Adventure is out there.

I've got big dreams. Like...crazy, big dreams. But don't we all? I know so many people who have put aside their dreams and their passions in favor of a stable job. That weekly paycheck is awfully tempting, I know. I've been there. Except, I wasn't satisfied. My soul was burning, and crying. It was reaching out, trying to escape the cubicle I forced it into.


It took me two years after graduating college to have the courage to pursue the life I want to live. Now that I have taken the first steps on that path, I am overwhelmed with this sense of possibility. Anything is possible, life is wonderful, and the world is beautiful.

My eighty-something year old neighbor passed away the other night. Yesterday, my brothers friend was found dead in his car. Suicide, they're saying. Two lives, one, teetering on the edge of opportunity. The world was his oyster. The other, a life well lived. A WWII vet, who sixty years ago, was fighting Nazis. Our lives here are a fraction of time. What we do with that fleeting, brief moment is up to us. What we make of our time here, is ours to decide. We have the power within us to do great things. To see, feel and experience the world. Why do so many people cower from lifes magnificence? I cannot answer that question, and I am (more often that I'd like to admit) guilty of the crime. We become overwhelmed, and afraid. We hurt.

But we are stronger than we realize. We are also braver than we realize.

This is why, for 2013, I am starting a personal blog project called: "Bucket List: 365."

365 adventures in 365 days.

Here are the first 30 Bucket List items I've come up with. My list needs to be much, much bigger. Suggestions are welcomed, and encouraged.

1. Watch baby turtles hatch in the wild.

2. Listen to a stranger tell their life story.

3. Learn how to ride a horse.

4. Ride an elephant.

5. Cook something completely new, and challenging!

6. Watch all of the Godfather Movies.

7. Go skydiving.

8. Go rock-climbing outside.

9. Learn to surf.

10. Visit Niagra Falls.

11. Go trapeze-ing.

12. Stay up all night, and watch the sunrise.

13. Be part of a flash mob.

14. Go skinny dipping.

15. Spend a day in silence.

16. Learn to scuba dive.

17. See the Northern Lights.

18. Participate in a 5K.

19. Ride in a hot-air balloon.

20. Swim with dolphins.

21. Sleep under the stars.

22. See a Cirque-de Soliel show.

23. Learn a magic trick.

24. Take a ballroom dance class.

25. Learn to snowboard.

26. Plant a tree.

27. Learn to knit.

28. Give out free hugs.

29. Compliment a stranger.

30. Learn to juggle.

There are some big ticket items in here, and some small. I need a wide variety of each. I'll post my next 30 tomorrow! The adventure begins on New Years Day. January 1, 2013.

I have no idea if this is going to work. But why not try?

My days will now begin at 4:30. I do my best writing before dawn, anyway. I've written out an entire daily schedule for myself, and yet, I still don't think there are enough hours. I have to manage to squeeze into my day: writing time, business/PR time, yoga, bucket-time, blogging, and my part-time waitressing gig. In August, I will have to balance it with a move to Israel and earning my masters. The busier I am, the more I am capable of accomplishing. I've always been like that. The stakes are higher, and the mind is sharper. If I devote my mornings to business and PR, then my afternoons and evenings can be devoted to this project.

Time to live, dammit!

Happy almost New Year, everyone. Make your life the adventure you always wanted.

Love,

Ariela

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And a Happy New Year

As 2013 approaches, I find myself reflecting over the last year. It's been twelve months of ups and downs. I've had moments of sheer joy, and moments where I've felt utterly lost. I've accomplished a lot this year, and set my life on a path that I am not only pleased with...but excited for. We must live with excitement. We must seek joy.

Lately, I've been stuck. My book is selling relatively well, and I've done plenty of readings at schools. I even had the remarkable opportunity to share my book with the kids at Penn State Hershey Children's Hospital. But my creative mind is itching for more stories. So, I sit down and write. Or rather...try to write. I believe that I am the most indecisive writer to have ever dared to call herself an author. I find myself jumping between different stories, and different plots, because I can't choose which I'd rather write. I am stuck in the mud.

I've decided that as I continue to squeeze stories out of my brain, I need a second project. Something exciting, and fresh. Something that will get me out in the world, experiencing life the way I've always wanted to. So. In honor of an adventurous new year, I am beginning a blogging project called: "365: The Bucket List Challenge." The idea is to create a massive bucket list (complete with your suggestions) and complete one challenge every day, for 365 days. They won't all be big challenges. Some will be simple, like: "To cook a new recipe." or: "Read an entire book in one day." Some will be crazy, like: "Skydive!" or "Have a silent rave in the middle of Times Square." The goal is to live each day with excitement, and joy. The goal, really, is just to live.

I will be keeping a blog and vlog throughout the whole adventure. I will be taking suggestions for my big ol' bucket list until January 31. The adventure begins on February 1st. I'm looking forward to sharing my adventures with you! Leave suggestions in the comments section, or email me at: bucketlist365@gmail.com

Happy Wednesday, everyone! :)

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Sunrise: December 19, 2012.

Do you ever have those moments where the world is so perfectly beautiful, and everything feels as it should? Where you feel connected to everyone and everything around you, as you harmonize to the song of life. Where for just one fleeting moment, everything is perfect. There is no pain, no sadness. No overwhelming grief.

