Reverse Culture Shock

Wow, has it really been this long since my last post? Yikes. Sorry about that, and thanks to everyone who emailed me to complain about it. It's nice to feel loved.

Well, a lot has happened since then. Yes, my computer is still dead, despite sending it back to HP for repairs. But I've gotten along without it, somehow. Oh, yeah, and I'm back in the states.

WHAT?!?! Did she say she's back in the states?? Yep. Yep, I did. Allow me to explain.

I'm not done with Israel yet, by any means. I probably never will be. I've formed a bond with that country that is difficult to explain, but to which I'm sure many can relate. In a more immediate sense, I plan on going back in May, at least until the end of the summer if all goes well. I came home because everybody needs a break, and I know people see this year as having been a break in itself, which is true in some senses, but not in others. Yes, it was a break from the rigamarole of society, the constant academic stress, the emphasis on success and achievement that followed me everywhere for so many years. A break from grades and GPA and honors and resumes and interviews and internships and all of life is focused on your career mentality. It was a break from being forced to involve myself in things that were not truly me, and a break from norms that never felt quite right. And in many senses, I still need that break, and am still on it, regardless of my geographical location.

But much as I have been taking that type of break for many months now, in other ways, I have been doing entirely the opposite. I feel like I am finally involved in my real life, rather than waiting around to begin it. I feel like I have spent the past several months really thinking, really finding myself, really involving myself in situations and conversations and activities and classes that make me feel real, make me feel like I am finding the true self that has been hidden for so long. And that's as far from a break as you can get. So I think I needed to come home because while that has been an exhilarating process, and one that of course is not finished yet and hopefully never will be, it can also get exhausting. While I managed to escape the pressures of Western society for a time, I found myself mired in a new type of pressure, an internal one that required me to try and find the best within me, and achieve that at all times. That's a good thing, but it can get tiring. Sometimes a girl just needs to sit on a couch with her family and watch a TV show (without analyzing whether the characters realize how empty and mundane their relationships are, and then laughing at how we turn everything into a deep discussion now. Ah, I miss Sem...:)).

Of course, now that I'm back, it's a pretty odd feeling. The culture shock has been interesting, to say the least. (Wikipedia: "Reverse Culture Shock (a.k.a. Re-entry Shock) - Returning to one's home culture after growing accustomed to a new one can produce the same effects as described above, which an affected person often finds more surprising and difficult to deal with as the original culture shock." So true.) People keep asking me what the main differences are between here and there. I think in general, the biggest difference has been the general higher consciousness people have, or at least choose to share with others. Back in Har Nof, which is a religious community that certainly doesn't represent all of Israel by any means, people always had deep things to say, talk about, and ponder. Life was about meaning, purpose, values. It wasn't a paradise or anything, and it's not like everyone there is a good person or a genius or something, I just mean that because of the religious sensibility, there was a palpable feeling that there is something more going on, something we all need to seek out. There was an understanding between people that each of us is on a journey, and are searching out our true selves, and our higher goals in life. Har Nof also happens to have several ba'al tshuva yeshivas and seminaries in it, so the town is like a religious college town, if you will. Families there are used to having students over for shabbat, and I of course spent months living with girls just like me, who were on the greatest "break" of their lives. So coming back to the states, and realizing that conversation here mostly revolves around Obama, the economy, and the latest Daily Show segment was a bit jarring. I don't think the people are any less deep or intelligent or thoughtful. It's just a cultural difference, a difference in what's expected out of casual conversation, and one that I hadn't considered. for example, I'll be sitting and talking with friends about what I've been up to, and while my mind is racing with spirituality and intensity and beauty, I keep having to respond to questions about how Israel is responding to the economic crisis. I don't mean to sound belittling by any means: of course the economy is an important topic, one that needs to be discussed and understood. And for people who have not spent the past several months delving into the topics I have been, there is no reason why they would be considering the same ideas. It's just different, that's all. Also, I can't bring up G-d around here. I never realized how taboo He is in this country, at least in the circles I am part of...which is kind of ironic I suppose. Or maybe not. Anyway, I feel like mentioning anything religious automatically labels me as some sort of crazed brainwashed fanatic or something, whereas in Israel, even in totally secular society, it's normal to consider these things, and find them inspiring and meaningful. Yes, there is a divide between religious and secular, but in general people are less afraid to believe in something, even if it's not the same exact thing. And so much of this is politics, anyway, which I've been thankfully avoiding for so long. So I'm a bit of a loner in that department as well.

