Prayer of Ascent

Fifteen words of praise

Then fifteen words of blessing

We rise; Yishtabach

Guten Erev Shabbos

Wishing everyone a Shabbat Shalom. Thank you for reading and commenting and caring.

I'm presently in a city with no natural body of water in or around it. And yet, I have water on my brain. It so happens that this week my online poetry class is working on nature. Here's a poem that I've posted before that comes to mind:

It's Always The Lake
t
Shalom and Miri Shiri

Almost pass her by

Miri hears the water call
Quietly rippling, sparkling

d

Shalom hears his daughter

He takes her hand

She holds his love

They walk closer

Smiling together

u

Again, Shabbat Shalom to all. And G-d Bless.

P.S. Click here for a poetic Shoftim post.

I have lost
a good deal of
faithinwords

All water is holy
but there's nothing
like swimming
in holy waters
1c
G-d's breath is our air
but nothing competes
with sitting surrounded
by G-d's holy air

dcc

------------------------------

dcc

Keeping the rule

of not eating

pre morning prayer

seems wrong

when it feels like fasting

ccc

---------------------------------

cccc

I yearn for home

Then I approach

And it feels so

Comfortable

It hurts

ccc

What Was The Name Of Dorothy Parker's Dog?

For me
Israel is
Heaven on earth
Except that
it is never
a cliche'

Barcheinu Avinu Kulanu Ke'Echad

I try to reply to comments. Sometimes I fall behind. I think for the next week or more I will be posting less, at least I should be. Rosh HaShanah, the school year, the end of summer are knocking loudly. I apologize to those to whom I owe comments back. I love when the blog becomes a dialogue, just extra challenging right now. (Of course it's possible that I'll be back very soon with many posts and comments. "One never knows, do one.")

For some reason when put on the spot and ordered, "Tell me a vort - any vort," the first one that comes to mind is the one about this world being like a wedding hall but also being compared to darkness. The answer to this apparent contradiction is that the world is a beautiful place covered in darkness. Through leading a life of Torah we illuminate the true grandeur of the world. (I heard this from Rabbi Zevulun Charlap Shli"tah who cited someone else).

Wishing everyone well. Ketivah VeChatimah Tovah,

Rabbi Neil

Elegy / All of Our Lives

My poetry workshop assignment this week was to write an elegy:

before i tell you what

i'm going to tell you

i want you

to know

i'm cool with it:

i was laid off

i think i'm gonna teach

i said that when it happened

then i applied to revel

(i found devorah's-

that's our oldest daughter-

pictures all over

the brochure)

they gave me full scholarship

i told them

it's the only way

i could possibly do it

i'm taking three classes

the dean told me

i've been out of school

for a long time

that i've forgotten

how hard school is

and hey - you know what -

he was right

the girls don't say hello

excuse me but that's not right

but i think the biggest change

since i was there

is that y.u. has gotten affluent

everyone's got a cell phone

some people type everything

the teacher says in their lap top

while i'm sitting there going "doy"

and i was reading every word

of thousands of pages

i realized there's a way to do this

now i pick out the important parts

anyway

why don't i ever

see neil

at y.u.

he lives there

i wonder why i never see

him in the library

or on the street

getting a cookie

oh by the way

does everyone here know

that i'm dead

take it slow

aaron

BTW - All of Our Lives is a new book, which contains three of my poems. One of them is a short one about Aaron Bulman, which I think was selected over longer ones due to space and organization of topics. One of them is written under a pseudonym, but it doesn't say it's a pseudonym. It could have. I don't mind revealing which it is but it would be interesting to see if people guess. You'll have to buy the book, or borrow it, or decide if it's ethical to peruse it in a bookstore. I felt that my poem would be more powerful under a name that better fit the point of view of the piece.

Bang The Drum Slowly

Better done than perfect. So many perfect ideas were never done, while meanwhile, others jumped and did them imperfectly. Such an important idea to keep in mind. Other than G-d, I don't think perfect exists.

Ellul thought: When Nechamah Liebowitz was a little girl she brought her father his slippers and said that she was being extra good because it was the days between Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. Her father replied that he was more concerned with how she behaved between Yom Kippur and Ros HaShanah! (as told in Yael Unterman's Nechama Leibowitz: Teacher and Bible Scholar).

I'm still thinking about water. A friend just told me that the earth is 70 percent water and that people are also seventy percent water. Dovid HaMelech says that the land is placed upon the waters. It's like the earth is a giant ball of water with little pieces of land on top of it. It's fascinating that we're told about land being created, but not water. In the beginning there was G-d and water.

Helen H. Perlman, a prominent social worker, wrote, "Where there's friction there's warmth." I like that.

It's interesting how you read a book, hear an idea, meet a person, and form an impression - you get a vibe. In her introduction to her biography of Nechama, Yael Unterman says that she was never a student of Nechama directly. But she crossed paths with her on a few occasions and before putting out the book came across an old note in which she wrote to herself, "I like Nechama Leibowitz. She's so straight."

Time comes to show faith by lying down,

closing your eyes,

and letting Gd take you for the night.

~

It is not easy to take this trip,

it's scary,

but we must understand G-d is in this place.

~

"Real life" morphs into dreams

and not a moment is wasted

as we live out our undercurrents.

~

Everyone dreams,

like everyone lives,

but ah - how different are

our dreams and our lives.

~

Did I behave kindly today?

I hope so

zzzzzzzzzzz.

GNAGB

"Those three times of daily prayer

are the fruits of his day and night,

and the Sabbath is the fruit of the week,

because it has been appointed

to establish the connection with the Divine spirit

and to serve G-d in joy, not in sadness."

~

From The Kuzari, as cited in The Sachs Siddur

m

I haven't posted in question form in a while, have I?