This morning, I caught a glimpse of the sun as it rose. It was already daybreak, but the sky was still recovering from the beauty of dawn. Pink clouds stretched across the sky, shaded with a deep magenta. The sun added hues of yellow-such a perfect warmth. It quite literally took my breath away. I stood at the foot of my driveway, with two dogs, and gazed at the magnificent beauty of our Earth.

Then, as quickly as that moment came...it was gone. My dogs continued their mad dash for the grass.

In times of suffering, I have always turned to our natural world to heal. When I saw the sky this morning, I felt an incredible reassurance. It told me that despite the evils that exist, there will always be moments of perfect joy. There will always be moments of breathtaking beauty.

No sunrise can change the pain we all feel this week. But perhaps, the very fact that the sun did rise can offer some comfort. For even when we feel as though time has stopped, it plows forward. The sun continues to rise, and as it does, it dazzles us with its beauty. It reminds us that we are alive.

 

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Our Children

Friday, December 14, 2012 was my 25th birthday. I decided I needed to spend a day away from the great glowing rectangles. I decided to get out into the world, and have a bit of an adventure. After all, to write about life, we must experience it. But where does one go for an adventure on Long Island? So, I bought a groupon for an indoor rock climbing gym, hopped in the car, and drove 45 minutes to this warehouse-gym. I learned how to tie fancy knots, how to belay, and to my delight, discovered that I am a natural climber. Who'dathunkit??

Right before I began my first climb, my heart was jumping out of my chest. My thoughts flew back and forth between sheer excitement, to utter insanity. Finally, I let the excitement take over. I scaled my first wall in minutes, and upon reaching the top, I looked down. When you're clinging to a wall thirty feet from the ground, all of your noisy thoughts melt away. It's just you. Living, breathing, and marveling at the strength of your own body. In order to get down, you have to let go of the wall and fall back, allowing your climb partner to belay you to the ground. It's a floating sort of fall--as you make your way back to the ground. But in the moments before I let go, I felt ALIVE. I could feel my heart pumping my blood through my veins, and I was hyperaware of my body. I felt every particle of my own existence, and it was amazing. Needless to say, I can't wait to do it again.

When I got home, I logged onto facebook to find a flurry of notifications--all well wishes for my birthday. I felt loved, and happy. Then, I started to scroll through my newsfeed. It was about 5:30 pm. Statuses spoke of a shooting, and of innocent children. They spoke of gun laws, school safety, and tragedy. The hyperawareness of my body returned, only this time, I felt a huge weight within it. My body was alive and strong, but my heart hurt. It felt heavy. I didn't want to believe the things I was reading. It couldn't be real. I slowly walked out of the computer room to find my mother. "Mom--what happened in Connecticut?"

I am so stunned by the sheer horrors of this tragedy. I think of the children I read to, their brilliant smiles, their wonderfully creative minds, and their innocence. I still cannot wrap my mind around this awful thing. I cannot fathom how one person can cause so much pain, and destroy so many lives. I can barely bring myself to open the newspaper, let alone, look at the front page. I remember the Colombine shooting--I was in fourth or fifth grade, and suddenly teachers were remarkably strict about how children treated one another. If anyone said: "I'm gonna get you/kill you/hurt you", you were immediately sent to the principal. It didn't matter if it was a joke, or if it was part of the game you were playing. Threats were taken seriously. But there was no threat in Connecticut. There was no threat in Aurora. Some things we cannot prepare for. This year has seen too many tragedies. Children killed. Lives cut short, and families, shattered.

Our people need to grieve. But something must be done. I'm angry that we live in a world where violence is becoming the answer. Violence is NOT okay. Teasing, and bullying kids because they're "different" is NOT okay. That can lead to violence. 

I don't think gun laws are the biggest issue here. We need to look at school safety. Example: I was delivering books the other day to local elementary schools. Do you know that not ONE person asked for my name, or ID? They opened the school doors for me, without question. Unacceptable.

Another major problem, and what think is the root of it all...is our culture. It's too easy to blame faulty laws. We must take responsibility, for we have created the mess that we are living in. Violence is too accessible for our children. It's everywhere--in their TV shows, their video games. It's all over the internet. How do we protect them from it? CAN we protect them from it?

Last night, I clicked through a slideshow of those who were killed. I memorized each face, and whispered "You are loved. You will not be forgotten."


We mustn't allow this to become another "deadly shooting." We must remember this tragedy as the day that twenty children, ages 10 and under, were killed. We must remember the random act of violence that stole their lives, and broke their families. We must remember the heroic teachers who gave their lives to protect their students. We must remember those, who by some miracle, were spared. Their lives are forever changed.

I feel so very grateful to be alive. To be able to feel the strength of my body, as I climb walls. To be able to celebrate another birthday, with my family. To wake each morning, as the sun peaks through my window. To be able to taste the crisp winter air. My heart is broken for those who no longer can. Take a moment, each morning to greet the day. To allow yourself to feel grateful for it.

The world is a scary place. Children won't understand the sad things, or the bad things. But we can help them through it by showing them the good things. I want to inspire children to imagine, and to create. I want to show them how beautiful the world can be. I want to be there for them when it gets too scary. That's why I'm a children's writer. I hope that through my work, I can make a difference in the life of a child.