Since I've been home, I've been in Chicago mostly, visiting Ezra. It's really nice to see him again, spend time with him. We've just been hanging out, making dinners, reading books together, learning a bit, talking a lot. We've been learning the Haggadah together in preparation for Pesach, and it's really cool to learn about all the stuff I've always taken for granted in there, like the weird passages about rabbis learning all night. It finally is starting to make some sense, which is cool. I also go to his office with him most days, where I can get a lot of work done (I still have that part time job with the SEO text writing. Pretty boring, but makes for good pocket money at least). We came back to NY unexpectedly last week because Ezra's grandmother passed away unfortunately, so I met up with a couple of friends, and also surprised my Dad. I hadn't told him I was coming home, basically because I knew how happy he would be to see me, and I really wanted to make that moment amazing. We had a really nice time, and I saw Cindy and Keri as well, which was great.

I'll be back in NYC on April 2nd, and I'll be there over Pesach, after which I'll be in Maryland for about a week, and then in Boston for a weekend, and then I guess back to Brooklyn for a while. I'm pretty excited to cook and clean for Pesach. I know that sounds silly, but it makes me feel more adult to be able to take care of those kinds of things. I learned a lot living in Israel, not least of which being how to be much more independent than ever before. You'd think four years of college would do the trick, but take-out food, movies on demand, and high speed internet leave you a lot more dependent than you realize. In Israel I actually cooked dinner every night, I had to occupy myself with things other than TV and internet for the most part, and I learned to be a real person. It was nice. And I guess I'm just excited to use those skills back home. As for my plans now...I guess I just want to figure out what's next. I've already sent out a few job applications and resumes to a couple of elementary schools in Brooklyn (I'm back on an education kick now. Where will she end up next?) and I'll be looking into masters programs soon as well. I want to work for a few months at least before I decide what degree to get, but I'm leaning towards education (maybe Jewish) and social work. Maybe counseling. We'll see what happens.

I realized I never wrote about Purim on here. I sent out an email to some people about it, but not about what the actual day was like. Basically, it was incredible. EVERYONE dresses up. And while in some parts of Israel it ends up being a bit more like Halloween in terms of the debauchery and excuse to wear the sluttiest outfit imaginable, in others, it's much better than that. Sure, people get drunk, run amok, act a bit crazy. But the difference is in the underlying meaning of it I guess - people realize there's a reason for it all. Also, everyone is walking around all day visiting each other with Mishloach Manot (gifts, food, candy), which also looks a lot like Halloween, but instead of going door to door to take treats, people are giving to one another. I really liked that. It just felt great to have a whole day about giving, and it was also hilarious to see all the crazy costumes. I took some cute pics of kids dressed up, but my camera chord is being weird right now. I'll try to post things to facebook. Also, I ended up dressing up as 5 different things this year: a burglar, a blueberry, a blessing in disguise, a rainbow, and Baby Spice. Adar was basically incredible, full of happiness and fun. I've never really felt that here in the states, and while Purim is always a good time, its a whole different ball game over there. The whole month is one big party, and not the kind you want to leave early from.

Anyway, I've typed a lot, and while I have more to say, I think I need to go start getting ready for Shabbat. Ez and I are going to spend it at by a Rabbi whose family Ez has gotten pretty close with lately, so I'm excited for that. I'll write more soon, as I have a lot on my mind. All in all, it's great to be back, and I can't wait to see everyone, catch up, and prove to you all that I haven't gone crazy. :)

Shabbat Shalom!

Love, Shira

“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.

“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.

Update, Shmupdate

Looks like this thing is turning into more of a monthly venture...hope that's alright with everyone. It's not that I don't have the time, I think it's more that I just get lazy. All day long I'm packing information into my head, discussing, learning, grappling, reading, writing...and then I come home and all I want to do is eat dinner, watch TV, and fall asleep. I'm actually typing this during one of my morning classes, since we have a sub who I don't particularly like. Anyway, I feel like I'll end up having a lot to say, so I'll try and break this down into sections for ya.

The Rest of Ezra's Visit:

Ez had a really great time here, I think. He was learning at a Yeshiva here in Har Nof, and enjoyed that, for the most part. We had a great time together while he was here – had a couple of great dinners, (apparently I'm not cut out for Brazilian steakhouses...uh oh,) went to a couple of cool classes together (one about the kabbalistic meaning of music, and another about science and Torah with Gerald Schroeder, everyone's favorite MIT-educated biology and physics professor,) and just caught up in general with one another. If anyone's interested in his reactions to being here, you can check out his blog – he's a really great writer, and he details some of his thoughts on Yeshiva, and the Gaza war there. Let me know if you want the link. We also had a really nice New Years, which is definitely not the same kind of night in Jerusalem as it is in the rest of the world, especially during a war. We went to the music class, then I had dinner with a friend of mine, and we met up later at the lobby of the King David hotel (where I took my first steps!) and had some drinks with some of his friends who were visiting with their family. At one point, we were all just talking about random things, and someone quietly mentioned, "hey guys, it's 2009." Heh. It was cute. New Years has never really been my thing, so I definitely liked that. The war broke out while he was here, and his Yeshiva actually forbade them from going to public places, even threatening them with expulsion if they were caught there, which is interesting since my Seminary treated us a bit more like adults – they told us that we could make our own decisions, but that they advised against it. I'll get into that more in the Gaza part.

