"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.

Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

The world is filled with miracles and overflowing with beauty. Each living being on this Earth is a wonder. We humans, drift about, often blind to the life that thrives around us. We become so caught up in our daily trials...whether it be work, family, or financial issues...we all have a lot on out plates. We become disconnected from the beautiful world in which we live. Sometimes, the universe intervenes, and reminds us of the wondrous miracles that surround us.

These miracles can come in all shapes and sizes. I watch my garden grow with joy and pride, knowing I planted them from seeds. I gather strength and inspiration from trees, as they reach their limbs towards the heavens, and their roots deep into the earth. We should ground ourselves deeply, and reach just as high. (It's no wonder tree pose is my favorite yoga pose. Perhaps a topic for another day? Ah! Don't you love when the gears start really turning?) Among this miracle and that miracle...some truly stand out. They shape you, change you. Change your heart....or rather, they open your heart.

Monday Evening: The first thing I saw was a shock of yellow, which, in that same instant began to move. Startled by the sudden movement, I jumped back and looked down. It was a baby bird, fallen from it's nest. (I later figured out that the nest seemed to have been abandoned.) His little mouth, (the brilliant yellow of a daffodil) was agape and asking for food as he stretched his neck as high as he could.

My father has a way with animals. They trust him. He rescued a praying mantis from Halloween Spiderwebs. He saved a bird that flew into our window. He's like the protector of all the little guys who can't protect themselves. A superhero version of Snow White. He hurried over, scooped the little bird up and carried him across the street to our home. We brought him into the yard, where we dug up some worms for food and checked to see if he was injured. The little guy was shaken, but OK. So, we build a make-shift nest for him out of dead leaves and grass in a shoebox and after about an hour in our care, we brought him back to the tree we found him next to, and watched from a safe distance to see if Mama Bird would show up.

Night fell, and there was still no Mama Bird.

The only thing we could do was take him in for the night to keep him out of harms way, and find a wildlife rehab center in the morning to nurse him back to health. After a few more bites of mushed up earthworms, we tucked him away in his little Nine West Nest, placed a hot water bottle next to his box in our garage to keep him warm and we said goodnight, knowing that he might not make it to morning. That night, I barely slept. All I could think of was his little chirp, and all I could see was his sweet face, reaching for food.

The sun crept through my window, and I woke with a start. 5:27. My brother and I walked to the garage, afraid of what we might find. But when we opened the door, we were greeted by a cheery little chirp! "He made it! He's alive!" We couldn't believe it. But the most incredible moment, was when my Dad walked into the room. The bird saw him, and began to clamber out of his box with outstretched wings and a chirp so energetic that I thought all of the neighborhood birds would be outside our window.

"No, no, Junior. That's the kind of behavior that got you in trouble in the first place."
With a chirp of defiance, he continued to climb out of the Nine West Nest, into my Dad's palm, nuzzled up and fell asleep. It wasn't until we tried to put him back in the little nest that he started up again. He climbed back up to my Dad's hands, and tried to stand as he flapped his tiny, not-quite-fully-developed wings. After a few attempts, he finally decided to stay in the nest and we began to take care of him. We fed him mashed worms from an eyedropper and contacted all of the wildlife rehab centers we could find in our area. Some weren't open, some weren't accepting animals at the time.

Dad would call every 2 hours or so: "How's Junior?" Apparently, our little friend had a name.
Throughout the day, he was fine. Eating, chirping, and doing a little poop dance every time he made. (He wiggles his butt, fluffs his tail stretches aaaaand poop! It's quite possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen. Yes, this baby bird turned pooping into an "Awww!" moment.)

The day went on. Suddenly it was Night #2 that Junior would be in our care, and we still hadn't found somewhere to take him in. So, last night we tucked him away the same way we did the night before. Hot water bottle, and all.

My alarm was set for 6:00 AM this morning, so I could get up and feed Junior. My brother and I went to the garage, he gingerly lifted the box and put it back down right away. He turned to me.
"He didn't make it." My heart dropped. The helpless little bird, fighter that he was, didn't make it through his second night.

And suddenly I was eight years old again, standing next to my father as he buried my hamster in the backyard. Fifteen years later, we dug a small hole for Junior's Nine West Nest (which we had covered and sealed), and I stood beside my parents and brother as we placed him into the Earth. In accordance to the Jewish Tradition, we each took a turn at covering the small grave. In my mind, that act is representative of facing the loss...of saying goodbye. As we buried him, I realized that somehow, in just one day, this spunky little bird had reached into my heart and made a place for himself there.

I truly believe that everything that happens, happens for a reason.

It was a miracle that the little bird survived his fall.
It was a miracle that we found him, instead of the neighborhood cat.
It was a miracle that he survived the first night, and the entire next day.


The biggest miracle, I think, was how he opened our hearts to love. To the beauty of the world, and reminded us all what is truly important.


As you go about your day, take a few minutes to pause and reflect on the miracles that surround us. Whether it be the chirping birds as they soar with grace, or a sturdy tree swaying in the wind...open your hearts to the beauty around you. Take it in, and allow yourself to be a part of it. Reconnect. Let go of the concerns that clutter you, and welcome the beauty of the world...the beauty of life.