My heart goes out to the entire Newtown community. Nothing I can say, will ever heal the enormous loss you are all feeling. I cannot comprehend it. All I can say, is that you have my prayers. You have my love. Be strong for your children. Show them that there is good in the world, too. You will be okay.

Look for the good things in the world. We will all be okay.

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Holiday Giveaway Challenge!

Hey everyone! The week is off to such an exciting start. First, there was the news that a donor at Hershey Children's Hospital ordered 20 copies of The Gray Days, to give away to some of the patients. If you ever read this, thank you for making it possible to put my book in the hands of Hershey's kids.

Today, it's the launching of my holiday giveaway challenge! I'm really excited for this one! Here's how to enter:

1. Like The Gray Days on facebook.
2. Ask your kids/niece/nephew/brother/sister/neighbor etc... "What is Imagination?"
3. Record their response.
4. Post it on The Gray Days Facebook page!
5. Share it!

The video with the most LIKES will win a signed copy of The Gray Days, and our official bookmark! I am super excited to see your responses, so let's get going!

The contest runs until Monday, December 17, and winners will be announced the 18th!

Good luck!

Inspire Tomorrows Miracles

The Penn State IFC/Panhellenic Dance Marathon, more lovingly referred to as simply: THON, was one of the many reasons I chose Penn State. It's a year long fundraising effort, led by students, which culminates in a 46 (back then, it was 48) hour no sitting, no sleeping dance marathon. All money raised benefits the Four Diamonds Fund, at Hershey Medical Center.

In THON 2010, Love Belongs Here, I fulfilled my dream to dance.

It was early Sunday morning (I think?), and I was with my parents, standing knee deep in a bucket of ice water. I was leaning on my mom, crying because my body was so sore. The cold hurt, which made me cry even harder. But somewhere during the excruciating 10 minute ice bath, I forgot about my pain. Somewhere during those 10 minutes, a child walked into the room and I remembered what I was doing, and why. I realized that no matter how much I was hurting, the kids go through treatments far more painful than a measly ice bath. My pain was nothing compared to what they go through. I had to be strong. Their eyes were filled with life, love, hope and joy. This realization brought on a fresh bout of sobs, and as I stood there, weeping into my moms shoulder, I knew I was ready to finish strong.

Giving up had never been a question. But in those moments of pain and exhaustion...it was too easy to forget why I was there. It was too easy to focus on myself, but all it took was a glance from a child to remember. I would not back down, because those kids were my superheroes.

I remember blurs of color, salty tears, stiff legs, achy feet, and the smell of baby powder. But I also remember smiling, laughing children. I remember water-gun fights, and piggy-back rides. I remember getting a high-five from every member of the blue band, and I remember dancing and jumping with the kids.  I remember rolling my feet on a water bottle while I cried through family hour, and the silence that filled the room. I remember the giant dance party that erupted in the final hour, and then, that euphoric moment, when I sat down for the first time, thinking: "I did it." Then, the earth-shattering cheers when the total was announced, as dancers collapsed with joy into each others arms. "We did it!"

Since graduating, I've struggled to figure out who I want to be in this world. I always knew that whatever I wound up doing had to be creative, but it took THON to show me that it had to be for children.

I am so excited to announce that this month I will be sharing my debut book, The Gray Days, at a Milk & Cookies Storytime Event at Penn State Hershey Children's Hospital. (Please note: This is a private event, for the kids and their families.) I am so touched to have the opportunity to continue supporting THON, and the Four Diamonds Fund in my professional life.

For The Kids, Forever and Always,

Ariela

Giveaway Has Ended!

Thank you to everyone who entered my Goodreads Flash Giveaway! In just 48 hours, a total of 523 people entered to win! I wish I could send every single one of you a copy...but alas, there's only one winner.

Don't forget to become my fan on Goodreads, and on Facebook! You'll hear about events, and future giveaways before they start! Thanks again, everyone! I had so much fun with this giveaway!

Happy Friday, and Happy (almost) Halloween!!!

FLASH GIVEAWAY!

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

Today is an exciting day. Oh yes, oh yes. Through Goodreads, I have just launched a 48 hour Flash Giveaway to win one, SIGNED copy of The Gray Days!!!!

watch the trailer.

That means you have....41 hours, 15 minutes and...40 seconds left to enter!

enter the CONTEST.

Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor. ;)

Love,

Ariela

As Far As Imagination Can See

Greetings friends!

It's been quite some time since I last blogged...life has been wild! My trip to Israel was postponed due to the release of my debut children's book, The Gray Days. It came out on September 9th, and I've been promoting it through book tours and author signing events. The past few months have been such a wonderfully exciting blur.

In case you haven't heard of the book yet, The Gray Days takes place in a world where the sky rains ash, while rivers of cement wind through forests of hollow, dead trees. In this world...imagination is extinct. I know...it sounds like a pretty grim setting for a children's book, right? But don't fret! Determined to rediscover imagination, seven year old James sets out into the world armed with nothing but hope. He must discover if he has what it takes to help the world leave the gray days behind forever.


Check out the official book trailer !