What makes one a writer, being published, being read, or - wait for it - writing?

What exactly is a friend? Is platonic friendship possible?

What will losing weight get me? And then? And then? And then?

Will I get more used to Q.C.'s book? Could it be that I'm having a hard time getting used to her as a book author as opposed to a blogger?

Have you heard the pretty good Jukebox The Ghost?

Will I get through The Magicians even though it's fantasy?

Am I afraid of going to sleep at night and if so - why?

l

As a ceiling fan blows His breath

Upon me, rippling my diary pages

And He puts heavy sleep upon me

I write, "Good night and G-d bless."

Writing On Water

Thanks to two dear commenters I've edited the following tanka:

p

Before there was time

There was just G-d and water

What do we have now?

Along the shore, I breathe, watch

G-d's breath over the water

The poem was written while sitting at the shore. There's a song I like about the singer seeing Willy Mays at a Home Depot. I was disappointed to read that the song is fictional. I still like it. I love strong first person voices that I can relate to, whether they're fictional or real. And yet for I only only really write truths. When I write I'm at a shore watching the water, I am.

I wrote the following poem the first time I came to this place. I recently told someone about my discovering the walk along the water game. The reaction was one of disbelief - doesn't everyone know that game? There's got to be a first.

Walking alone along

a quiet shore

barefoot

Letting the water

surprise me

sometimes washing

over my feet,

sometimes reaching

my knees,

sometimes teasing

falling just short

A one and only

experience

just now

my first time.

I will say

no more

VeRuach Elokim Merachefet Al Pnei HaMayim

Here's another one by my friend's artist relative. I was mistaken in the previous post. They're both by Connie, first cousin once removed. What was that Robin Williams movie where he enters paintings?

---------------------------------

Before there was time

There was just G-d and water

What do we have now?

Taking time at the shore, I

Watch G-d's breath rock the waters

I struggled with the tanka above. I wrote it at the empty shore at about 7 A.M. I was torn between - "what do we have now" and "what do we have here." Originally it was didactic; "Take time at the shore and see/As G-d's breath rocks the waters." Another question is, should it be "see G-d's breath?" or is "watch" more appropriate (fits better with other w words). Also, should it be "G-d's breath?" or "G-d's wind?" And does "rock the waters" work?

HaMelech BaSadeh - ChodeshTov

Whenever Chazal - The Rabbis - warn us against something it means there is a natural inclination we need to be wary of. Rav Noach Weinberg ZT"L told me that there's a tendency to prefer leading foxes, which is why we're warned against it (and that I needed to be particularly careful about it). This idea applies to many words of wisdom of Chazal, e.g. not looking at the container but at what it has inside. I came across another such warning, while davening, which prompted this post, but now can't recall what it is...

-----------------------------------------------

I re-read something recently that I'd heard before and forgotten about (perhaps I forgot because it sounds so radical). It never says in the Torah that water was created. In the beginning the world was a mess of tohu vavohu and yet "the spirit of G-d rested on the face of the water." There is something extra holy about water, super connected to G-d. This is why we all seem to find water relaxing. This is why water is holy in every religion.

I truly wonder

of Jerusalem's water.

It is waterless.

Temples and altars for G-d,

But no body of water.

I face the Temple,

surrounded by holy air;

no water in sight.

We do not dive into air.

It's a polite immersion.

I need my Kotel,

but I also need my streams

and my waterfalls.

The Wall never falls on me.

My Nachal Arugot does.

---------------------------------------------

My friend Benjy pointed out to me via the Maharal that tikvah - hope related to the word kav, a straight line. Rav Moti Alon elaborates on this and says that when there are two points there is only one straight line that can be drawn between them. When we say we hope to G-d , it means that we draw that line, follow that dots, between G-d and us.

I think, in general, this idea of hope being a line is a meaningful one. Hope is when we see the starting line and the finish line between two points. This applies to our relationship with G-d ad also to our relationship with others. it also applies to our goals and to our relationship with ourself.

Food for thought this early Rosh Chodesh Ellul morning.

GNAGB

Here I am visiting with friends. This picture was snapped moments ago. Behind me is a fragment of a painting by my friend's late aunt who was a true artist.

Lately I have become more aware of various forces within me. I recently quoted from this same poem - a classic:

l

[

,./

l;,.,

n

Do I contradict myself?

Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

- Walt Whitman,

Each of Us Counts

"Count your blessings instead of your crosses;
Count your gains instead of your losses.
Count your joys instead of your woes;
Count your friends instead of your foes.
Count your smiles instead of your tears;
Count your courage instead of your fears.
Count your full years instead of your lean;
Count your kind deeds instead of your mean.
Count your health instead of your wealth;
Count on God instead of yourself."

Author: Unknown

Kind of Like Adam I & Adam II (click for link)

I saw citiFIELD

and started thinking of how

life has two aspects

those of cities, those of fields

Me, I'm a field boy

Good Night And G-d Bless

Here are some frequently asked questions and answers and comments (oh my) about the blog.

I'm still hoping to go to Israel before school starts. I just want to stand by the Kotel, everything else is gravy.
ooo
Raymond Carver wrote the best, and only, poem I know about gravy.

The other night on a whim I went to Steely Dan on their last of eight nights in NYC. They were good. Larry Carlton played with them the whole time, and I'm told he's a superhero guitar player - so that was cool. On the way out I passed a couple in their forties who were arguing about whether or not it was a good idea for her to have smoked pot (what kids today call weed). "You shouldn't have drawn attention to yourself by doing that!" the man said, just short of screaming, at the woman. I stared for a second and noticed that he was holding the Jewish Week under his arm. Suddenly all I could think about is, I wonder if he's read my articles? That, and the idea that once you put something in print...
0
I wondered aloud about pot in the adult Jewish community in a past post, thought it might prompt a discussion. It might have led to discussion, just not here. Once you put something in print...