The Gaza Part:

I reallllllllllllllllly don't want to write too much about this, for the following reasons: 1. I don't want to get too political (my mantra lately,) 2. Once I start talking, I will probably get political, as well as worked up and upset and all the rest, and 3. You're probably somewhat sick of hearing about it. Although maybe not – maybe in America, this isn't spoken about every other minute of the day. But it is here. Anyway, I'll give you the parts you might be interested in, which is what it's like here, and what my non-political thoughts are.

Honestly, Jerusalem is exactly the same, except for a couple of extra police cars here and there. I've been staying away from public places mostly, and avoiding busses, but even that feels somewhat excessive to be honest. Last week an air-raid siren went off by mistake, and that freaked me out, but I actually think it was a good thing that happened, it gave us all the tiniest taste of what it's like in Sderot and other Southern cities, who hear those sirens multiple times a day and have 15 seconds to reach shelter. Of course everyone is talking about the war, and we are updated every day on the news, so it's on all our minds. Even now, after both sides have announced cease-fires, it feels no different since both sides are pretty much poised at the trigger still, and probably always will be.

I've been reading the news online everyday, from multiple sources to get a feel for what different media groups have to say. Sometimes it's downright infuriating, (both in terms of what's actually happening as well as the outright bias in certain newspapers....not getting political....) and often just sad. We had a whole class about the importance of feeling others' pain, focused on the current situation. We learned that we are meant to have two reactions to pain in the world: intellectual, and emotional. (Obviously it's not as black and white as that, but just for the purposes of breaking it down to analyze them, bear with me.) The "intellectual" reaction is one where we notice an injustice, and we try to react in ways that could stop it: we fight, we lobby, we send aid, we pray. But the "emotional" reaction is required – yes, required – of us, as well. This is a reaction that should come from someplace deep inside, someplace where it will hurt and affect us, even if we think or know there is nothing we can do to help.

We learn this idea, of feeling others' pain inside ourselves from a non-intellectual place, from Noach and Avraham: The flood was called the "flood of Noach," and the sages asked why it was named after him, if he was the hero of the story. Isn't that kind of a damning legacy? Why not the "flood of evil," or the "salvation of Noach"? The answer is because Noach did not cry out over the suffering of his generation, and try to save them all. But there's a question on this – as we know from Avraham later on, a group of people is only worth saving if there are at least 10 righteous people among them, which there were not in Noach's generation. So why should he cry out, if he knows there's no possible way they can be saved? And that's exactly the point: he should have felt their pain so much that he would have had to cry out, even though he knew there was no possible way he could save them. His cries should have come from that deep place where logic and reason don't matter, where the suffering of others is so real, so unbearable, that it would have been impossible for him not to cry out. The fact that he did not do so means that he did not feel their pain enough. And notice: Noach came before the Jewish people existed. This does not apply to only Jews, or only ones family, or only those one knows. This applies to ALL people – from the children in Sderot sleeping in bomb shelters to the innocent Gazans caught between cross-fires. I may not be able to do much to help, but I can at least do this – I can at least feel their pain, in real ways, every single day. And I do – I see the pictures, I read the testimonies, I receive updates from Neve Chana, the children's home I volunteered at a few summers ago, which remind me that these beautiful children who I knew personally, who I cooked lunch for and taught English to and went on trips with, are afraid for their lives every single day, and I literally feel my stomach turn. I learn from Noach's mistakes, and I realize that even though the situation feels futile, even though my prayers may not be answered, and diplomacy may not work, and war may not help, and in the end the whole world may hate Israel even more than they did before, even though all of that may be true – I still need to feel that pain. I can't run from it, or pretend it's not there, or go on about my day as if the suffering a couple of hours away from me is not happening. Of course, this applies to all of us, every single day, since there are constantly millions of people suffering all over the world. Being human, it's harder for us to connect to those who are different or far away from us. But we are told that Noach should have felt the pain of his entire generation – that means thousands of people he never met. So too should we feel the pain of our entire generation, our entire world.

I just want the suffering to end, whichever way that has to happen. I'm not a military strategist, or a political analyst, so I can't pretend to know whether war or diplomacy can accomplish this. I'm just a young woman who feels the suffering of other human beings in very real ways, and is willing to cry out in pain over that, every single day. So that's all I have to say about that.