Anyway, reading the book to kids has been such a remarkable experience. I recently read to a class in which one of the children was legally blind. Now, I know this book by heart...so I am able to watch their reactions while I tell them the story. As I spoke, her face was tilted up and she wore a big smile. I wondered what she was imagining...what the words were painting for her.

Last night, I got my answer. I received a stack of thank you letters from her class. This is hers:

Attached to the Braille letter, was a typed translation from her aide. It says:

"Dear Miss. Rossberg, 

Thank you for reading your book to our class. I really liked it! My favorite part was when the trees came alive. I liked this part because the leaves started growing on trees. Another reason why I liked your book is because I loved the part when it rained. I like this part because it rained and rain makes me feel comfortable. I really appreciate you coming to read to us."

I can't tell you how many times I've read this letter. How many times I have run my hands along the Braille, trying to decipher the letters and words. I cannot. This letter brought me to tears. I was so moved that my words were able to paint a picture for this child, and allow her to see as far as her imagination could reach. 
Endless vision...for there is no horizon for the imagination. 

I didn't realize that I'd be the one learning when I set off on these book tours. Yet this girl, and her letter moved me...taught me. 

There is no horizon for the imagination. 

A Response to the Attack in Bulgaria

As many of you already know, (and if you don't...you should probably switch to a less biased news source) yesterday there was an attack on Israelis in Bulgaria. I'm not here to report the story-but to sum it up: a man  detonated an explosive device on a bus filled with Israeli tourists. 

That was the scene yesterday after the bomb was detonated. 

I just watched a clip of the coffins, shrouded in the Israeli flag, being carried off the planes that brought them home. It left me in tears. It left me shaking. 

It was no coincidence that the bomb went off on a bus filled with Israelis. Six lives were lost in this horrific act.  Five Israelis, and the sixth, a Bulgarian man--the bus driver. 

-Maor Harush, 24

-Elior Price, 25

-Itzik Kolangi, 28

-Amir Menashe, 28

-Kochava Shriki, 42

-Mustafa Kyosov, 36

All were young, with full lives ahead of them. Two infants are now fatherless. One victim was exactly my age. Their lives have all been cut short. Their futures have been denied. Because of an act of hatred.

I don't remember the first time I realized that there are people out there that hate the Jews--people that would look at me, and feel nothing but contempt because of who I am. I have never witnessed an act of antisemitism. I have, however, been the victim of antisemitism on the internet. About a week after I posted this VIDEO, a tribute to the Six Million who were murdered by the Nazis, someone commented: "go sit on a bagel you heeb." Granted, they could have said much worse, but it left me slightly shaken. 

I will never forget one incident that occurred during college: I was walking to the HUB. As I rounded the corner, a sign made my stomach drop--my body seized up and I could not move. There was a sign, held by a man--I remember nothing of him--but I will never forget the sign. It is burned in my mind. I had only seen it in photographs previously...but there, in person..was one large, ugly swastika.  

When I caught my breath, I saw the rest of the sign. He was protesting abortion. His use of the swastika disturbed me greatly, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one who felt that way. It scared me. I willed myself to continue walking, and went about the rest of my day. But I couldn't shake the uneasiness that had settled within my bones. 

In about a week, the Olympic Games will begin. Despite a viral petition, the International Olympic Committee still refuses to hold one minutes silence during the opening ceremonies to remember the 11 Israeli Olympians who were brutally murdered during the 1972 Games. The IOC claims that they do not wish to bring politics into the games. They are, admittedly, afraid that Arab countries would walk-out. What does that mean? It means that they are afraid to piss off the countries who hold anti-Israel views. If the athletes were from any other country, it would be done. Without question, and without hesitation. This has been 40 years in the making. 

It's time for the world to stop being afraid of supporting Israel. It's time for the world to understand that a country, less than 100 years old, is one of the greatest start-up nations on our planet. It is home of some of the most groundbreaking scientific and medical research, and home of some of the most innovative companies. Israel, in less than 100 years, took a desert wasteland and figured out how to turn it into a thriving desert garden. 

It's time for the world to recognize that Israel is not the enemy.

The folks who blew up a bus yesterday in Bulgaria...they're the ones to watch out for. 

My prayers go out to the victims of yesterdays horrid attacks, and the affected families. 

Am Yisrael Chai. 

With love, 

Ariela

A Case of the What-Ifs

As I grow closer and closer to making my dreams a reality, I cannot help but think of the courage it takes to embrace our true identities, and achieve that which we are meant to achieve.

We often find ourselves at a moment of recognition, when it becomes clear to us what we must do. We can see the path unfolding before us, laying out the journey that we must take. It is never easy to embrace this path, and we often become so taken with fear that we cannot move forward.

We catch a nasty case of the "What-if's?"
"What if I fail?"
"What if nobody cares?"
"What if it's the wrong decision?"

But, I challenge you this, my friends.

What if we didn't think like that? What if we embraced, I mean, truly embraced every opportunity? What if we embraced our own hearts, and respected the voice in our head that guides us? 

At the crossroad where we are presented with our path...it is natural to feel doubt. But we must leave it at the crossroad, and not carry it with us through our journey, for doubt is a heavy burden. We must abandon doubt the minute we make the decision to move forward. But we cannot forget that we felt it. 