Ian Anderson is doing an acoustic show right around my birthday. I'm thinking about going and thinking of who would be happy to go with me. I saw Jethro Tull at Madison Square Garden twice as a kid, and I think we've both grown and changed since then. He's been quoted saying that he's an acoustic kind of guy with friends who like to make a lot of noise. Those friends won't be there that night.
ij
I recall being a little kid in my grandparents' apartment, visiting on a Sunday, and seeing live news coverage about Woodstock. It was covered the way Katrina was covered. I think it might have actually been declared a natural disaster. It's fascinating how different a picture looks when time passes and you re-frame it.
on
Someone told me the other day that they were present when something was said, although for years their story was that they were not there. This is not the first time this has happened. This whole perception, memory thing is big for me. Sometimes negotiating with perceptions is difficult, bordering on impossible.

When I think of memory I think of To Kill A Mockingbird. A man is being framed and in defending himself contradicts one of the prominent community members who are putting him up. In response to his testimony the judge asks, "Are you suggesting he's lying?" The man responds, "No, I'm just saying he's mistaken in his mind." Wow.

Another book that helped me understand memory is The Book of Lights. I wrote about the epiphany that book provided here. Much more recently I wrote about the pros and cons of memories in this post that stands out for me. And here's one on school related memories and blogging and and and. There's one comment in this one that I've always wondered about. Sigh.
b

Greatness can only come through pain

Only may sound harsh, yet it seems so

Once upon a time I refused to call anything great

Dreams haunt me as I row my boat un-gently

New and old are relative, also relatives

I sigh, as I write this, seemingly without reason

Goodness is subjective, or is it?

Help is something we all need

Tonight, I hope I sleep well - and you too

nnn

And, and, and - is how life feels, on a quiet day

N is my letter; do others feel close to their name's letter?

Daily, I am grateful, as I struggle, even for the struggle

n

Going up? Hopefully.

Once upon a time I wrote once upon a time

Do; don't just think and feel - a memo to self

n

Being, as opposed to analyzing, it's hard to pull off

Laughter is a rare treasure, like a diamond

Every second counts, firsts count too

Soul mates are hard to find

So what do you do? Move forward.

HSP

Someone wise said memory is a function of forgetting, not of remembering (see the end of this post). Francie Nolan disagrees. When she reads a headline which simply says , "WAR", in her office, at her job as a reader/clipper, on April 6, 1917 announcing that was has broken out she decides that if she pays close attention she had hold on to the moment as a living thing and not something called a memory.

Francie imagines herself fifty years later telling her grandchildren abut this day. She hopes it will still be fresh and not the kind of stale reminiscence her grandmother shares. She feels the groove of her desk where her pencils rest, the shape of her pencils - one of which she shaves down to its next dot, the feel of her stockings, notices the diamond shape design on them, hears the sound of her desk closing, the clicking sound her purse made when she opened it, takes in the smell of its leather, studies the dates on the coins in her change purse, the ridges on her nail file, the way her comb is inflexible, the threads of her handkerchief and every detail of her and the moment that surrounded her. She puts the headline, along with her fingerprints made with the still wet ink of the word war, a mark made with her lipstick, a lock of her hair, inside an envelope and then into her purse.

"On the outside she wrote - 'Frances Nolan, age 15 years and 4 months, April 6, 1917.' She thought, 'If I open this envelope fifty years from now I will be again as I am now and there will be no being old for me. There's a long long time yet before fifty years, millions of hours in time, but one hour has gone already since I sat here, one hour less to live, one hour gone away from all the hours of my life.'"

Then she says a prayer, asking G-d that she live - one way or another, that she "be something" every living moment of her life. She requests that she dreams whenever she sleeps so no moment of her life is ever lost.

Included in her time capsule is a poem Francie clipped from a paper, written by a fellow Brooklyn writer. Can you name the poem/poet?

"I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,

Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,

Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,

Stuffed with the stuff that is coarse, and stuffed with the stuff that is fine"

m

Then she sees a headline on another paper, "WAR DECLARED," and weeps, even though (despite her co-workers' assumptions) she doesn't have a lover or brother in the army. Francie was 15. What a sensitive soul with a hard and beautiful life, lived and felt every minute.

--------------------------------------

It's Been Too Long

Until I Saw the Sea-

Until I saw the sea

I did not know

that wind

could wrinkle water so.

n

I never knew

that sun

could splinter a whole sea of blue.

p

Nor did I know before,

a sea breathes in and out

upon a shore.

;

---Lilian Moore

See: thoughts on re'eh

Rabbi Yaakov Luban asks why the mountains of Grizim and Eval were chosen for the macrocosmic blessing and the curse of the Jewish people. His original is that it has to do with their close proximity to Eilonei Mamrei/Shechem. It was in this area that Avraham took in guests after having his Brit Milah and was visited with G-d, and the seeds of the Jewish Nation were sowed. It was also in this vicinity that brothers sold a brother out, a mistake which would hurt the Jewish People in immeasurable ways for myriad years. These two mountains that represent the choice of blessing or curse remind us of the choices made by Avraham and The Brothers in the surrounding area. These were choices that may have seemed small at the start but that had enormous, long term consequences.
h

(For the piece this was adapted from, see here.)

m

It's really great to receive organic Torah emails from friends, as I did today:

t

"I heard a vort on the parsha at a meeting I was in yesterday and I thought of you: The first passuk in the parsha says that Hashem gives us bracha u'klala. The next psukim then delineate the bracha and the klala. So why the first passuk? This man at the meeting said that often things we see are both a bracha and a klala and it's up to us to determine what they'll be. There are so many examples like that. They're all lifneichem and it's up to us to see and actualize the bracha."