(Now that I've waxed poetic, I'll give you a tiny bit of politics. Here's a quick list of things that infuriated me about this war, aside from the suffering: terrorist groups being legitimized as government organizations; any and all comparisons to the Holocaust; the world not noticing or caring too much about the rockets being shot into Israel every single day; the double-standard applied to the Israeli army [any other country would be allowed to defend itself without a constant barrage of criticism]; the clips of children in Gaza being taught to martyr themselves [see pmw.org]; Hamas forcing innocent people to act as their shields and talking-points. There ya go. I'll just quickly add that I know the IDF is not perfect, I'm sure they made mistakes, maybe even big ones. I think even they are willing to admit that. But I do believe they tried the best they could to minimize collateral damage and civilian deaths, and I think the allegations that they specifically targeted innocent people rather than Hamas are absolutely ridiculous. K, I'm done. Don't respond to this part, I don't want to get into debates. It's in parenthesis for a reason. It's parenthetical.)

What else I've been up to:

I've actually had a pretty eventful few weeks. Here are a few of the things I've been up to.

• Trip to the Negev: My school took us on a trip down south (don't worry, no where near Gaza,) to the Dead Sea. We went on a few hikes, and saw some gorgeous views. I spent a lot of time walking by myself among the mountains, and it was really breathtaking. I can try and post some pictures, though it usually doesn't work too well. There are some posted of me on Facebook, though, so you can check that out. I've been there several times, but every time it's incredible. There's something about desert mountains, the desert sky and sun, that just force you to introspect and marvel. Many say that's why the Jews were made to wander in a desert for 40 years – it's where they could feel closest to G-d, and to their true selves. I really felt that there.
  
• Ushpizin: There's a really great Israeli film called Ushpizin (Aramaic for "guests") which I'm sure many of you have seen, about a very poor religious couple who are given $1,000 dollars through charity, and end up running into a bunch of troubles involving a couple of misbehaved guests over the holiday of Succot. It's a really amazing movie, and gives a unique look into one type of religious lifestyle and thought. Anyway, last week we went to a screening of it, after which we met the actors who played the two main characters, and who also wrote the script. They are married in real life, and their lives are pretty similar to what's portrayed in the movie, they said. They were really cool people, very down to earth, very talkative, and absolutely hilarious. They described the effect the movie has had, how the religious and secular worlds reacted to it, and what their goals were in creating it. It's pretty rare in the Charedi world for someone to become a famous actor/screenwriter, so that aspect was particularly interesting to me. Also, they described some of the ways in which the movie has helped to bridge some of the gaps between secular and religious circles. Neato.
  
• Yad Vashem: January 6^th was the 10^th of Tevet in the Jewish calendar, which is a fast day, meant to commemorate the beginning of the siege on Jerusalem way back when the Temple was destroyed. But the Rabbis have instituted that we use that day to commemorate the Holocaust, as well. (Interestingly, Israel also instituted a Holocaust Remembrance Day, which is on April 21^st this year, the only problem being that it always falls out in the Hebrew month of Nissan, when we are apparently not allowed to be in mourning, according to Jewish law. So that's why religious circles use the 10^th of Tevet.) Anyway, in honor of that, we had a week of programming related to Holocaust remembrance, part of which involved going to Yad Vashem, Israel's Holocaust museum. I've been there several times now, but each time is different, you go in with a different mindset, different perspective, and you notice different things. Also, this time we had a religious tour guide, who was emphasizing religious issues during the Holocaust as she gave the tour. This was fascinating, since things like that are often skipped on the usual tours there. For instance, I never thought about the fact that there was no Mikvah (ritual bath) in the ghettos, and religious women would not get married without that, nor would religious couples be able to sleep together/have children. Obviously the fact that they were starving and suffering precluded these as well, but just the psychological effect of a detail like that is something I had never considered. Another interesting part was a video I had never stopped to watch before, of a religious survivor talking about how they kept Shabbat in the ghetto – you are supposed to have meat and fish on Shabbat, so he said his mother would take one potato and designate it as the "fish" and the another potato was the "meat." He said that those potatoes were the best food he had all week, and the time he spent learning for a couple of hours each Saturday with his father were the only times he could actually forget about the fact that they were living in a hell on earth. Pretty intense. The next day, a survivor came and spoke to us about her experiences, and she was incredibly eloquent and captivating. Her story was very moving and terrifying, and yet so full of hope. No matter how many times I hear a survivor speak about their experiences, I always learn something new or feel something intense that I never felt before. There are hardly any survivors left now, and soon it will be up to my generation to try and pass on this message to our kids...I guess I just feel like without these first hand accounts, it will be impossible for them to really feel it, just like it's impossible for any of us to feel what our parents and grandparents did. Anyway, all of this happened right around when the Gaza war broke out, which is part of why I have been so bothered by all the Holocaust references and comparisons in Gaza. It just in no way compares, and every time it's mentioned in that kind of context, it is cheapened and forgotten, even if just a bit.
  
