Thursday, February 12, 2009

“For when a woman is left too much alone, sooner or later she begins to think; And no man knows what then she may discover” - Edwin A. Robinson

The oddest things force us into existential contemplation.

At the moment, my ailing computer is the culprit. Last week, at approximately 8:15 AM on Monday morning, my dear laptop crashed. The screen went black, then blue, then blank. Then it wouldn’t turn back on, then it did, then it didn’t again. When it finally came to, it started throwing an arsenal of error messages at me, with language that can best be described as technological potty mouth. We had a war of words for a few minutes before finally, a capitulation: “Do you want the system to repair itself?” Yes! Please! Do that! A few glorious moments of dan he coo it? (see my brother or the muppets for translation,) and then: freeze. Done. Dead.

I brought my lump of plastic and wires to the Israeli computer wizzes, (MS Word thinks this is spelled “whizzes,” so in the interest of intellectual honesty I’ll mention that spelling,) who proceeded to fiddle with it for a number of days. Finally, this Monday, I got the call: “hamachshev mesudar,” the computer is ready. I raced over to pick it up, excitedly pressed the “on” button, and enjoyed about 5 minutes of sheer pleasure clicking through my icons and intact documents. And then: freeze. Done. Dead.

I’m telling you there is something wrong with my finger tips, they touch computer keyboards, and things go haywire. It’s something out of the X-Files. (And I would know, considering I’ve seen every episode – yeah. I’m cool.) Anyway, they held on to it for a couple more days, and last night, I again get the call. More skeptically this time, I headed over to pick it up, and things did seem to be in working order. I paid them their 100 shekels, and brought home my laptop. I turned it on, ready to actually get some real work done for the first time in over a week. And then: freeze. Done. Dead.

Actually, this time it gave me a scary beeping noise first. Then it made weird pictures all over the screen, as if a menu bar had repeated itself over and over again. So now I have to bring it back to the computer guys, get my money back, and tell them to just reformat the damn thing (not before saving all my documents first, obv).

So why am I chronicling this sad state of affairs? I started off by saying something cryptic about existential contemplation. Basically, being without my computer for the past several days has really thrown me for a loop. It’s insane how dependent I am on that thing. And at first, I felt pretty silly. I was actually feeling a deep loneliness, as if one of my friends had gone away for a while. And my friends here would give me hugs and tell me that it’s just an object, Thank G-d it’s not my health, yada yada. And of course, they are right. They couldn’t be more right. But at the same time, I think there’s something to this whole loneliness thing. I have so much of my life on that laptop, so much writing, so many pictures, my job, my connection to everyone back home. Sure I can use the school computers to send emails (and type blog entries,) but it’s just not the same. It’s like eating breakfast in someone else’s kitchen after a sleep over. Something is just off.

In college I took a few bioethics courses, and one of the topics we discussed was the interaction between humans and technology. You can talk about this in medical terms, especially when you consider all the people walking around with pace makers, people on dialysis, on respirators, using artificial limbs. (How many artificial body parts do we have to have to be considered more machine than human? Where does our humanity lie? Ah, bioethics. I miss it.) But even before you reach the point of machines entering our very flesh, we have to realize that we really are just as dependent on them already, in terms of memory. We use our computers as extra memory banks, and our brains come to rely on them for storage, much like when we become very close to another person, and they start sharing our “load” of memories and experiences, though of course that is a crude analogy. In an article I read at Penn, we learned about how part of the pain someone feels when a loved one passes away is the pain of losing a part of themselves, in a very literal way, in the form of all those memories stored up in that person’s mind, which have just been lost forever. This is why, when someone’s computer “dies,” they actually feel some of that same pain – as tested with brain image scanning and whatnot by men in white coats with pocket protectors and taped up glasses. Obviously it would be ridiculous to say that losing your hard drive feels like losing a person you love. But there is a very specific element of that loss that is similar, and that is the loss of some small part of you that you had stored up within the other, which is now gone forever.

We can make all kinds of judgments on that, of course. Sounds pretty scary, actually, and something about it rubs us all the wrong way. But even just acknowledging it as a fact of reality is weird. I am in pain without my laptop. Not because it is expensive, not because I am in love with it, not because I am addicted to it. It hurts because part of my memory is in there, and I am separated from that. As a writer, my stories and poems and essays and rants are a huge part of my self-definition, they are a record of myself, a statement of my existence, a testament to my past and present. And it’s just hard to be away from that part of myself, to have to give that part of myself to an Israeli computer guy, or type it out on random old desktop computer, like I am doing now. Thankfully I didn’t actually lose my files, and hopefully I still won’t. But just being unable to access them right now is really tough. Lonely, even. Which brings me to the real point of this entry.