On Re'eh

Great plural blessing

rains on individuals

as each of us needs
n

What is the blessing?

the blessing is if you listen

that is the blessing
n

Like sand and like stars

we are each a whole and part

to shine and align
n

Click here for prosaic elaboration of these haiku.

Tehorah Hee

One thing that the Sacks siddur did particularly well - and I don't know any other Jewish prayer book that did this right - is the order of what we say first thing in the morning. The tradition is to wake up and immediately say Modeh Ani - a one sentence proclamation of gratitude. Not yet having washed our hands and cleared away the residue of night and sleep we do not say any full prayers. We ritually wash our hands, go to the bathroom (wash our hands hygienically) and then say the blessing for the washing of hands - Al Netilat Yadayim, the blessing for being able to relieve ourselves - Asher Yatzar, and then then a more elaborate prayer, this time invoking G-d's name, thanking Him for returning our souls to us. For some reason, most prayer books do not print it in this order and place this latter prayer, Elokai, Neshamah, later in the service - even though the halachic/proper order as per the Shulchan Aruch is as was just described.
h
My father, he should be blessed with life, health, and nachas just mentioned to me that this is one of his favorite prayers. It is beautiful:
;

Elokai, Neshamah

j
My G-d
The soul
You placed in me
Is pure
You created it
You formed it
You exhaled it
Into me
You guard it
Inside of me

l
You will take it from me
You will return it to me
As long as the soul
Is inside me
I stand grateful before you
G-d, my G-d/G-d of my fathers
Master of all works
L-rd of all souls
Blessed are You L-rd
Who restores souls to lifeless bodies

In his pure emunah peshutah, my father, HSLABW, sees in this tefillah a clear mandate to keep our bodies intact, even after death, to facilitate the returning of our souls. Thus it pains him when he hears of friends, living and dead who have chosen the route of cremation.

It's amazing how rich a short prayer, a brief conversation, a moment can be.

This poem comes to mind (from this eclectic post with a good comment dialogue):

Are Those Rubber Sole Shoes?

By Neil Fleischmann

n

One day my body

will fall away

like a peanut shell.

That's what I learned

in my yeshiva days.

n

Those were just words

and that was long before

the nut started cracking

filling with dotted lines

to tear upon.

n

Those were just words

spoken with no due respect

to the irrelevant piece

the unessential

the husk.

n

I'm 45 and it's 7:20

treadmill sweat trickles my head

I self inflict pain because I -

the rider and the horse -

I want to stay alive.

Hay, Contest, Frick

It's amazing how people have different sides to them. Colin Hay who was the force behind Men At Work has smart, sensitive, solo, songs. Relative obscurity seems to serve him well; take this charmingly sarcastic I Wish I Was Still Drinking. Here's a touching one; Me and My Imaginary Friend. This one, Overkill, is painfully touching and profound. And here's one that's just fun.

I have an idea. One of the topics at the upcoming J-Blogger Conference is called No-One Cares What You Had For Lunch. I'd like to open up a contest. Please write in any form: memoir, poetry, dialogue, etc. If you want to go the fiction route you can, but I really prefer this be a blogging thing, because - if you write about it well - I do care what you had for lunch. Write about a lunch you had. Let's keep it at roughly an 800 word maximum. There are no restrictions, other than to keep it wholesome and appropriate.


I recently visited The Frick Museum, which I don't think I'd actually heard of before. One of the paintings I was taken by was this one, The Wool Winder by Jean-Baptiste Greuze (1725-1805). As is generally the case, it's more impressive up close, the details of every strand of hair, fur, etc. The emotion captured here spoke to me immediately, still does. I bought a card of this and framed it.

This relates to the art discussion we've been having here lately on the blog. In a way this is more accessible than abstract art, and yet there is also much that is hidden to the untrained onlooker.

More later. Please G-d.

On Social Work

When I was in social work school full time for two rich years of my life I wrote a lot of papers. Never has the saying of Walter Wellesley "Red" Smith that writing is the cutting open veins been more true. At that time, Sept 94-July '96, computers were foreign to me. I thought you had to put in all kinds of codes to be able to type. So I paid someone to type for me (this was long before I taught myself to peck 27 words a minute). She used to tell me that I should publish my papers and process reports of work with clients. My school - Wurzweiler - forced us to keep ourselves in the process. We had to turn in a diary. I loved it. Most everyone else hated it.

I wrote in this piece about my my social work graduate school experience. Ten months ago, during the High Holiday season in an eclectic post I wrote the following:

One of the footnotes I read in my machzor explained that matzmiach yeshuah means that yeshuah is a process that grows like a seed. Reminded me of the idea of the arba ge'ulot versus the arba leshonei geulah... So important to remember.
~
Social workers say
"Remember it's a process"
Cliched yet so true
~
On Sunday I went to a shiur and wrote this:
~
"A good place to be."
First day of social work school
The addict said this
We had reasons, he had truth
Safe, in shiur, I recalled

I'll close this post with a bit of explanation of some of the above.

In our daily prayers we praise G-d for causing salvation to sprout, a beauty of an image. In human terms, there's probably some form of pain involved for the seed and the earth as germination takes place. It's like childbirth, a process which involves pain and risk of losing life, the only way life is created. When G-d took us out of Egypt he described it four ways, and this is why we drink four celebratory cups of wine on Passover. (I know it's five but I'm trying to stay focused). Some refer to this as the four phrases of redemption. It's more accurate to call the The Four Redemptions. There were stages and each one was a salvation unto itself. That's how it is in our lives too.