• Yoga: My friend Erika is a professional Yoga instructor, so she's started giving Yoga classes in her apartment every week. I've been going, and it's amazing. Of course my body aches for days afterwards, but it's definitely worth it. Sometimes its easy to get so caught up in learning that I forget to take care of my physical needs, like eating right and exercising. I'm trying to get back into that again, and Yoga is definitely helping. Also I've been cooking a lot. Yay health! Now to work on sleeping more....ha.
  
• Birthdays: Happy birthdays to my mom and Keri! Yay post-birthday shout-outs!
  
• Anniversary: January 14^th marked 2 official years that I've been going out with Ezra...just wanted to mention it here so I could publicly thank him for my gorgeous new ring, (the stone is the same color as his eyes :)) as well as the chocolates and sushi and poems. I love you! :)
  

Arightey, I think that's enough of an update for now. The weather has been beautiful, Shabbats have been relaxing and fulfilling as always, and the learning is ever more interesting and satisfying. I miss you all.

Love, Shira

New Beginnings

Finally, something exciting to report!! As any of you who are reading this blog probably already know, my brother, David, just got engaged to his girlfriend, (fiancée!) Danielle! VERY exciting news. Danielle has already felt like a sister to me for the past few years, and now we will officially be family! I remember back at my sister Missy’s wedding, when I and my siblings were making guesses as to the order in which we would all get married. David kept saying he’d be last...and I believe my guess was: David, Keri, me, Blake. What can I say, I’m old fashioned, birth order makes the most sense to me. I wonder if we put money on that...if so, you owe my money, bro. I’d also like to point out that he proposed to her in a b&b Vermont, on their “non-romantic” get-away, as he insisted before they left. What a trickster, that one. Anyway, Mazal Tov to both of you, and may you spend the rest of your lives building a beautiful home and family together, growing ever closer and wiser and giving and loving toward one another. Aaaaamen.

Well, now I have even more of an excuse to come home at some point...I wanna help plan the wedding! Still, I’ve been thinking lately that I want to try and stay here through Pesach....maybe even Purim, since I hear that’s the best party here. I guess we’ll see how I’m feeling in a month from now. Also, my closest friend here will be leaving at the end of February, so that’ll probably have an effect on things. I tend to get really close with one or two people when I’m in new settings, and then just spend time nurturing those relationships, so when she leaves, it’ll be pretty tough on me. But that’s alright, I have a bunch of other friends here, and the country itself is enough to keep me wanting more of it (even though right now, the cold rainy weather is kind of bothersome. But not really since it’s much-needed water, which we have to be incredibly thankful for every time it rains, considering Israel has been in a draught for three years. My friend walked into school today, and said, “ugh it’s so gross out there!” and the school’s receptionist immediately responded, “Baruch Hashem!” Ha. Love that mentality. Go Israel.)

Ezra has been here for a few days, now. It’s been really great to see him and spend time with him again. We were both kind of nervous about it, having not seen each other for almost four months, but everything feels really good and natural still, which is wonderful. We had dinner a couple of times together, and caught up on things a bit. I gave him a Chanukiah that I made for him for Chanukah, which he likes a lot. Then he went off to his Yeshivalite program, which is basically 2 weeks of learning, here in Har Nof. So I haven’t seen him since a couple of days ago, though on the phone he sounds like he’s enjoying it mostly. Things feel really great with that right now, and I still can’t get over how incredible it is that he came here at all.

Chanukah has been amazing so far. It really is so beautiful here in Israel. Just walking down the street, seeing lit Chanukiot in every window...I get all emotional just looking at them. I thought maybe this is how Christians feel in America, seeing Christmas decorations everywhere...but I’m not sure it’s quite the same. I guess I wouldn’t really know, but now that I’ve learned all the deeper meanings behind the lights and what they mean and what the whole holiday symbolizes, I feel such a deep and intense connection to it, more than I ever have before. One of my favorite teachers likes to remind us often that there is no such thing as symbolism in Judaism. We don’t do anything as a “ritual” or to “remember” something. The things we do: the candles we light, the songs we sing, the blessings we make, they are not symbols, but rather living realities. Each time we do them we are bringing more of that reality into ourselves, our lives, and our worlds. We are re-inspiring ourselves with that same light that’s been burning in the windows and the hearts of our families for millennia. Our candles don’t “represent” the light from the Beit Hamikdash, the Holy Temple. They are that light, in a very real, tangible way. The energy has lived on, and will continue to until the very end. We learned that in the Temple, they had to re-build the Menorah every single day – the high priest had to actually remove the tops of the branches, clean out the oil, and replace them again each and every morning, effectively building a brand new menorah each time. This is considered strange, since we are told that the loaves of bread stayed fresh for a week miraculously, and that the special aromatic spices only needed to be changed once a year. So why didn’t we just get miraculously clean oil every day? Because this way, the light would always feel new and energetic. It was to teach us that just as the menorah is rebuilt and rejuvenated each day, so too we must do that with ourselves, keep each new day exciting and fresh for ourselves. I just find that so beautiful, and when I look in those windows, and see hundreds of Chanukiot lit each night as I pass by building after building on the bus ride to wherever I am heading, I think of that energy, and how we are all connected, and how we all still have that light, no matter how religious we are, or what we believe in, we still light those candles, and still feel that warm glowing inexplicable energy between us each night of Chanukah. Sorry to get all mushy on you. I guess I’ve been feeling pretty inspired by it all. I haven’t gotten any “presents” over Chanukah this year, (other than a really awesome melodic phone call from my Dad, and Ezra being here, which is a pretty big one, and of course, a whole new sister!! So actually, I have gotten some pretty sweet gifts, and I’ve still got three more nights!) and yet it’s been probably the best Chanukah I’ve ever had. Who needs more stuff when you’ve got this yummy internal warmth invigorating your every moment and relationship? Needless to say, I feel really, really good.

