​So, once upon a time there was this really cool baby. His name was Jesus. His mom was Mary. She was a virgin. 
 
Now here’s a bit of info that maybe you didn’t know (that I didn't know till someone told me), ‘in the original Hebrew text of the story of Mary and the birth of Jesus, “the word “ha-almah” was used, a word similar to the English “young” or “maid.”
 
The mistranslation occurred when this text was translated into Greek, where the word “parthenos” meaning virgin is used. The Hebrew word for virgin is “bethulah” and cannot be found anywhere in the original Hebrew text, meaning that the original writer did not intend for it to be read as “virgin” but as “young” girl.
 
This error in the translation to Greek text begs the question, was it really a mistake? Or was it purposeful?’* 
 
And if it were intentional, was this purposefulness manifested/inspired by a higher source making sure we got this right? He is the dad, after all…
 
Back to our story--
 
Here we have Mary. With this friggin’ amazing baby, that Joseph, his just as amazing stepdad, taught how to be a carpenter.  Jesus learned this trade really well. He was a really good carpenter. Like kick-ass.  
 
Jesus was also a really good Jew.
 
And after building a ton of really cool things for a really long time, because he was really good at it, he went out into the world to teach the Old Testament, in its purest most beautiful form.  
 
There was a lot of not so good stuff going on at the time.  Romans killing a shit ton of people.  The High Priests of the temple kind of aligning with them a bit…hey, better than being killed themselves, right.  And probably a lot of people feeling a bit disillusioned.
 
And Jesus, amazing Jew that he was, he went around, all over Israel (notice how I put that in here, ya know, to point out that the Jews have lived on Israel soil for oh…like nearly 4000 years) teaching all these beautiful Jewish teachings that were kind of getting lost at the time.
 
Love and tolerance and forgiveness and compassion and understanding and acceptance and how to give unto others and live in alignment with God.  Really cool stuff.
 
And Jesus was pretty friggin’ amazing at being a teacher.  Like he was a teacher even better than he was a carpenter. And that says a lot! 
 
The Romans didn’t like this. All this teaching love and having people following him.  Because, ya know, when you’re in power, you kind of want the people following you.
 
So Jesus had to go.
 
Anyway, back to the beginning.  
 
Jesus’ birthday. Here’s another little bit of interesting info, Jesus was born between April and September… so likely a summer baby—lucky for Mary, it can get pretty darn cold in that manger in the winter.  
 
So, while this whole summer birth thing was going on, during the winters, specifically December, ancient pagan religions celebrated the solstice.  And the Roman Catholic church usurped this pagan holiday to create Christmas. And for good measure, they also made Jesus’ birthday on this day. To help convert people. Kinda better than killing them.
 
So this Jesus’ birth in December day…well here it is. It’s December and we’re here on this special day, birthday celebration once again.  And this year, it seems to be a really important year to make note of this.  
 
Of Jesus being born. On the land that is Israel. As a Jewish baby. Jesus. Jewish. Israel. Same land. Same Jesus. Jewish baby. Really cool Jewish baby.
 
I think this is really clear, yes?
 
Dear Jesus, my wish, on your birthday, is that all people all over the world love all other people, no matter what their belief is grounded in. That all people love all people. Including Jews. Which is kind of like loving you. Which is kinda nice for you, that all people love you today, this being your birthday today and all. And kind of nice for Jews. Because you. Are one. Of us. 
 
Yom Huledet Sameach Yeshua‘.ישו  יום הולדת שמח. Happy Birthday Jesus. 
 
Wishing you a beautiful day and yet another lovely rotation ‘round the sun. It is an honor to be part of your tribe. I have always been a huge, huge fan.

(*Komaberri Bat for translation reference above)

​I came upon these two Calvin and Hobbes comic strips the other day. The one about death popped up on my feed first.  Which is humorous to me in that “oh Universe, you are so ‘you’” kind of way because I had just been talking to a friend about another friend of his that is ill. As in, in hospice ill.  And we were talking about the possible loss of this friend of my friend. 
 