Social workers love saying that something is a process. They're onto something. Life is, with or without our cooperation, a work in progress.

On the first day of the class named Foundations of Social Work we went around the room and everyone said a few words about what prompted us to start this masters program. The teacher was itching to start her lecture and said, "O.K, everyone shared? Good..." She was interrupted by a student who had remained invisible until this moment, "I didn't." He went on to talk about years of heroin addiction. He was recovered. Healthy. One of the things he regretted most was living with his pious grandfather in New York City, pretending to be righteous himself, while daily doing anything for a fix. He didn't know where to go in life. He was grateful to be healthy. A rabbi told him about Yeshiva University's social work school. "I'm here," he said, "because it's a safe place to be."

I was a social worker before I went to social work school. And I have been a social worker for these past thirteen years since receiving my diploma and earning my license. For me, it's a way of viewing the world.

Maybe I'll write more about this. Maybe.

Red Skelton thanks me

With a natural smile

From up in heaven

Or so I imagine as

I write - Good night and G-d bless

59 Candles

Here's an excerpt from a piece that was in the Times. It's Molly Ringwald's thoughts of John Hughes. The most striking element of it is how articulate and insightful Ringwald is.

"About 15 years ago, I wrote John from Paris, where I was living, to tell him how important he was to me. I had been on a François Truffaut kick and had just watched the series of “Antoine Doinel” films that he had made with the actor Jean-Pierre Léaud. There was something in the connection of actor and director that I recognized in us, particularly in the first film of the series, “400 Blows.”

After Truffaut died, I heard that Jean-Pierre Léaud had suffered a kind of breakdown, going so far as to drop flower pots on people from high-storied buildings. This is most likely a rumor, French film lore, but I think I now understand how painful it is to lose someone like that. John was my Truffaut. A week after I sent my letter, I received a bouquet of flowers as big as my apartment from John, thanking me for writing. I was so relieved to know that I had gotten through to him, and I feel grateful now for that sense of closure."

"If I Had Gone Last I Would Have Known What The Game Was"

There was an interesting article in Sunday's Times. I'll post it as comment nubbier one. I find the anecdote about the question about your biggest weakness fascinating. I was disappointed when I was once asked that question in a job interview. Afterwards a friend who is advanced in his field said that its a question he always asks and that there's a right answer. The street wisdom about how to handle that question is to say that your weakness is that you have too much of a strength. Another friend of mine once posed this query on a date and the response he got was, "I'm too good." It's interesting that Mr. Obama and me seem to be the odd men out who don't know the game. When he was asked the question in a debate he said he was messy. When I was asked (the way I was asked was crafty, "What would an employer say as a criticism about you?) I was too honest. I should have said, "That I have a well earned positive reputation, ace interviews, and that I am in demand (poo poo poo)."

Gilda's Dog Story

There's a piece of Gilda Radner's book, It's Always Something, that I've always been struck by. I tried to find the book, but it's out of print. Recently, I came across the audio version of the book on two tapes, read by Gilda a month before she died. I came across it on my own shelf, had forgotten I owned it. It's the last words of the book, probably the last words of any kind of a "performance" that she ever did. Dibby was her housekeeper/nanny with whom she was very close.

When I was little, Dibby told me a story about her cousin who had a dog – just a mutt – and the dog was pregnant. I don’t know how long dogs are pregnant, but she was due to have her puppies in about a week. She was out in the yard one day and got in the way of the lawnmower and her two back legs got cut off. They rushed her to the vet who said, "I can sew her up, or you can put her to sleep if you want. But the puppies are OK – she’ll be able to deliver the puppies. Dibby’s cousin said, "keep her alive." So the vet sewed up her backside and over the next week that dog learned how to walk. She didn’t spend any time worrying; she just learned to walk by taking two steps in the front and flipping up her backside and then taking two more steps and flipping up her backside again. She gave birth to six little puppies, all in perfect health. She nursed them and then weaned them. And when they learned to walk, they all walked like her.

On Air Conditioning (click for link)

Air conditioners

Took away our porch chairs

And froze our lives

l

k

k

"Purple Horse Shoes"

Hope Flies With Feathers Like A Winged Unicorn

Today I bought The Barefoot Book of Classic Poems. I am blown away by this work, by this publishing house (community) and by the artist (and compiler) Jackie Morris. When I grow up I want them to publish and illustrate my children's book.

Before the official start of the book there are two introductory poems. And after it ends there is one more exquisite piece of poetry tucked inside the back cover.

A Book

By Emily Dickinsonu

m
There is no frigate like a book

To take us lands away,

Nor any coursers like a page

Of prancing poetry.

This traverse may the poorest take

Without oppress of toll;

How frugal is the chariot

That bears a human soul!

i
k

The Paintbox
by E V Rieu'

li

Cobalt and umber and ultramarine,

Ivory black and emerald green -

What shall I paint to give pleasure to you?''

m

Paint for me somebody utterly new.''

I have painted you tigers in crimson and white.

''The colours were good and you painted alright.

''I have painted the cook and a camel in blue

And a panther in purple.' 'You painted them true.

l

Now mix me a colour that nobody knows,

And paint me a country where nobody goes,

And put in it people a little like you,

Watching a unicorn drinking the dew.'

Dreams
j
By Langston Hughs

jh
Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

On Perception

Perception is nine tenths of the flaw. I like that saying. It's a tricky thing. We can change our own perception and even the perception of others, but it is not easy. Sometimes we can live in one reality and then it shifts when we're around and/or under the influence of others. Sometimes we enter the perceptions of others. Sometimes we enter what we think are the perceptions of others.

