself.  However I thought to write a short summery of my life and contributions to Israel so far:

Born in California USA in 1982; home educated until college, graduated with a degree in Food Service Management -with honors.

Made Aliyah in February of 2002, participated in a graduate program in Arad. 

Served in a government ministry in Jerusalem for national service as well as various other volunteering avenues. 

Completed several months of seminary learning in Jerusalem. 

Volunteered helping families and learning Torah in Gush Katif before being “disengaged”. 

Volunteered in Tzvat during the Second Lebanon War – helping the residents, visiting wounded Israeli soldiers, organizing meals and packages, etc. 

Was head chef and kitchen manager of the vegetarian lunches and special events for a seminary in Jerusalem. 

Married to my beloved other half since 2007, full time mother and executive supervisor to our three amazing sabras – born to us in 2008 and 2010 and 2017.

I am a great granddaughter and granddaughter of survivors of the Pogroms and the Holocaust;

Daughter to a father who was a heroic soldier in the Israeli army as a paratrooper medic who served in the Yom Kippur war and who fought to protect the Jewish National Homeland. 

Daughter to his wife who is the most dedicated, supportive and encouraging mother who was also his partner in their family business for 20 years before making aliyah themselves!

Sister to five amazing and unique individuals.

Sister in law to six, almost seven fascinating individuals.

Current aunt to ten superb nieces and four superb nephews.

I couldn’t see myself living anywhere else. Despite the early years of loneliness, the middle years of growth, I look forward to what the future holds.

Am Yisrael Chai!

If you'd only Stop Shouting...The Woes of a New Medical Secretary

Dear Readers, 

Although it is quite shocking, I am posting yet again! This work is from the summer, when I still felt new at my job as a medical Secretary. It is fun to look back, to reminisce, and to recall those very terrifying moments. I am an individual who records best when I am “in the thick of things” and that is why I wrote this piece many months ago. I want to share that these days, I sigh for different reasons at my place of occupation...namely boredom! But thank G-d, I manage. I still feel I help people (even if they are not always grateful) and it is lovely to feel competent. Also, I make phone calls for between six and 10 hours a day, so I am becoming quite efficient at the deed. 

In any case, please enjoy these musings of some months ago, and laugh with me now as we recall...

Brnng brrrrng brrng 

I haven’t even sat down yet and I already hear the annoying buzzing. 

I have just finished a morning at the lab and I took the bus over. Yes, I don’t only work here. Yes I have a bachelors of science and yes I am involved in cancer research, and yes I try to help humanity. I really do try.

 It’s 87 F outside and walking down the hill has made me sweaty. 

I just want to sit down to look who is on call today, and who has appointments open so I can answer your questions quickly and correctly. I haven’t even fully sat down before the woman pounces on me. “What do I do now?” she asks? “I just finished my x-ray and blood work.” I look around and try to orient myself to who she is and what she wants from me. My brain rapidly processes that most likely she is here for a green card, that she was signed in by someone else who told you to come back to them after your x ray and blood work. 

“Just have a seat and wait for the doctor to call you,” I patiently reply to Mrs. Visa ‘s question. I sigh internally. 

I open the computer program and start to look at the schedule. I still have five minutes until I officially get on shift. “Ahem,” a loud voice grumbles. There are three other secretaries and I’m seated at the last computer in the corner with my head bent intently towards the screen. I have actually practiced by slight and intense frown when I’m staring at the computer so people will see I am busy. It never seems to work, however. I continue staring at the screen not because I don’t want to help Mr. Ahem, but rather because if I don’t figure out who is on call I won’t be able to book appointments or direct any of the phone calls I am about to start answering. 

Brnng brrrrng brrng 

Without moving my head, my fingers deftly move to the phone pad to put the incoming call on hold until someone can answer it. I have just figured out who is on call when a shrill voice says “I have an appointment with Dr. B, two o-clock.” I am forced to wrench my gaze up but the woman has already left, and I find myself staring at a very angry Mr. Ahem who thinks I’ve ignored him to help Ms. Shrill instead of himself who has been patiently, I am sure he thinks that’s how he’s been,waiting for five whole minutes!