And then, that next day, up pops this Calvin and Hobbes strip about death. 
 
Because this is how the Universe works. She pops things up. Sometimes after the fact, like this Calvin and Hobbes comic strip about death where she is basically saying “hey, I know you were talking about this and here is a little something for you, because I’ve got to get you moving along.”  
 
That’s how she works. She drops things in to get me moving. 
 
And so the comic strip about death, it pops up and gets me thinking, “what other Calvin and Hobbes messages of enlightenment should I know.” 
 
And I google best of Calvin and Hobbes and this butterfly one comes up as the first image in my search. “These are the same, aren’t they?” I laugh to the Universe. She’s so witty and smart.
 
I am playing around a lot these days with the idea of impermanence. Not just the idea. The beauty. The beauty of impermanence. I’ve been playing around with this idea of this for a long time now. 
 
Rolling it like clay. Wading in it as if in a pond. Tasting it like jelly on my tongue and dancing with it in song. Trying to get to the bottom of it. Trying to see what is just beyond it.
 
And I couldn’t get there. It had been elusive. Until now.
 
And then these two strips, the death one and the butterfly one, both of them, they show up. 
 
The death one is clear. It is the “don’t forget that this is all just so fleeting. Even in long life. There is a fleetingness to it all.” The death one is a reminding of this.
 
And when we are reminded, when we are faced with the loss, it causes us to reflect for that moment. And we see the beauty. And we recognize it is fleeting. Life. Life is fleeting. Which makes it beautiful. The beauty of impermanence.
 
The other end of the spectrum of this message of impermanence, the butterfly end, this is easier to miss. Because in this, we are in action. It is us. 
 
“This is important, isn’t it?” I begin to ask the Universe and before the thought is even clear in my mind’s conversation with her, she drops in the wisdom I seek.
 
When we are loss in action—when we let go of the butterfly, rather than in reaction of loss—grieve the loss of a friend, we are the beauty of impermanence. 
 
We are it. It’s us. 
 
And once we are this, once we see that we are impermanent, well then, then we last forever.
 
This is the cosmic joke of it all.
 
“Oh my fucking god.” I say to the Universe, and God laughs, too. 
 
Because they have been trying to get me here. For, oh God, a really long time.

​I’ve been posting a lot lately about Israel. And anti-Semitism. And being Jewish. The importance of being Jewish. I’ve been posting a lot about all this. 
 
But this writing, this is not about that.
 
This is about our dog. Moose. This is about Moose.
 
Isn’t he great. I mean, look at him. He has this amazingly beautiful face. (as does my husband, a whole other writing for a whole different day) 
 
And look at his incredible reddish-brown coat and his big brown eyes. And he is so friggin’ smart. You can hear his brain thinking. 
 
And so fun and sweet and cuddly and overwhelming and demanding and he wants to play all the time and I am not another puppy but he thinks I am at times and so often this is a bit much for me but I do it anyway because, well… because.
 
So anyway,
 
Curious how you think we are doing with our training of our dog? With training Moose? 
 
I would guess and gander that you would think not so good, right?  I mean, he is standing on the dining table.
 
You should see him get up here. He literally bounces up…like all four feet flat on the floor and then up in the air. To land on the table. No running start for him, no sir. He’s like Tigger.
 
It makes us laugh. 
 
I’m thinking we just tell people that we trained him to jump up here. From all four feet, flat on the floor and then up in the air. We’ll just say we trained him to do this. This really cool trick. We’ll call it a table trick. The dog on the table kind of table trick, not the multiplication tables kind of table trick.
 
We’ll say we taught him this table trick that is more like a parlor trick. 
 
And God is he smart, he learned it in one go. He actually learned it before we even taught it to him. That’s how smart he is.
 
Good boy, Moose. You are such a good dog.

Once upon a time, there was a land called Israel.  It was also called among other names, Canaan and Judah. Jews were here this whole time. They got kicked around. A lot. The Crusades whipped their ass. So did the Romans.
 