Now, I am no Biblical expert, nor will I pretend to be. However, my mind wanders to the story of Moses. I won't lie...it's mainly because I just caught a bit of the animated film, The Prince of Egypt, over lunch. After I reminisced of my 11th(?) birthday party at the movies, I got to thinking about the actual story. Here was a man who grew up believing he was one thing, until one fateful day when he discovered he was another.

Cue the identity crisis. 

Moses accepts his true identity and leaves Egypt. Later, he is faced with a great task: to free the Hebrews from Egypt. He can ignore it, or he can embrace it. Certainly, there were many "What-ifs" in that case. But G-d presented him a task, and he embraced his G-d given purpose--thereby fulfilling his destiny.

He trusted the unknown.

What if we did the same? 

Before I made the decision to go to Israel, I struggled a great deal with whether or not I should take this enormous step. The What-ifs had a strong hold of me, and I thought up every possible scenario of how things could go terribly wrong. It wasn't until I realized that I was just making excuses for myself...because What If...none of these scenarios happened? What if I went...and it was amazing? What if I changed my life? I remember the excitement that rushed through me as I realized that YES, I could actually do this. 

I am working harder than I've ever worked in my life to make this happen, and I occasionally find the shadow of doubt creeping up behind me in an attempt to bring me down. Sometimes, it succeeds. It will grab a hold of my ankle and weigh me down, dragging me beneath the waters into the depths of uncertainty. It is in those moments that I must remember how to trust. It is in those moments, that I must remember that even when it seems hopeless, when it feels like nothing is happening with my work--that the seeds have been planted, and no garden grows overnight. 

It may take some time for all the pieces to fall into place, but work hard and trust what you are doing...the Universe will take care of you. 

An Olive Branch

When One-Thousand Paths Converge

There is a moment, when all of a sudden every path you've walked down suddenly converges into one. The heavy vines and brush have been cleared, chopped and hacked away. All that is seemingly left, is a well-lit path that glistens in the sun and sparkles in the night. You have found your path. Your destiny. That "thing" you know you are meant to be doing. That "thing" that you have to do, because it chose you. 

I had that moment several months ago. I was pondering how I could combine my love for Israel with my future as a writer. In a flash, as if it had been there all along, "Shabbat Across Israel" came to my mind. I began furiously typing the idea, lest I forget it. I found my path, and after years of wandering through a metaphorical desert (I don't know how the ancient Hebrews did it for 40 years...two years of being "lost" was enough for me!) Metaphorical Deserts aside..I truly believe everything in my life has led me to this. 

Growing up, I had the pleasure of sitting down with my entire family (great-grandmother included) every Friday night to share the Shabbat Meal. Our dinners gave me a strong connection to Judaism that I wouldn’t have found otherwise, and an extremely powerful sense of family.  By the time I was eighteen, I had been through roughly 936 Friday night Shabbat dinners at my Grandparent's house--but on June 2, 2006 the chair at the head of the table was empty for the first time. The sudden passing of my invincible Grandfather showed me the importance of my family's weekly tradition, for in the midst of sorrow, observing the Sabbath held us together. 

That realization got me thinking--when we examine the history of The Jewish People, we see a history filled with persecution. So how is it that after thousands of years we are still one of the major religions of the world? What is it that has kept us strong throughout the generations?

I believe the glue that holds us together is the Sabbath; I am embarking on a journey across Israel to explore the meaning of this tradition in all walks of Jewish life across the ethnic and socio-economic spectrum. The mission is to express the collective Jewish family through the observation and experience of Shabbat Across Israel.  This research will not only benefit the Jewish people, but it will show all people the true value of coming together as a family, demonstrating that family is the thread of every individual’s life, weaving together generations.

My immediate goal is to write a memoir discussing my Shabbat experiences across Israel. Each experience will be a unique look into the traditions of a family and community, highlighting the act of a family coming together. This book will serve as a means of connecting families, and the Jewish community across the world; as we live our hectic lives, we often need to be reminded that religion, and the traditions that come with it are not archaic, but rather a beautiful and spiritual experience to be shared with loved ones and passed on to younger generations.

The ultimate goal is to facilitate a conversation among young adults about the importance of tradition, and how they relate to it; as we race towards the future, it has never been more important for young adults to understand who they are and where they come from. I feel that beginning a conversation on the importance of our traditions in today’s fast paced world is vital to maintaining the Jewish people’s place in it, as a growing amount of teenagers and adults are rejecting their traditional heritage- to them it seems archaic.

Now, you have to understand...when I first set out to do this, I never imagined how excited other people would be about it. But, the response from both Jewish and Non-Jewish Communities has been overwhelming. Today, I spoke with a family friend, Bryan David Scott, who is a self-described “Mick from San Francisco”. He was so touched by my story, and by the act of observing the Sabbath. We spoke for nearly an hour, and I was truly humbled by his support of this project, by his love and respect of the Sabbath and of the Jewish Community. 