^Nestled in his Nine West Nest ^

In my Dad's hand, dozing. He doesn't want the worm!


"FEED ME!"

If you ever come across a baby bird fallen from it's nest, PLEASE, do what the pro's say. Unfortunately, I did not know this information before we found him.

http://www.volunteersforwildlife.org/featherless-baby-bird/

http://www.volunteersforwildlife.org/storage/Copy%20of%20Baby%20Season%20Handout%20Insert%20with%20Newsletter.pdf

Have a beautiful day, everyone.

go with the flow

I adore winter, I really do. But this year, it wore me out. I caught a mean case of the winter blues, and crawled into hibernation. At the encouragement of a friend, I started thinking about getting more involved with yoga. I had already begun practicing meditation each evening, but I wasn't quite ready to commit to a full fledged yoga practice. I wasn't ready for it's power.

One gray morning, I woke up with my usual aches from a restless night. My body wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed, when I caught a glimpse of my old yoga mat, abandoned in the corner. I thought: "Maybe today?" I'd been awake 20 minutes and was already anticipating the dreary day ahead of me. "No, I'm too tired." In an attempt to relax, I browsed facebook and youtube for inspiration to get my day started when I came upon my friend's youtube page. He spoke of turning intention into action.

So after a full day of uninspired work, I discovered the power of yoga in a 90 minute hot class. Yoga pulled me out of the doldrums, cured my wintry blues and set my soul on fire. It reminded me how to dance in the rain, and how to feel alive. It rejuvenates me. It focuses me. It fills my body with strength. I feel happy, quiet, strong and healthy when I do yoga. Now, I am certainly not a yogini by any means. Not yet. But the influence yoga has had on me the past few months is transforming my life in all the best ways possible.

I've spent many days and nights distressing over what I want to do in this world. I don't have a steady job right now. And my path? It's still a little covered with moss. I haven't quite found it yet. During a yoga session, many people focus on the finished product...the final pose. I like to focus on the in-between. There is a graceful fluidity of yoga as you move between poses, and if you are in tune to it, the whole practice becomes like a dance. And when I finally do ground myself in the pose...it feels that much stronger because I enjoyed getting there. Then I move into something new.

Life isn't about the finished product, it's about the journey. Through my practice, I've figured out not to worry quite so much about where I'm going, and to just keep moving to whatever comes next.

As it began to rain tonight, I ran out to my driveway and welcomed the storm. The rain was thick and heavy as it fell from the sky, and before I knew it I was dancing and laughing with joy. Ain't life grand? :)

One Droplet.

In the vastness of this universe, we exist on one small dot. We are one part of what makes up something much bigger than ourselves. Imagine this window is the universe, and just one of these droplets is Earth. We all exist on that small droplet, living out our hopes and dreams. Experiencing loss, love, fear, joy, happiness. Everything in the history of the world that has ever happened has happened on that droplet. How magnificently humbling.

I think that this video truly sums up my thoughts on this photo. Please check it out.

Pale Blue Dot

H.O.P.E.

First, I want to apologize. I have been having some computer issues which resulted in a dead laptop this weekend, making it very difficult to get some free time on the family computer to write. I'll be back on track this week, and I'm hoping to bring some extra photos to the table each day for you all to make up for the past few days. Tonight however, I want to share something special. This was passed on to me by my neighbor from sophomore year (thank you, Allison!).

Now, I know this is not a photograph, however it is a very touching project and photos are a part of it.

http://thisiseleveneleven.com/

I hope that I do this story justice, I am summarizing it here to introduce you to it. I suggest checking out the website though to read this touching story.

Eleven/Eleven is a project being done by a young woman who lost her mother to cancer. Her goal is to fold 1000 paper cranes, as a message of hope. Paper Cranes are a symbol of good health according to Ancient Japanese Legend, so when her mother was sick, her sister folded 1000 cranes. The cranes became symbolic of not just good health, but of the love and hope they provided. They also served as a bonding experience for the sisters and their mother.

Now, her goal is to personlly fold 1000 paper cranes as a response to requests for hope. It's like an answer to your prayers taking form as a paper crane. She will send you the crane and as a response you take a photograph of where the crane is living, and post it to her website. To me, this is a true act of love. It is an act which will connect people and thread humanity together while weaving the great web of hope. We all have hope and it exists in many different forms. Let us recognize that we are not so different. We share a lot more than we realize. I hope for the more beautiful world we all know is possible. I hope for humanity connected. I hope for the well being of my friends and family. I hope for a world that is cancer-free. I hope for many many things. What do you hope for? Place yourself on the thread of humanity by recognizing your own hopes, and then recognizing that the person sitting across from you on the subway might be hoping for the exact same thing. Separation is an illusion. If they are not hoping for the same, isn't it enough to know that they are hoping for something?

Connect yourself to humanity, and to this cause. Let us spin that great web of hope together. In doing so, you will not only provide this young woman hope but she will provide you with a hope as well. A hope for whatever it is that you hope for.

We are one human race, all existing in the same space. Share the hope, share the love.

H.O.P.E.

--Thank you to Allison Berger for sending the link for this project my way. And Thank you to Kaleena, for the inspiration and for sharing hope. Your story and this project truly touched my heart, as I'm sure it has to countless others. Best of luck!