I also wanted to write a little bit about something we did yesterday at school that I think really shows what a great learning environment I am in. One of my good friends here’s grandmother just passed away over last Shabbat back in New York, and her parents already were planning on coming here to visit, so when that happened, her mother decided to come a few days earlier, right after the funeral. Since she is not religious, she chose not to sit shiva for her mother, since she felt it would help her more to be here with her daughter, anyway. This is her first time in Israel, and her first real glimpse into this world that her daughter has found so much happiness in. So the head of my school, Rebbetzin Pavlov, turned her mother’s visit into something neither she, nor any of us, will ever forget. She offered her a chance to sit shiva for her mother, just for a day while she’s here, in the Pavlovs’ living room (they live right above the school), and the whole school took turns going up and sitting with her. Rebbetzin Pavlov also gave a shiur right there in her living room to all of us, as well as to her, about the Jewish view of death and mourning, and the purpose of shiva, and just general comforting and inspiring words. Since most of the girls in the school come from completely secular homes, many of them had never been to a shiva before, nor did they know what it was even all about. Even I, who grew up in modern orthodox surroundings and have been to several shivas, have never actually been taught about it in a straightforward way: why we do what we do, say what we do, act like we do. So really, it was an incredible learning opportunity for all of us, as well as an immense gift to her mother, who kept saying over and over again how much she appreciated it, and felt so grateful to all of us and to the school for doing that for her. She had never met any of us before, had never been in Israel before, and certainly not in a religious setting like this one before, and here we were, treating her like family, and insisting that as a Jewish woman, she truly is part of our family. Rebbetzin Pavlov even said in her lesson, “we are not here to comfort a stranger. We are here to comfort our cousin, our aunt, our sister, our mother. And that is what any shiva is really about.” It was really incredibly moving, and I learned so much today, both philosophically and practically. By the end of the day, every single student and staff member had gone upstairs to be with my friend’s mother, and talk with her, and hear about what her grandmother had been like. I think this is a huge credit to my school, and really shows what kind of an institution it is. We don’t just learn abstract ideas; we learn about life, about relationships, about how to treat those you love as well as those you’ve never met before, and we learn to really put those concepts into action.

So, there you have it. Marriage and mourning, all in one blog post. What will she come up with next?

Shabbat Shalom, everyone! Happy Chanukah!

Love, Shira

PS AHHHHH DAVID AND DANIELLE ARE ENGAGED!!!!!

P.S.

"J" = :)

Apparently when I type my blog in word and then publish it directly from there, it thinks all my smiley faces are Js.

Maybe J is just an inherently happy letter?

Anyways. Keep that in mind. :)

S

Nobody Likes a Blog Slacker

Hey all,

 

I knowwww I suck, I haven't written in about a month. I'd say it's just because I've been really busy, which I have been, but that's not really the reason, since I'm not significantly busier than I was before. I think that I've just been feeling a lot more involved with things here, and concentrated on stuff, that I haven't really felt the need to sit down and write things out. Not sure if that's a good or a bad thing, but so it goes. I actually have been writing a lot more than usual, but not fun writing, more work-writing. My boss is giving me more work to do, so that's cool, and I'm learning a lot about SEO writing, which is good for my resume, but it also means I spend a lot of my off-time at the computer typing, so that's probably also why I'm not as good about blogging. Anyways, here's an update:

Still learning, still growing, still happy. That's basically it, in a nutshell. I know, not too exciting, update-wise, but I guess I kind of like that nothing too crazy has happened. It's nice to have some routine, some regularity. I got through times when I'm not as into things, but then I always encounter some really inspiring class, or a really interesting person, or a really deep experience, right when I need another push to get excited again. For instance, my favorite Rabbi just started teaching again in the Old City, so I've been going ot his classes at night with a few friends, and I learned some really incredible stuff there about Shabbat and Chanukah. Unfortunately, he's switching the class to the middle of the day, which is when I'm in school, so I can't go anymore. But that's ok, I got the reinvigoration that I needed, and that's enough for me.