But let’s move up to 1947.  So there were boats of Jews coming from Europe and the British were like, “hell no, we don’t want another boatload of these people.” But then they said, “this is bullshit…we don’t want to deal with this anymore” and the British went home.
 
Meanwhile, the newly created pre-curser to the United Nations offered up the two-state system.  They gave like 50% of the land to the Arabs and 40% to the Jews.  The newly created State of Israel had arrived.  
 
Tel Aviv was in this Israel part, and a bunch of really shitty farmland and mostly desert.  A lot was land that the Jews had already been working and developing. 
 
So the Jews said yes.  And the Arabs said hell no.  And all the Arab countries surrounding this land said to the Palestinians…get off this land, and we will push all the Jews into the sea.  And then you can come back and all the land, all 100% of it, will be yours.
 
So a lot of the Palestinians left…and went to the borders.  And the Arab countries attacked Israel.  And they lost.  And Israel, because this was a war and all, captured more land than what was originally offered.
 
The Arabs that stayed in Israel, they became citizens.  They work in the Government and sit on the Supreme Court. And they fight in the army—to defend Israel. Because they are Israeli. “Get out,” you say. But it’s true. 
 
Those others, that left when all the Arab countries promised they would kick some Jew ass and told them to leave, because that so didn’t happen, they could not come back. Hence the Palestinian Refugees. 
 
These Refugees...they said to, for example, Jordan…they said “hey Jordan, we can’t go back to our homes now, because you, you know… lost. Can we come live with you?” And Jordan said “hell no.”  And so… presenting the West Bank.
 
And every other Arab country said hell no, too.  They didn’t take them in. They didn’t take in their people, who they promised they would push the Jews into the sea for. They said hell no. All these Arab nations. They said, “no, you can’t come in our countries.  We don’t want you.”  
 
These Palestinian refugees, they got screwed. By their own people. Still. They are still getting screwed.
 
Because here we are… Right this minute. Here is Gaza.  Are the Arab countries taking in those Palestinians from Gaza now?  What is Egypt doing?  Are they opening the gate and saying, please come in, we’ll keep you safe, you are one of ours?  Nope.
 
Egyptian President Abdel-Fattah el-Sissi, just a few weeks ago, said “nope. We don’t want you here, you may have militants hiding amidst your group. You’ll muck up the 40-year-old peace treaty we have with Israel. Can’t come here. Hell no.”

And Jordan's King Abdullah II.  "No refugees in Jordan.” Pretty clear, huh.
​
And what about Hamas, the government of the people of Gaza, who have tons of oil and fuel. Are they sharing this with the citizens of Gaza?  Nope. They are keeping it to set off their rockets and to make sure they can live in their tunnels under hospitals and schools. 
 
Because it’s not about people.  It’s not about helping those people in Gaza. 
 
This is not what it’s about at all. It’s about “From the River to the Sea.”
 
Eight times a two-state system has been offered and eight times, the Israelis have said yes and the Palestinians have said no.  Eight times. The Arabs don’t want peace. They want the Jewish people gone. They want to push the Jewish people into the sea.  From the River to the Sea. See
 
And then, guess what? The West is next. In fact, it’s already started.
 
The End.

I reached out to a friend last week. I needed some perspective. I am in a tough place. The world is a tough place to be in. And it feels impossible. And I need perspective. Because I don’t know what to do. 
 
I go from rage to grief to anger (which is a bit less of an energy place than rage and feels more doable and lasts much longer) and I don’t quite know where to land.
 
My orbit is small. And the information is dark. And I am in despair.
 
And surprised. By my Jewishness.
 
I am surprised by my Jewishness. By the importance of my Jewishness. And by the fact that this important part of me only lit up when blatant Anti-Semitism lit up our College and University campuses, and in our cities and towns all over the United States.
 
I am not surprised by this level of Anti-Semitism. This does not surprise me. I am surprised by how quickly and easily people have embraced this hate. And how quiet so many people are in the face of the ease in which so many have embraced this hate.  But this fact of it, this fact of the immensity of Anti-Semitism, this does not surprise me. It’s always been here. It’s just come out from under wraps. 
 