The reason I started writing this post is because we just read a piece in class by Rav Soloveitchik called “The Community”. It’s a very interesting philosophical essay on whether man is at his core a lone individual, or a member of a community. Judaism says it is neither, and both. Adam’s creation is recounted twice in the Torah: once at the same time as Eve, and once at different times. He is at once a singularity and a member of a partnership. And those have different connotations for his relationship with himself and others, and different implications on his behavior and mindset. The essay is fascinating, so I definitely recommend it. It really got me thinking about who I am at my core: am I essentially on my own or part of a partnership or group? Am I more one than the other? And I don’t think the answer is so easy. In fact, I think it is different for each person, though we all need both elements in our lives. I’ve always been the type to love being around one or two close friends – somewhere in between alone and part of a crowd. But in general, I think I may actually be the alone type. Not alone in the sense of a sad person sitting at home wishing they had more friends, though I’ve definitely been there before, as we all have. I just mean that I think I thrive better when I have space, even if I may often crave the opposite. Of course I am definitely the relationship type, but I think that’s more a craving for unity, in a spiritual sense, than for community. (Marriage in Judaism is probably the most beautiful concept I have ever learned, and rather than being defined as a partnership, it is defined as an actual coming together as one, like two flames that join. Deep stuff, but an awesome concept, that often gets taken for granted.) Everyone wants to be loved, but that’s a different feeling than the one I am describing. Anyway, I know I’m digressing. But according to this essay, alone-ness (as opposed to loneliness) is essential to creativity, uniqueness, and individuality. So maybe as a creative type, that alone part of me is stronger than I’ve acknowledged in the past. Maybe the fact that I’ve never been the type to have a large group of friends, but rather individuals here and there who I get very close to, indicates something deeper about who I am. Rather than lament that and wonder why I’m not more “popular,” I need to embrace that as something beautiful, something deep. And maybe the fact that I feel a strange type of pain when all my writing has been taken away from me (in the form of a computer stroke,) just means that I so identify with myself as an individual that losing the concrete manifestations of that self feels almost like losing a part of my own personal internal community.

No one can exist in a vacuum, and I believe we can only reach our greatest spiritual potentials as members of a partnership, a family, a larger whole. But it helps sometimes to recognize the importance of our alone-ness as well. Our modern world is one of alienation and loneliness, characterized by fake online relationships, distant communication, and the ability to survive without ever having to leave your house. This is of course an unhealthy extreme. But interestingly, in that state, we actually lose our sense of self even more than we would as part of a real community. The trick is knowing how to be part of something, while maintaining yourself as an individual, and knowing when to take the time to make that happen (see previous post). Maybe being alone isn’t so bad, as long as you know how to define that state, and use it towards enhancing those times when you are with others. I could go on and on, but I’ll stop now. (btw, don’t misinterpret what I’m saying here, obviously it’s not so bad to lose a computer, I’m just using the feeling as a starting point for these other thoughts.)

See, anything can be turned into a philosophical treatise!

Anyway that’s me these days. Sitting around, writing in journals (my hand hurts SO much,) wishing I had my laptop back and healthy again, and finding meaning in even the most mundane experiences. It’s a good life.

Love, shira

PS just got back from the computer place. They said HP just sent out a thing about how certain models have internal hardware issues that may need to be sent in to be fixed. Mine was on the list. Argh. Looks like I might not have a laptop for quite some time.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

“Clarity of mind means clarity of passion, too; this is why a great and clear mind loves ardently and sees distinctly what he loves.” - Blaise Pascal

The last week or so has been a bit rollercoastery, though somehow at the moment I feel incredibly calm. I spent some time looking through old emails, which always brings on a weird sense of nostalgia, pain, confusion, identification with a former self who was so vulnerable and afraid... I realized how much stronger and happier I am now, and I am so thankful that I've had the opportunity to gain this sense of stability. It's still somewhat strange to read emails in which I was so desperate, so weak, so sad, so dependent on other people, and to identify with that girl as if I were reading a novel about a character I had never met before. I suppose everyone goes through their late adolescent struggles, their insecure times, but the contrast is just so huge at this point, I can barely remember what it felt like to be so unsure about everything and everyone around me. Oddly enough, I started feeling a strange yearning for those days, even though they were so unhealthy and confused. Maybe there was a certain comfort to the unknown, even as it terrified me. I didn't have to make any decisions, as long as I kept myself paralyzed. At least now I know the joy that comes with security, and with clarity. Not that anything is truly solid - things can change in an instant. But still, it's nice to be able to know myself this well. More on that in a moment.

I went to Tzfat for Shabbat with a few friends of mine, right after I had read all of those depressing emails. It was a nice breather. The mountains have this effect of washing away latent pain, especially on Shabbat, when this blanket of calm descends and the only sounds you hear are families singing together. (I can't wait for my family to sing together again...) There's an ancient cemetery there, still in operation, with some of the great kabbalists' graves. It's on the side of a mountain, so it's a pretty gorgeous place. We went to that, and my friends said some Tehillim (psalms) next to a few graves while I stood and looked out at the world. It was beautiful. Cemeteries are not the place to go have a good time, (contrary to those weirdos who like to frequent them for kicks...coughMomcough...:)) but they do help with the whole perspective thing.