“I need my prescriptions!” he shouts in my face. I sigh audibly this time, and as I take his card he has all but thrust in my face, I try to quickly sign in Ms. Shrill. She hasn’t passed her card this quarter. I’ll need to track her down to do so. Keeping this third sigh inside, I reach for the binders to find Mr. Ahem his prescriptions. I look through the whole section where his last name should be. I look twice. I see nothing. Bracing myself for an explosion, I say as politely as I can muster “I am sorry (really I am) but I don’t see your prescription here. Go check with the nurses and see if they have it by them.” He doesn’t even think I deserve a response, he just huffs loudly and marches to the nurses station. 

I look down and see three phone calls need to be answered. I decide I need to jump in. 

“Hello it’s the family medical clinic, good afternoon.”

“WHY DON’T YOU ANSWER THE PHONE!? I’VE BEEN WAITING TEN MINUTES!” 

I gingerly lift the phone away from my ear so I won’t go deaf. I haven’t even been here for ten minutes, but of course I haven’t answered her phone call. 

“Yes, I’m sorry it’s a bit busy here.” I try to go for a sweet tone but I worry it’s come out a little sour. 

“Well, Dr. N didn’t call me back yet and I need that referral right now! I’m in the office of the podiatrist.” 

Well lady of the foot, I love how you think I know exactly what you’re talking about. I love how you are already in the office of the podiatrist and you don’t have the referral. 

“What’s your name?” I ask. I’m gonna see if there’s anything in the wall. 

“GAVRIELLA L!”  she screams. I wonder to myself why she finds this basic question so offensive. I turn to the wall and look under L. No referral for our Lady of the foot.

I pick the phone back up to report this to her. She is NOT happy. “But I left him a message this morning!” Oh, too bad she didn’t start by saying that.”

“Hang on just one sec,” I go for a soothing tone. I don’t think she’s buying it but I put her on hold before I can hear her complaints. I quickly search this morning’s messages and sure enough there at 8:05 is a message labeled URGENT! for Dr. N from her. He hasn’t read the message yet. Oh dear.

Making sure she is still on hold, I dial Dr. N’s number. 

“Yes?” he answers curtly. He’s clearly in the middle of seeing a patient. My interrupting him will only slow him down and make him run later, but no one seems to understand this. 

“Sorry to bother you,” I start apologetically. At least with him I can hear that my tone has an effect, “It’s ok” he says more softly. I hurriedly explain lady of the foot’s predicament and he affirms my sinking suspicion that he has absolutely no idea what I or she is talking about. “I’ll write her a referral anyway though, just as soon as I finish here.” He hangs up. 

Brnng brrrrng brrng 

I ignore the terribly buzzing of the phones to update Lady of the Foot. She is not happy and lets me know it. The way she is going on, you would think not only that I was her doctor and had the ability to write her a referral and was simply withholding doing so just to bother her, but that I had known about it and had forgotten! 

Finally I get off the phone with her. I glance up, and six people are waiting to be helped. Only one other secretary is sitting with me. While I was on the phone, one of them got up to go work on projects and the other one has...maybe gone to the bathroom? I am sure they told me, or tried to. I guess I didn’t hear them. The girl next to me is trapped on the phone with the insurance of the man with the wailing child standing by her. She’ll be on the line with them for a while it seems.

I quickly ask “who’s next?”

Three people just need to be signed in to their appointments and they all brought their medical cards. Thank G-d. Next is a woman who wants to pay for an X-ray. She asks how much it is and I say one moment since I have to look her up by name to see if she’s supposed to get a discount. She looks a little confused. It is weird that I wouldn't know the price of something that I obviously do every day. I know she doesn’t realize that different patients get different prices, but it doesn’t lesson the blow to my ego when she looks at me like I’m an idiot. 

“It’s 50 shekel,” I tell her. She hands me her credit card and we quickly finish the transaction.

Meantime my coworker has finished the phone call and managed to help the remaining people in line. She has somehow also managed to answer all three waiting phone calls. Man, when will I ever stop feeling so new?

For a rare moment there is quiet. I reach for my mobile just to check...BAM!

Up waltzes Dr. M “מי פנוי, מי פנוי?” he sings as he waves a sheaf of papers at the desk. I raise my hand and he tells me to make him copies of these five pages, fax those other two pages, and the patient who is trailing behind him was a “returning visit, rash on face.” 

I nod, and set the sheaf of papers down. I take payment from the kind tourist who is patient. Then I set to work faxing and copying. 

It’s been 45 minutes since I got to work. It’s going to be a long day. 

Brnng brrrrng brrng 

I remain yours etc,

Shira