Like me. I have always been Jewish. And my Jewishness is now unwrapped.  
 
I am exploring this now. This newfound understanding of the importance of being Jewish.  This is part of the bucket I am in. The bucket of what this means for me. Of how I want to hold it. Of how I want to live it. 
 
The likelihood of changing how I live it is slim to none honestly. This is not what I mean. It’s more the awareness of it. The defining quality of me. Where I used to be a 61-year-old woman, now I am a 61-year-old Jewish woman. And this is new. And means something.  Something important to me. I still don’t know what exactly that this is.
 
So this is a part of the despair. The not knowing quite where I am at in this Jewishness of me. But figuring it out. And it will come.
 
And then there is the other part. The second part of the sentence. The “..this important part of me only lit up when blatant Anti-Semitism lit up...”  The Anti-Semitism part.
 
And I want to find a way to not sit in the darkness of this. Each day, every day. I do not mean that I want to ignore it. Certainly not ignore it. Not turn away or say it’s not so big because I know it is so big.  
 
Just to offer in some light into this darkness that I feel heavily cloaked in during this very sad time.
 
So I went looking for goodness.  I googled goodness. Goodness right now. What is happening that is good right now.
 
At first, I couldn’t find anything.  No matter what I googled, what I searched for, the search turned my words around and shared only the darkness.
 
But then, over these last few days, goodness is cropping up. A post on Instagram. A story from a friend. A video shared on a group chat.  The collective consciousness is feeling this need for kindness and showing up. Seeing our sameness. Recognizing each other’s pain. Connecting as humans.
 
I believe we need more of this. 
 
If you feel so called—share something beautiful with me. Share with me some news in the world that is kind. Share a place in this world where good work is being done. Where people are standing up and supporting each other. Where the polarity of good and evil is not playing out over and over again. Show me the goodness. We need to see love.

​In this photo I am standing in our swim spa, looking over the Ojai mountains, glowing pink in the setting sun. My cat and I, together, as above me the day-blind stars begin to twinkle. And for this moment, there is peace. 
 
~
 
In very rare moments, writing eludes me. The thoughts are inside me—the feelings ring true and clear nestled in my heart and dancing across my brow.
 
And then I go to write them out of me and onto the page.
 
And they elude me.
 
My words. My words that move in me, they do not want to move onto the page.
 
And so, I think, do I just not share here today? Even though I feel this call to share here today.
 
And then I remember this poem—The Peace of Wild Things. 
 
This beautiful poem by Wendell Berry. And I think—oh, here are words that could be my words but different so. 
 
And so, The Peace of Wild Things. A poem by Wendell Berry.
 
Shalom Aleichem. Peace be to you.
 
~
 
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
 
~Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things

​1.  
 
I am lying on my back, outside in the sun, and my dog comes over and makes himself comfortable on my stomach. Just sits himself down. “This is a photo op,” I think. And grab my phone just in time to capture this. My dog. From a different perspective.
 
There are many things like this. Things that we can look at in many different ways. Things that we can consider from many different perspectives.
 
2.
 
What Hamas has done to the Israeli people is not one of these types of things that have more than one perspective.  There is only one perspective here.  
 
This is very important, what I am saying here. That there is only one perspective. This is very important as a Jewish person in this world. As a woman in this world. As a human in this world. 
 
What Hamas has done to the Israeli people is not a matter of perspective. There is only one perspective.
 
Hamas terrorists raped children and elderly woman until their pelvises broke.  A baby was cut out of a pregnant woman and beheaded, and then the mother was beheaded. Women and children were burned to charcoal. Bodies have been found without recognizable facial features because they were shot at such close range.  Bodies have missing hands, feet, legs, genitals.  
 
If you cannot unequivocally condemn rape, beheading, and torture of innocent people… if you, even just for one moment, consider that there may be another perspective that could justify even a bit of this... you have lost your humanity. 
 
3.   
 
Israel is not at war with the Palestinians. She is at war with terrorist groups that murder Jews in the name of Palestinian rights. She is at war with terrorists. Hamas is a terrorist organization.  Hezbollah is a terrorist organization. Just like Isis. Just like al Qaeda. These are terrorists. 
 