I was thinking about this recently and a Monty Python skit came to mind. In the scene a man stands before a firing squad. Suddenly the scene gets foggy. When it clears he's lying on a hammock and his grandmother is pouring him a glass of lemonade. He says, "Thank G-d it was all a dream." She replies, "No, this is the dream. You're still in front of the firing squad." The screen quickly goes blurry and he is again about to be executed. I find that to be a powerful parable. What is reality? That seems like an easy question but it is oh so difficult. We are all biased in how we see ourselves, others, and our relationships with others (along with everything else in life, but I'm trying to remain quasi focused). We can feel one way about our life and then enter another context and see it totally differently? Which is the dream, the firing squad or the lemonade?

Good Morning World Of Mine

I just found two haiku on the first page of a diary that is otherwise blank. I don't know when I wrote them. I searched the blog and it seems I haven't posted them before. In looking for those poems this four year old post about the world of the Y.U. library came up. I had forgotten ever writing that piece. Reading it was like experiencing someone else's work, more enjoyable than reading my own essay.

People worry (sigh)

about what will be later

letting now slip by

~

People survive now

by dreaming about later

It keeps us alive

I am thinking about loss and forgiveness and and and. There are no words for the pain of loss. No matter how long the build-up process, in the end it is always sudden.

"Would you like pizza?"

"One slice - I'm on Weight Watchers."

Long ago, just now

I have several posts congealing, and much more.

I just learned that Julie and Julia is the first movie ever to capture the psyche of an avid blogger. Hmmm.

Someone that was in my yeshiva in Israel at the same time that I was has just came out with another novel. Entertainment Weekly says, "Yes it's too early to pick The Book Of The Year. But if this novel isn't a contender, we'll eat our Kindle." Whoa.

Cold Souls has hit theaters. Sounds good. Get ready for lots of action figures and catch phrases proliferating the buzz this blockbuster is sure to generate.

I can't get through a Harry Potter book. And yet, The Magicians sounds like it might work for me.

More later. Maybe. (Can you name the movie in which the main character catches a boy falling from a tree and bemoans the fact that the boy does not say "thank you." As they part the man calls to the boy, "See you tomorrow... Maybe?")

PS - Why do people seem happy that today is supposed to be the hottest day we've had this summer?

Comments Welcome

What do these books have in common? Laughter on the 23rd Floor, Freakonomics, The Red Tent, and Rachel was his wife, I Love You Now Change? My answer? (The teacher in me wants you to know that I'm interested to hear your answer too, which I'm sure is very good.) They are all books that I borrowed years ago and have yet to return. (That reminds me that I have three pouches of creamed spinach in my freezer which neighbors put in before Pesach. I keep thinking to return them. In moments of weakness I've thought of eating them. That reminds me of the story in the Gemorah about the Rav who held onto something someone left with him and he kept caring for it as it multiplied and he transferred it into other things and became a fortune. Years later the man, who had forgotten about the whole thing passed through, and was presented with all that had accrued.) I picked these books randomly from the borrowed collection, which makes passionate writing a challenging. And yet.

Laughter on the 23rd Floor - At the end of social work school a classmate in her fifties who I never had much to do with invited me to an end of school party. She thanked her husband publicly for his support. There were two women students leaning over a Formica counter-top, were scouring The Times for jobs. They reminded me of those two critical old men from The Muppet Show, frowns chiseled into their skin. They asked, in a judgmental tone, if I was looking for a job, having just graduated. "No," I shocked them. A few weeks later, Fate offered me the job which I still hold (poo poo poo). I picked a book off the shelf and looked at it. The hostess offered to lend it to me, adding - "It will ensure we stay in touch." When I called about returning it she didn't seem to know who I was. Today, I remember her essence, but I don't remember her name. Key line (pg 113), "I would have followed Max to the ends of the earth. But the earth went off the air on June first. And we all went our separate ways: some up, some down, some struggled, some had more babies, and one, like Brian, died much too young."

Freakonomics - This is one of several books (Others include Tales Out Of Shul and Blink) lent to me before my neighbors went to Israel for two years. They're back and don't have shelf room. I check in every now and then and they say to hang on to it. I do hope that they have room for the cream spinach. It would be a shame for that to go to waste. (When I was a kid that packaged cream spinach was one of my favorite foods. I used to mix spinach and mashed potatoes - my dad's [HSLABW] idea. Delish.) Sample (pg 20) "Economics is, at root, the study of incentives: how people get what they want, or need, especially when other people want or need the same thing."

The Red Tent - About 8 years ago a ninth grader, out of the blue, said that she thought I would like this book, so she lent it to me. I couldn't get into it.The next year the girl had switched out. I would have to work hard to track her down and am willing to bet that she doesn't remember having lent me the book. (I've freaked people out in the past by returning things they didn't miss. I recall giving a shocked and mocking neighborhood father an Ellery Queen book that I borrowed when from his son when he was in 7th grade and he was I was in 8th. I once borrowed a book Haim Ginot's Teacher and Child from a woman who liked a friend of mine that I crashed with for a summer. About 12 years later she started working in my school. I felt funny giving it back, but she was right there. So one day, when she stepped out, I left the book in her office.) Notable quote (pg 1), "It's a wonder that any mother ever called a daughter Dinah again. But some did."

and Rachel was his wife - I've tried but can't find any deep meaning in the use of small letters in the title - it might just be an example of trying too hard. I think it would be sensible if books were sold with plastic on the covers the way you get them in libraries. The way it works now you choose if you want to protect the cover or the book. The person ahead of me on the Barnes and Noble line to get her book signed by Nicole Krause had the cover removed? "You like to preserve the cover, so you take it off?" Nicole asked her and she replied yes. Then Nicole said, "I do the same thing." Anyway, I must have borrowed this book about fifteen years ago from a woman I was dating seriously. I wanted to protect the cover so I took it off. Years later while sorting through papers with my personal organizer I came across the cover and it had a crease on the middle part that lays on the spine of the book. I looked online and it seems the book is out of print. This one seems do-able to return, and I hope to, one day. Sample passage (pg. 6): "But I knew Rachel, and you can believe me when I say that Rachel was everything a true daughter of Israel should be, and everything a woman could be. Yet she prided herself on only one thing: she was Akiva's wife."