Chanukah is this week! That's exciting. I really love this holiday. I used to always enjoy my family's Chanukah parties so much when I was little....I remember the smell of the latkes cooking in the kitchen, and playing dreidel with my cousins in the living room, and singing songs and lighting candles, and of course, getting presents. There's a song called Maotzor, and in it there's a line that goes "v'shir mizmor," and my Dad would always change it to "v'Shira mizmor," and for some reason that always made me feel really special. I'll miss that this year. Maybe you can call and sing it to me, Dad. And my mom had this tradition every year of giving me 8 little presents every day of Chanukah, so that every day was another surprise. So I always associated Chanukah with happy family times. Of course, like I outlined in my G-d post a little while ago, in high school Chanukah came to represent something a bit depressing for me, which was my loss of belief in miracles and in G-d himself. So that sucked for a while. But now that I'm here and learning such incredibly deep concepts and philosophies about the holiday, it's back to being one of my favorites, if not my favorite of all. It's definitely a lot deeper than a happy singing time where you get presents, and there's more to it than I ever would have realized. I love things like that, which are great both on the surface as well as much deeper. Even the name "Chanukah" has som really interesting meanings and depth to it (no, it doesn't mean "festival of lights". It actually means "dedication." If you're interested in the deeper stuff let me know, I'll email you about it, it's pretty neat.) Sooo yeah I'm really excited for it now. We made chanukiot in school (that's the technical term for the menorahs we light – "menorah" actually only refers to the one in the temple, which only had 7 branches, not 8. Sorry if this kind of thing is repetitive to all my Ramazy friends ;)) and mine is very simple, but I like it that way. It's 8 clay jugs on a plain wooden board. I figured I'd buy pretty candles and let the light be the exciting part. And since this year I'm living with a bunch of girls who are also very into the holiday, we're gona have a great time every night singing together and playing dreidel. We also are having a Chanukah party Monday night, so that'll be cool. Not the same as being home with all my cousins, but cool nonetheless. ALSO Ezra is coming, so that'll be even more of a reason why Chanukah will be awesome this year. Sooo yay! Happy Chanukah!

What else. I spent this Shabbat in Nachlaot, which is where I was that time when I wrote that whole post about how great a Shabbat I had. Friday night was....interesting. My friend Alisa and I ate by a family who we had never met, and they always invite a ton of people for Friday night. The table was full of random, interesting people, and it made for some slightly odd conversation. One guy came in wearing a tee shirt with Arabic writing on it, so I asked him what it said. He said, in an accent I couldn't recognize: "it says, 'Am I the overpopulation?'" (he wasn't Arab, btw.) So some really outspoken and rude lady responds, "yes, they are. Now you know my opinion on the subject." Soooo there was nervous laughter all around. Then someone asked him where he was from, and he responded, "Palestine." So that same lady pretty much lost it at that point, and started yelling at him, "This is a Jewish Shabbat table! Don't bring that kind of talk in here! There is no such thing as Palestine!" So the rest of us were like....eep. Calm down. Not helping. So the host took the guy and the lady outside to talk to them privately, and then they both came back, him not wearing the tee shirt (he had a long sleeve shirt under it,) and her looking all huffed up like she had just been reprimanded by the Kindergarten teacher. Anyway the rest of the meal went pretty smoothly until we went around doing introductions, and he said: "Holy brothers, I am here finding life. I was born to mother Earth. I intend to study in a Buddhist monastery and then move to Japan." Hm. Interesting. So someone asks, "why Japan?" and he says, "To find my wife there. I find that Japanese women have a grace about them. I would like my wife to be Japanese." Nervous chuckles again, but then we realized he wasn't kidding. (the lady, meanwhile, looks like her head is about to blow up.) So we pressed him a bit, and he was totally serious. He's never been to Japan, but he is learning the language, so he will be able to speak to his future wife. He even came up to me and Alisa to ask us if we had any Japanese converts in our school that were unmarried. Sooooo yeah, I have no idea what his deal was, definitely a screw or two loose, and none of us even knew if he was Jewish (although he had been learning at Chabad in Italy for a little while, apparently, so we thought he was, but then when we asked him if he was looking for a Jewish Japanese woman, he said, "well, the Jewish don't always like this." So, no clue. Interesting, though. The rest of the guests were really cool, and our hosts were amazing, so it was actually a really nice time, aside from that realllly awkward moment at the beginning. I hate when politics comes up here...it always gets ugly. And when it's on Shabbat, it's even worse.