When terrorists attacked our country in 2001, look what we did. Why is it not ok for Israel to defend themselves from a terrorist attack? Why, when they defend themselves, are Israelis held to a standard that no one else on this planet would be held to when they are brutally attacked by a terrorist organization. 
 
This is anti-Semitism.  
 
When the US was attacked in 2001, people celebrated this and danced in the streets. And we condemned them. Why do you not condemn those that now celebrate the kidnapping of children? The beheading of babies? The terrorist attack on the soil of another country. People are applauding this all over the world. People applaud this in America.  People in this country are chanting “from the river to the sea.” In this country. Do you know what this means? This means cleanse the land of Jews. This is what this means. 
 
This is anti-Semitism. This is hatred of Jews. 
 
4. 
 
Just throwing this out here again for those who still wonder. The bombing of the Hospital in Gaza was not perpetuated by Israel. Hamas said it was Israel because it supports their narrative. When statements are released by terrorist organizations, perhaps questioning their authenticity should be the first step in deciphering the information. 
 
And why, when the world considered that it might be Israel, was it all over the news, and now that we know it was not Israel… it’s not news anymore…
 
Ok.
 
5.
 
The tell-tale sign of genocide is a specific population in decline because they are the target of extermination. 
 
In 1939 there were 18 million Jews in the world. In 1945, at the end of WW2 there were 12 million Jews in the world. 
This is a genocide.
 
In 1915 there were approximately 1.5 million Armenians living in the multiethnic Ottoman Empire. At the end of 1916 there were between 300,000 and 836,000 Armenians living in the Ottoman Empire.
This is a genocide.
 
In 1975 there were 7.8 million Cambodians living in Cambodian.  In 1979, at the end of the Khmer Rouge regime, there were 5.8 million Cambodians living in Cambodia.
This is a genocide.
 
In 2003 there were 1 million Palestinians in Gaza. In 2023 there are 2.3 million Palestinians in Gaza. 
This is NOT a genocide.
 
Please do not redefine a word to fit your narrative.
 
6. 
 
If you read this and assume for an instant that I do not have deep compassion for, and deep support of, the Palestinian people, you have misread the entirety of this writing.
 
7.
 
To be Jewish is very important to me. 

​The photo of Moose was taken and posted on their Instagram page, by the amazing staff at Ventura Dog Ranch.  Moose goes there when we are away. And we were both away last week for a few days.
 
I was away, back east, for way more than just last week for a few days. I have been away for three weeks now.  Three weeks! And heading back home today. 
 
I planned to post this when I was at Logan Airport. At the ungodly hour of 4:00 AM in the morning because I thought this flight made sense because…what was I thinking….  And now I am in SF waiting for a flight to SB which is delayed and gives me time to share this piece while it’s still a Monday morning and not yet afternoon….
 
Back east, at my home away from home, I went to a screening of an amazing short comedy film that Teagan wrote/produced/starred in/edited/created.  And I flew with my sister to see my dad at his home in Florida, and my mom at the care facility she is in, and where we (my dad, me and my sister) went to Yom Kippur services which I wrote about a few weeks ago, and where I spent time with my dad’s dog, Minnie, and oh my what a great dog, who I got to love up and walk a lot and I did her nails—did you know that I love to do dog’s nails and is that fulfilling that same deep, we are all just primates, let us groom each other thing? And where I got to see my beautiful east coast grandkids and my beautiful son and daughter-in-law and spend time at my sister’s (after we got back from Florida) and see my sweet cousin, who I just love so much, who lives near me near this beach that I live near that we kind of (as in we do and which, in all honestly, I truly love that we do) still own along with owning this paddock piece of land that gives us rights on this other amazing beach called Sandy Cove. 
 
And with all this, at one moment in this busy three weeks of time, I had this really interesting conversation with my niece about the ability we have to be in relationship with others that we deeply care about. And what we do when we can’t. When we are in this—I care so much and I can’t be near you—place.
 