I may have found my path, but there is no way I can walk down it alone. In order to accomplish this research, I need to raise $45,000 to cover the initial expenses. I would like to offer you the opportunity to be a part of this exciting, new research project that will play a phenomenal role in the Jewish Future. A financial sponsorship would enable me to conduct my research across Israel for the next year. For you, it will mean participating in an endeavor that will demonstrate your commitment to community, and show a dedication among people of all faiths towards the preservation of family.

If you or your company is interested in learning more about "Shabbat Across Israel", please view the facebook page and contact me through there, or at AJR5127@GMAIL.COM

Thank You. 

My family, gathering to observe the Passover Sedar

We are the story collectors, keepers and tellers.

Shalom, my friends. I originally wrote this as an email update to my amazing creative imagination workshop friends. They have been my source of creative inspiration for the past year. They were the first ones to call me a writer. Without their love, and beautiful creativity...I would not be where I am today. 

It's been almost a year since I met them, and I can't help but find myself reflecting on how far I've come. Imagine your life last year at this time. What were you doing? If the July 6, 2012 version of you told the July 6, 2011 version of you what you were up to now...would you believe your future self?

I know I wouldn't. I most definitely wouldn't. A year ago, I was a completely different person. I was afraid to take risks, but I spoke highly of the importance of taking one. My soul was yearning to bust out and explore, but I was afraid to let it. I wouldn't call myself a writer if you held a gun to my head. Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic. I wouldn't call myself a writer because I was so set on following the path I had determined for myself, and I was afraid to stray. Little did I know: straying from the path is exactly what led me to the one I'm thrilled to be on now. 

I am preparing to embark on the journey I've always dreamed of.

As a child, I fancied myself a globetrotting storyteller...a woman with wild hair and a worn pair of hiking boots that travels everywhere and anywhere, collecting people's stories. This was a fantasy. It never seemed feasible. Never, ever in a million years would my parents allow that! Never, ever in a million years could I make money doing that. So, I kept it in the back of my head: a fantasy, and nothing more.

But every so often I would be visited by the image of a woman, a figment of my imagination. She was an old, old woman with wrinkles etched into her face that told tales of joy and love. Her eyes were deep set and as deep as an ocean--they told of her life. She had experienced pain and sorrow in her time...but she was happy. Her life was and still was filled with laughter and love. I have always striven to be like the woman my imagination created...to learn from my pain, to laugh and live as fully as possible. I found quickly that it came naturally to me...perhaps this woman was my mind showing me who I could be. A happy, happy old lady filled with love. I never (until this very moment, actually) considered this woman to be a part of me, but rather, she represented the stories around the world that I had to collect. She was the little old woman who owned a villa in Italy, and walked every day to get a fresh basket of fruit. She was the woman who came to America by herself, and figured out a way to make a life. She was the old woman with the hump back, who walked across Manhattan every day with a walker full of bags, newspapers and old photographs. She had a story...and I had to collect it. 

Stories have always fascinated me...because I see them all around. Everyone has them. Everyone. That guy sitting across from you on the train? He's got a story. He's felt pain. He's loved, and lost. These are our shared human experiences...these are the things that connect us, regardless of where we come from or who we are. Our stories are what make us human. And that is why what we do as artists is SO important. Without us, everyone would be lost in a jumble of confusing technology...always looking at the bigger picture, instead of the precious, precious little details. Instead of capturing the stories that exist within the great web of life. Whether it be through written word, spoken word, music, dance, film, theatre, painting, sculpting, sketching...the list goes on! We are capturing, and creating stories. We are the story collectors, keepers, and tellers. 

And that wild haired woman with a worn pair hiking boots...well...

This summer, I am moving to Israel where I will spend the next year of my life collecting stories. I am writing a book/memoir about the importance of the Shabbat tradition in my life, and the life of the Jewish people. At age eighteen, I had been through roughly 936 Friday night Shabbat dinners at my Grandparent's house--but on June 2, 2006 the chair at the head of the table was empty for the first time. The sudden passing of my invincible Grandpa showed me the importance of my family's weekly tradition, for in the midst of sorrow, observing The Sabbath held us together. I am embarking on a journey across Israel to explore the meaning of this tradition in all walks of Jewish life. Each weekend of the year will be spent with a new host, experiencing their Shabbat, and collecting their stories. 

The first few months will be spent volunteering, hiking and learning. In October, I begin my year as a graduate student at Hebrew University of Jerusalem. I'm finally becoming the globetrotting storyteller I always dreamed I could be. 

If you'd have told me THAT a year ago...I'd never have believed you. 

So. I'll throw this out there for you...where are you in your life? Are you happy? Are you pursuing your passions and dreams? Listen to that small voice that dances in the back of your head...it knows exactly what you need to be doing. 

Love, 

Ariela 

I know, I know. I've already used this photo...but...it just works SO well with today's entry. 

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What's Meant to Be, Will Be.

Hello, hello to all of my beautiful friends!

If I had known what awaited me in my gmail inbox this morning, I wouldn't have hit snooze three times. My plan was to wake up at 7 to get some writing done, then go about my day and continue working to develop Shabbat Across Israel. I was tired. The past few days have been an absolute whirlwind. It started on Monday night when I attended the Nefesh B'Nefesh NYC TweetUp. I met some amazing people there, all of whom do wonderful work for Israel and the Jewish community; I formed wonderful friendships with everyone from journalists, to writers, to philanthropists, cooks and social media gurus. We shmoozed a little too long, and closed the place down! And I stayed up way past my bedtime tweeting.