For lunch, we ate by my boss's family, where I was for Simchat Torah. That was great. They had a bunch of birthright people over, and they have a tradition that they go around the table and have everyone say something, either a word of Torah or just something inspirational they thought of or experienced that week. So Alisa and I said some stuff we had learned in classes, but the birthright crowd was just amazing, because they all spoke so much from the heart. They were talking about how beautiful it is to be in Israel, to be experiencing Shabbat for the first time in a real way, to be feeling so connected to their heritage, to be realizing that you can be "observant" and still be totally normal and cool. It was really amazing to hear them speak like that. One of them said he came from an Orthodox family, but that he totally rejected it because it was so rigid and unhappy for him, and for several years he has avoided anything Jewish at all costs, but that being here, he's realizing that he had put up all these blocks because of his childhood, and that really Judaism holds so much beauty that he wants to look into now, and find in his own way. I think it's pretty mature of someone to recognize that they had put blocks up to something, usually that's a pretty subconscious process, and one that most can never admit to. So being at this home, with these incredibly open and sweet and loving and environmentally conscious, and vegetarian (he thought you weren't allowed to be vegetarian for some reason,) hosts, who were not judging him in any way for how he was dressed or what he said or thought, he realized that you can really find you own way in Judaism, and you can be connected to your people in such beautiful ways as long as you find the right community and the right lifestyle for yourself. Sweet.

OH also, in shul this morning, there was a girl here from birthright whose parents never gave her a Hebrew name. So during services, the Rabbi officially gave her the Hebrew name she chose, (Tzipporah Tova,) and gave her a blessing, and then the whole shul sang and danced for her. It was really quite moving...I definitely teared up. Mom, you would've been bawling. J She was crying and everything, and it was just so amazing that this whole shul full of people who she's never met before were rejoicing for her. I love when people come together like that. Happens a lot here, despite what you might think. A name is a really important thing in Judaism, it's supposed to reflect a person's true essence. They said in Shul that the word for name is "Shem," and those letters also spell "Sham," which means "there." "There" means your destination, your goals. So, your name reflects your goals in life, the place you are always trying to get to, your deeper self. Hebrew names are really meaningful, since they are either Biblical, or they are combinations of words with real meaning. No one has a Hebrew name that has no meaning or is just a random combination of sounds; for instance, my name means song, or poem. I definitely feel connected to that, since I love to write. (when I was little I thought it meant I was a singer, but I've since learned that I don't have the most amazing voice in the whole world. Not the worst, either. But....not worthy of being named for it. J I do love to sing, though!) My second Hebrew name is Tamar, which means date (as in the fruit,) and is also a character in the Torah, who I always thought was pretty sketchy, but I've since learned that she was actually a really integral character, who did what she needed to do to get the right thing done, which is pretty cool. (The whole line of kings ended up being her descendents, and Mashiach is supposed to also come from that same line. So, much as her actions seemed sketch, it seems she was rewarded a thousand times over for dong what she had to do, since she wasn't afraid of embarrassing herself or lowering herself to do what she knew was right/what G-d told her to do. I still have my issues, but apparently my teachers here think she rocks.) Also, there's a line in prayers that goes, "tzaddikim c'tamar yifrachu" which means that the righteous people will blossom like date trees. So that's cool that date trees are compared to tzaddikim...I haven't gotten to ask about what the connection is, but maybe I'll find out and get back to you. Sooo that's my name. And I love it.

Hmm what else. I was reading an awesome book over Shabbat about a scientific theory that the whole universe is really a hologram. I didn't get too far into it, but I did learn about holograms and several ways they can be paralleled to the way the human brain works, which was interesting. I'm also reading "The Lonely Man of Faith" by Rav Solovaitchik, which is a philosophical essay that's probably way over my head, but I like to pretend I understand most of it. Also....I bought three new pairs of earrings for 20 shekels in the shuk on Friday....I got an email from Ramaz telling me that they lost 6 million bucks from their endowment to that bad bad Wall Street dude who was stealing everyone's investments (ohhh what a world,)...I bought all my friends here fuzzy socks for Chanukah....I went to Tel Aviv last week and met a bunch of really nice people my age, so that was a lot of fun, and we also stayed with a guy who is the head news correspondent for the Knesset, so he was really interesting to talk to....the charger for my computer broke so I had to order a new one which won't be here for 2 weeks so I have to borrow my friend's which is annoying but she's really nice so it's not such a big problem....anddd persimmons in Israel are REALLY yummy.

I think that about sums it up! I'm gonna go watch The Office with my roommates now.

I love you all, sorry again for being bad about posting. Feel free to email me anytime, I'm good with answering those. J

Love, Shira