And this is what I want to talk about today.
 
Upon reflection, I have come up with a number of different reasons why I think this happens. Why I believe that there are times where we need to let go of those who give us joy while also creating great pain within us. 
 
Here goes:
 
We just don’t have the bandwidth to be present with another person because there is so much going on in our own lives, and we just can’t show up. We’ve got nothing. Our tank is empty. 
 
Or we project outward and our triggers get triggered and get in the way and we are reactive rather than responsive.
 
Or we make it all about ourselves because we are attached in a way that is unhealthy and not grounded in our own power of self-responsibility. 
 
Or we deeply know that our soul and human evolution is moving at a different speed/in a different direction/for a different purpose and our connection to this other is not in alignment to where we are at.
 
And yes, I know that there are people in our lives that we should not have in our lives. This is not that. 
 
This is about those people who we value and trust and care about where, in this moment, it is just not right.  It is just not right in that oh so painful—because you are, in so many ways, just right—way. 
 
And what happens is—when this person who we love is also this person who we need to let go of—we hold on. Really tightly.  Until we can’t any longer.
 
There is an emptiness and a sadness that comes along with this. Because even though this decision to let go is essential to our well-being, it was not a happy one. And we often don’t talk about the grief that comes with recognizing this and having to pull away. And then to have to remind ourselves not to mistake the grief for regret. To remind ourselves that this sadness and loss, it is not a greenlight to return to misalignment. 
 
This is a messy place to be. Feeling that something is the right choice and not feeling good at all. Both. At the same time.

I saw these bicycles down below the window in the studio I was taking a Somatic Movement class in.
 
I was in my daughter’s class.  A Monday night Release and Reset Somatic Movement and Voice Activation and dropping into our selves and our bodies in whatever way called for us to go within the container of where Teagan called for us to go.  It is an extraordinary class. 
 
And at one point, as we moved about the studio and I looked out the windows and down below, I saw these bicycles. Ordinary but not. Nestled against each other. A cluster. And waiting. 
 
After class I grabbed my phone from the cubby on the wall where we all keep our things while we are Somatically moving together in this room, and ran back in to capture this image, in still life.
 
I wasn’t sure what this was about really. Why this image, these bicycles clustered together like this, below the window, waiting, was so compelling. In that moment I wasn’t so sure. And then, just the other day, A good 45 days after taking this photograph, I came upon this poem.  
 
It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?
 ~~The Patience of Ordinary Things, by Pat Schneider

Ah, this is why. This is why I love these bikes. This cluster of ordinary bicycles. Patiently waiting to take their ride home.
 
When I got down to the street, after my class, a group from the restaurant directly below from the studio above, they were walking to their rides. They each pulled these patiently waiting ordinary bicycles, one away from the other, and quietly peddled away.  

​Last night was the first night of Yom Kippur. Which includes the opening prayer of Kol Nidrei. Which I love. I just love this night. I love the music and the prayer and the reflection. I love the time we take within the service to pray alone. To meditate. To be inside ourselves while we are inside this community. This is my favorite of all the Jewish Holidays and the only night that I attend each year.
 
This year, for the sermon, the Rabbi spoke about Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden after they had eaten the forbidden fruit and were hiding from God.  They were hiding and then this friggin’ badass Rabbi starts talking about the concept of duality. 
 
And then she segues into Internal Family Systems and quotes Dick Schwartz, who founded this amazing methodology of self-integration and acceptance and presented to the world this idea that all the parts of us—our Internal Family—are good. That, to coin his phrase, there are “no bad parts.”
 
And I sat in this community center—with floor to ceiling windows looking out on lush green grass and this weird and massive sculpture that looked like boat sails, kind of—that doubled as a synagogue on this most holy of nights and I thought--
 
Of course I am here on this night in this space listening to this Rabbi as she quotes Dick Schwartz and talks about integration and all our parts and showing up fully as ourselves. As she talks about not hiding. Just as Adam and Eve did not hide. When God called out to them, they said Hineni—Here I am.
 
Here I am.  La Shana Tova. A good year.