I Love You, Let's Work It Out - I was dating someone seriously and one of her close friends lent this book to another one of her close friends, who lent it to me. It's filled with underlines, most of which I agree are spotlighting strong sentences. The owner of the book, last I heard, is still single. It's been almost twenty years. Maybe one day the opportunity will present itself to return this book, which I have a hunch has been forgotten. For the NY Times obituary regarding the author's young and sudden death see here. Here's an example of an underlined passage from this borrowed book (pg. 27-28): "Sometimes we deceive ourselves into believing we have what we need just so we can avoid being alone. We may claim we are committed to the other person, but deep down we know we are not getting what we want. When our commitment is tested, we find ourselves holding back, and often can't understand why. Knowing what you now know, would you still choose the person with whom you are involved? If so, why? If not, why"

This post brings to mind a piece I'm fond of that was based on six randomly picked benchers.

Gut Vuch And G-d Bless - 18 Av 5769

Vin Skelsa's Idiot's Delight is on, as always - 90.7, Saturday Night 8-12. Broken Bicycles is playing in the background as I write.k
hh

Al tadin et chaveircha ad she'tagia le'mekomo -

Don't judge your friend until you reach his place.

kjjjj

The conventional understanding of this is that you should not judge someone until you've been in their exact situation. My take on this is that since you will never be that other person, even if you experience that situation, you can't judge them because you are not experiencing their unique combination of person and circumstance. Rabbi Yamin Goldsmith has an original take on this line. Only G-d can judge, as The Rabbis put it, "Al tadin yechidi, she'ein dan yechidi elah Echad" "Don't judge as one, for the only one who can judge as one is The One." Rabbi Goldsmith's suggestion is that it is not be read "his place," but "His Place." Don't judge another person, until you are G-d, i.e. only G-d can judge.

This fits with the approach of Rabi Saul Zucker regarding loshon hara. His contention is that the problem with speaking negatively about others is that you assume the role of G-d by passing judgement on others. This. is corroborated by the fact that the Jewish court of law id referred to in the Torah with the name of G-d, Elokim. Human beings do not have the right to judge each other. The exception to the rule is a court of law which serves as a conduit for G-d's judgement.

Vin's show's ended and I've popped in a CD, (isn't it amazing how fast CDs became old? - and speaking of old...) CSNY's Looking Forward, which came out ten years ago. If you're familiar with CSNY, then you know that this is a relatively recent album, their latest, I believe. In case anyone was wondering, I'm the guy who bought this album. The prettiest songs are Young's Looking Forward and Slowpoke. Another beautiful Young song is Out of Control, which (unlike the other two) is on youtube, with Young singing it solo.

It's always good to consider poetic words of prayer. At Minchah today I was blessed with a moment and these words stayed with me*:

Splendor of greatness

And a crown of salvation

Is the day of rest and holiness

You have given your people

A rest of love and generosity

A rest of truth and faith

A rest of peace and tranquility

And of calmness and trust

A complete rest

In which You find favor.

*edited and adapted from the original and Sacks translation.

Ghosts of Eikevs Past

Parshat Eikev begins with the word VeHaya, which connotes happiness. The idea is that we are to be appreciative, rather than resentful, when listening to the will of G-d. Read more

"Not by bread alone does man live, rather by everything that emanates from the mouth of G-d does man live”– Devarim 8:3

When we eat our souls benefit from the spiritual DNA of the food. Just as physical nutrients get to us by processing food in a way that we'll receive the proper benefits, so too the spiritual vitamins get to us via spiritual preparation. This preparation is what we call a bracha, through which we acknowledge G-d as the source of all, and thank him for meeting our needs. This is the deeper meaning of this verse. Man doesn't survive only by bread but needs the word of G-d that accompanies the eating through which we spiritually survive and thrive. Read more

Last year I wrote about two possible meanings of the unusual word Eikev as well as sharing a story about, "Vehaya im shamoa tishme'u." I wrote organically about my Shabbat Eikev, which included lessons about clowning and Neruda poem shared with me by a starry eyed woman in love (not with me). Read more

Eyes In The Stars Vs. Starry Eyed

When people are vague about things, often they reveal more than they hide. I know prominent educators who went to BMT or Neve Tzion but when you ask them where they learned in Israel they will skirt the issue. The fact that you feel you need to cover up where you learned twenty years ago says more about you than where you learned twenty years ago does.

I recently lent a friend of mine a Charles Grodin memoir. My friend was surprised that Grodin never talks about his hair (he had it grown in). He's the only actor I know that went from having a full head of hair to being bald back to having a full head of hair on a regular basis. He talks openly about a lot of things, but not a word about his hair.

What does it mean when a Rebbe gives a shiur and is vague about his source? Does he not remember or does he not want to say the source? Tonight I heard that you should, "Keep your eyes in the stars and your feet on earth," in the name of Theodore Roosevelt. Years ago in Y.U. a Rebbe of mine quoted that in the name of "The Baalei Mussar." Who are they? Maybe that's just the way he heard it passed on to him. Who knows? It was a nice vort anyway, tied in with the idea that in his dream Yaakov saw a ladder with its head reaching to the heavens and its feet on the ground.