I have some thoughts to write out, and this blog will have to do. I've tried journaling, but theres something about public writing that I like better. Maybe it just forces me to try and make sense. Who knows. Anyway, if you're among those who just want to know what I've been up to, stop reading here.

It feels like these days, life is so much about the future. I'm in this transition moment, where the decisions I make will determine the rest of my life. And not in the way they tried to make me believe was the case when I was applying to college, and not in the way I felt when I was studying for finals. This time, it's in a very, very real way. I'm here, on the cusp, ready and waiting to move forward. But there are so many things to consider, so many people involved, so many ways I could affect myself and others. I used to feel overwhelmed by that. Now, I feel almost empowered. I feel like this responsibility, this pressure to know who I am and who I want to be, to be for myself but not only for myself, to be the greatest possible me I can, is the most invigorating pressure there is. It all depends on perspective. If I cringe in fear, if I become paralyzed by the what ifs, and the collective voices surrounding me telling me what to do and where to go and who to be, I can only fail. But if I recognize the freedom I have to be my own person, as well as the freedom others have as well, and that in the end, there are no wrong paths, then I can only feel happy and excited about the position I find myself in. That doesn't mean it's not nerve wracking. But it's like the feeling you get before playing the big game, rather than the feeling you get before tight roping over a pit of fire. I know I can and will succeed. I know that if I fail in minor ways along the way, that's not what will matter in the end. I know my future is bright, and that the hard times that feel like stumbling blocks are precisely the times when I will know myself best, when the strength I have built within myself will truly come through and bring me to a better place than I was in before, or than I would have been without that challenge. I know I'm speaking somewhat ambiguously here, but anyone who knows me well can apply these words to practical considerations. Anyone who doesn't, hopefully they can ring true for you in some other way.

There's a question as to whether it is best to live in the moment, or live towards a future goal. I think the answer is neither, and both. It depends. Sometimes the best thing of all is to live day by day, doing what feels best right then, taking what you need from life. And sometimes the best thing is to look beyond yourself, your current station in life, and consider, am I the best I can be? It's different for each person, and its different in each stage of growth and in each situation. At the moment, I do have that future vision in mind. I know I can keep growing, keep becoming this person I am learning to love so much, and keep striving towards my goals and dreams. By tomorrow I may have to live day by day again to get my bearings back. And that's fine, and I'd welcome that challenge, maybe even appreciate the breathing room it affords. I guess it's just a matter of awareness. No one else can tell you which way is best. We all just have to know our needs, and live accordingly. Not try to force ourselves into some paradigm another person lives by or lays out for us, not try to become someone or something we are not. Of course the only way to be true to oneself is to know who oneself is...but I'm going in circles now.

We just had an amazing class about the song that the Jews sang as they left Egypt. More specifically, we learned about what song is, what Shira means. I've written about my name before, but at the moment I'm loving it even more. We learned that at the moment after the splitting of the sea, the Jewish people had complete and total clarity: and that's precisely the moment when they broke out in song, in Shira. Song comes when we are feeling such joy that we can no longer contain ourselves, and Rashi says that their song came directly from their hearts, because when you are truly happy, your heart (your deepest emotional center,) can be heard loudest. And when are we most happy? When we are sure of ourselves. When we are free from doubt. When the fog clears, and the waters split, and the answers are staring us in the face. It's rare to have moments like that in life - I've felt it a couple of times lately, and it certainly does make me want to sing. But usually we are in that fog, and we are in the sea, and we are confused and unsure and doubtful. That doesn't have to be a sad time, but certainly the moment when you come out of it feels that much more refreshing and incredible. So that's when Shira comes in. And that's my name, and I think that's pretty cool. I wish for all of you that you have moments of clarity in life, when everything around you fits, and when you don't have to doubt yourself, even a little bit. I wish myself that, too. But we're not going to all get those miracles, those moments when everything is just revealed from on high or from within or from wherever you believe it may come from. I'm sure many people reading this don't even think those moments really exist. But for those who do, I think we have to find it for ourselves. We have to give ourselves the space we need, and recognize when we need it. We have to believe in ourselves enough to know that the doubt can and will be temporary, and the difficult choices can and will be made, and we can know ourselves completely, if only we make the effort to do so.

Anyway I've typed a lot, and I'm sure many who read this will just write it off as wishy washy or something like that. I'm fine with that. I just wanted to get it out.

Also, I'd like to make a plea for everyone to pray for the well-being of my laptop. It has contracted some sort of disease, and has been in the ICU for the past couple of days. The doctors say it doesn't look good, but I still have faith.

Loveeee you all.

Love, shira

PS I opened up comments again. Go carazy.