After a long day at work on Tuesday, I drove out to Queens where I met with Mr. Paul Kaye and his lovely wife, Susan. Details on that meeting will follow in another entry, but to keep it brief: Mr. Kaye played a key role in the establishment of Israel. He was an Officer on the Hatikvah, and was one of the first American Volunteers for the Israeli Navy Seals. I spent nearly three hours talking with him and his wife...but I'll leave you drooling for more on this topic. ;)

It was another late, but productive night.

Which brings me to this morning.

7:00 AM. The "strum" tune on my iPhone begins to chime. SNOOZE.
7:15 AM. There's that tune again, demanding my attention. I gave it about 30 seconds worth, and hit snooze again.
7:30 AM. Already? Fine. I begrudgingly turned off my alarm, and accepted the fact that I had to start my day. First things first. Email.

Still lying in bed, I grab my phone and open up my inbox. As I scroll through my new messages, my heart skips a beat. "Graduate Admissions, RE: Application Status." Suddenly I was eighteen again, clutching a large envelope that read: "Undergraduate Admissions, Penn State University", knowing that whatever this letter read might just change my life. I took in that moment this morning, as the sun danced through my window. I enjoyed the peacefulness of that moment right before something big...the silence where all you hear is your own heart beating. I took a deep breath, and clicked.

All I managed to get through was "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted..." before I flung my arms into the air, and collapsed back into my bed with tears in my eyes. I couldn't believe it. I did it.

I did it.

I actually made this happen. I took the initiative and made this happen. As I lay there, I began to think about how we, as human beings, behave in the face of challenges and uncertainty. It took me two years to gather the courage and take this enormous step. But now that I have, I realize that no matter how stuck you may feel, you have the power to grab hold of the reigns and change your life so that it suits your dreams. If you want to travel, do it. If you want to learn to fly, then dammit, hop in a plane and fly. If you put in the work, the Universe will take care of you.

I bought a bracelet the first time I went to Israel, from Hadaya Jewelers. Inscribed on the hammered silver, it says in hebrew: "What's meant to be, will be. I will fulfill my purpose, I will achieve my dreams."

                                                       See you soon, my beautiful Israel.

Adventure is Out There!

Shalom, my friends!

As you all know by know, I am embarking on a journey across Israel to explore the meaning of the Shabbat tradition in all walks of Jewish life. My mission, to make this happen, has been driving me through the past few months...since the "Ah-ha!" moment when the idea decided to come forward from the depths of my mind where it has been hiding, and growing for six years--to now.

Between securing connections for Shabbat Experiences and locating sources of funding, the past few weeks have been particularly stressful. But I know that I have to trust the Universe...that it will take care of me once I set off to do what I know in my heart, I am meant to do.

For two years, I've gone from here to there with careers and ideas of what I want to spend my life doing...with "travel and write" floating in the back of my head, never actually thinking it could be possible. Yet here I am, finally listening to my heart and my head as they lay out the path for me. Sometimes, I get scared. This is a huge turning point in my life. I am re-claiming it, out of the grasp of the status quo. I am pulling myself away from the office drones who march through the streets, stepping on a crushed layer of "has -been" dreams, all sacrificed in the name of security.

I am uncomfortable, scared and excited all at once. I am not afraid of failure, because failure is not an option. I do not believe that I will fail. I cannot quite put my finger on what I am afraid of...probably just the massive change that I know is about to occur in my life, and where it will lead me. But without change, are we any better than the office drones who live in a cycle of monotonous repetition? Without thrusting ourselves into the unknown, or...off the metaphorical cliff, how will we know what our impact can be? How will we know if we are fulfilling our potential?

I trust this dream. I trust this adventure. I trust the Universe, and I trust that by committing to this...everything else will follow.

"Just F**king Do It!"

"Each minute that passes, I think more and more seriously about living here...my heart is overflowing with love of Israel. I could sit here all night, and just stare out the window. This city sparkles. It truly is Jerusalem of Gold. It is scary to me, very scary, how I feel right now.  My heart yearns to be here. To leave home, my dreams-just to be HERE. This is what love feels like.  I feel love for Israel in every fiber of my being. I feel it running through my veins--pumping my heart and keeping me alive.  When we entered Jerusalem today, I wanted to cry. The air here, it fills my lungs and lifts me away."

--Excerpt from my Israel journal 2008

Well folks, I'm taking that leap of faith I always talk so much about. I've applied to Hebrew University in Jerusalem for the One Year Graduate Program. While there, I will be working on my memoir: "Shabbat Across Israel." It's about the importance of the Shabbat tradition in my family, and in my life. Starting with memories of my family and our weekly Shabbat dinners, leading up to the first Shabbat after my Grandpa died--the first without the Patriarch of the family--I will discuss how our Shabbat traditions kept us strong, as a family and as Jews. Author Ahad Ha'am once said: "The Jewish people do not keep Shabbat. Shabbat keeps the Jewish people."

I will spend every weekend in a different location across Israel, so that I collect a wide range of Shabbat experiences. The mission is to demonstrate the collective Jewish family through the observation and experience of Shabbat across Israel. Through my journey, I hope to help others discover the beauty of Shabbat, and gain an understanding of how connected we are as Jews. Whether you're in New York or Israel on a Friday night...it is Shabbos, and Jews all over the world are united for 24 hours, not only with each other--but with their past, as well as their future.

Israel has always in my future...I just needed the push to get there. About a month ago, I was having dinner with a good friend at Eataly NY. We sat on the rooftop restaurant as I described my hopes to go to Israel. I will never forget her response: "Just f**king do it." And in that moment, everything made sense. Why shouldn't I do it? I can't live in fear of my what if's anymore. I have to just go. Just go, and just f**king do it.

So I began to research my options, and Hebrew University fell into my lap--it was meant to be. Their application deadline had been extended. I could do it. I could TOTALLY do it. So I threw caution to the wind, and here I am. If all goes according to plan, in one month I will be on my way.

I can't do this without outside support though. Please. Check out my fundraising page, and do a little  mitzvah.

Thank you so much. Love to you all.

Never Forget

Check out my Yom HaShoah Poem, Dedicated to the Six Million.

I will Never Forget

Never before have two words meant more, carried the weight of a nation, lifting us out of war.

Never again, we cry. We are the brothers and sisters, the daughters and sons of those who died.

WE are the echoes of silenced voices that scream to be heard-cries that yell: “I once lived!”

Can you hear them?

I do.

I hear them in the darkness of night, from the warmth of my bed.

I hear them-six million voices resonate in my head.

“Unto every person, there is a name.”

Tell me yours, child. Who were you when you were slain?

Tell me, so that we can share your pain.

What were your hopes? What were your dreams?

What was your life before the screams?

You need to be heard.

The world needs to know…

Tell me, child. How did you go?

"Shema Yisrael Adonai Elohainu, Adonai Echad.

Hear, Oh, Israel. The Lord is our G-d. The Lord is One.

Do not forget me.” She begs, as her prayer echoes in my head.

I swear to her that I will Never Forget.

Never forget.

I will Never Forget.

I will remember, every minute of every day.

I remember each time I pray.

I will teach it to my child, too.

Because I am proud to be a Jew.

Thoughts for My Family on Passover

As I walked up the driveway after a long but productive week, I couldn’t help but smile. Music danced through the front door, which had been left open just enough to allow the comforting smell of matzo ball soup seep into the street. There was something so familiar about it: the music, the smells…and then, once I was inside, the sight of my mother. My mother, who stood with her back to me as she stirred the soup, singing loud and off pitch to the music that spilled from the speakers of her old turntable.

Oh yes, this was familiar alright.

These were the sights and smells I grew up to-every Friday night. Back then, the music was almost always “Phantom of The Opera” and instead of soup, it was roast chicken. The most I could be trusted to do back then was pour chips into a bowl and set it on the snack table. I smile, as I watch my mother singing her way through the kitchen. Ah, well, there is work to be done. I put away my “big girl” bag, which is always stuffed with my handy dandy laptop, several notebooks and a handful of pens, at least one copy of my manuscript, an inspirational poem, and whatever book I am reading at the time. I kick off my shoes, and head into the kitchen, where I join the singing. We get along best like this, my mother and I, as we participate in the traditions that have become the foundation of our family life.

Now, despite the awful fuss over cleaning the kitchen, preparing the meal and a week of matzo pizza (delicious, but by day five it gets kind of old.), I love Passover. I love how my family comes together, and the idea that all over the world, there are thousands of other Jewish families arguing over who has to do the four questions this year. The Seder is not just your average holiday dinner. It is a moment. A moment shared by thousands of people, that connects us not only to our immediate family-but to the collective Jewish family of the past, present and future.

Just think about that for one second. All over the world, RIGHT NOW, Jews are gathering to begin the retelling of Our story.

We all know the story of Passover. We learned it in Hebrew School, we read it twice a year. Heck, we've even watched Charlton Heston part the Red Sea. The whole thing risks become routine. But tonight, by sitting around the Seder table tonight and reciting the story of our Exodus from Egypt, we are honoring our past, not just as individuals, but as Jews. This moment links us to our past, and paves the road for our future.

We were liberated out of Egypt, but this did not come until hundreds of years of suffering. But the story of Passover is not one of our suffering. It is one of our liberation and redemption. Our? I always found it interesting that we tell the story of Passover in first person. "We were slaves in Egypt..." But we weren't, so why say that? We have led comfortable lives. We are reclining in our chairs, the wine is sweet, the food is plentiful and the company is warm and loud. But still, "WE were slaves in Egypt." Why "WE"? Because by imagining ourselves as slaves of Egypt, we learn empathy and we learn hope.

Empathy to fill our lives and the lives of those around us with love, and Hope that we will be liberated from our own personal sufferings, however big or small.

By identifying ourselves with our ancestors, we strengthen our current place in the world as Jews. We learn how to face hatred, and we learn how to prevail.

Instead of dreading the telling (and retelling and retelling and retelling) of The Passover Story, we must share this moment, every year, and we must cherish it. Yes, the story is the same. But we are not. We have a whole new year of experience and lessons behind us. Do not forget that WE were slaves in Egypt.