On Brick Lane

I hesitate to talk about movies here. I once mentioned West Wing and received a surprised comment that a rabbi would watch a TV show. Sometimes, I can't stay silent. I just watched a beautiful film, well conceived and realized in terms of acting, cinematography, story arc - in every way. It's the kind of film that I didn't like at some points but felt compelled to keep watching and at the end I was pleased with how it came together with wise truth. I hadn't heard of it, or the book it's based on till tonight, but I'm glad I came across it. It will stay with me.

Here's what Roger Ebert said when this movie opened in theaters a year ago:

Watching it, I was reminded of how many shallow, cynical, vulgar movies I've seen in this early summer season, and how few which truly engage in matters of the heart. "Brick Lane" is about characters who have depth and reality, who change and learn, who have genuine feelings. And it keeps on surprising us, right to the end.

Beth Aleph Click For Link)

It is fascinating to me (and I am grateful to Anne for pointing it out) that my artistic style is similar to the style of the painter Morris Louis (originally Morris Louis Bernstein), whom I never heard of till this afternoon. There seems to me no denying the similarity. This painting is called Beit-Aleph, named posthumously by his widow (rachmanah litzlan). There is a hint of calligraphy, the design resembling marks made by a fountain pen. And he was apparently aware of the spiritual significance of Hebrew letters, which he used in his works. Also of interest to me is the fact that he developed his style while painting along to jazz music. I do my abstract painting to music.

For Me, A Taste Of Heaven

I think there are two types of people in the world. The first category are those who rush even when there's no reason. The second group is those who don't rush even when there is a reason. The first group, the rushers, includes people who cut you off on the highway so they can get home a minute earlier, turn on the TV, and do nothing. The second category, the moseyers, includes people who will keep talking to one person while another waits for them.

I want to re-mention an interview I did with child actress Quinn Cummings, in case you missed it. I've been following her blog tour with great interest. I was honored that she stopped by here on her way to "The Huffington Post."

I remember being a kid and watching a specific skit on the Carol Burnett show that struck me. I hate to sound old, but why don't they make them like they used to? Man that show was something! The skit that re-entered my mind today was called "Morton of the Movies" and co-starred Burnett and Alan Alda. I vaguely remember being in my grandparents' apartment when I watched and was blown away by the sketch. I remember it vividly, although I only saw it once at young age, because I experienced it so strongly. (It reminds me a bit of a film I synopsize in the middle of this post.) I don't want to give away too much but I think this skit was funny, touching, and smart - all in the best senses of these words. (Although, I think that the last line could have been cut. That's one thing I noticed as I did some youtube hopping through old CB shows, they tend do an sophisticated skit and then tag an incongruous punchline onto the end. An extreme example of that phenomenon is this lovely skit called Day Shift/Night Shift) featuring Carol along with Tim Conway. It is like a mime act or silent movie with beautiful music in the background and elegant movement and rhythm displayed by the performers. Then out of no-where there's a clunky punchline spoken at the end.) It aired on December 21, 1974. Don't walk, run to a youtube site near you and check it out.

Netflix has taught me an interesting lesson. There is nothing intrinsically better about a new movie over an old one. I admit that I am biased to modern era color films with contemporary actors over ones made shortly after sound and speech were introduced to the process. In this context when I say new I mean within the last ten or twenty years. They make so many movies today, and they're pretty much all available on netflix. And there's nothing better about a movie presently being advertised than one that was advertised five years ago. Yet it's so easy to fall prey to the advertising, forgetting that the only reason we think we're interested in a film is that it's been so put in our face. It's a pleasure to skim through myriad titles on netflix and pick what sounds interesting and worthwhile, although I may never have heard of it before.)

When I was a kid my brother had a can on a high shelf in his room, a gift from college friends. I think it's still there with stuff left behind shrine-like. The can was light, empty, and the label had a bright label on it declaring that the contents were 100% Florida sunshine. I wish that I could package and store the moments right after I wake up. Those moments (they are moments more than minutes) are so lucid yet ephemeral. Within minutes the brilliance I emerged with from sleep is usually flushed away (I don't know how that technically works).

This is kind of a rambling post. I guess I could tighten it up, but I feel no such need. I've been written since long before blogs. I write - not only, but to a large extent - for me. When I say "for me" it means different things. I write because I have a need to get things out. As you can imagine, much of that doesn't appear here. I also like sharing ideas with others, if anyone happens to be interested. I've been offered ads here and turned them down. This is not about money. Similarly, I hope to get a poetry book together one day - and in the footsteps of Rabbi David Ebner my dream is to have the book so that I can give it to people. He self published and never looked back. Did I mention that I'm rambling, kind of the written equivalent of moseying. It's like continuing to talk to one person while another waits.

I write because I have what to say. You can take it or leave it. I have a friend who guest posted on a well known blog. All he wanted was to share Torah. He really could have lived without the many comments that the piece garnered. I don't think he'll be writing there again any time soon. One thing I am thankful for is that is that my commenters are generally very kind and gentle in their comments. And my readers who don't comment are generally kind too. Early on when I wondered if anyone was out there Esther Kustanowitz said, "Put in a stat counter and you'll know." Now I know. People read, and appreciate. And I appreciate that.

There's a conference coming up for J-bloggers. One of the presentations is called No-One Cares What You Had For Lunch. I disagree. A teacher of mine had us read Frank Conroy's Stop Time, and one of the main reasons was to learn that if you make it interesting you can write about anything. There's a chapter in there about his learning to use a the yo-yo that's well written and pulls you in. Earlier this summer I read a book about the circus during The Depression. It's a topic I never thought I was interested but the storytelling pulled me in. I don't know if I can pull it off or want to at this moment - but there are plenty of writers (Billy Collins, Chris Buckley, Quinn Cummings, Phillip Roth, Dara Horn to name a few) who I could see working literary wonders with their lunch.

I could sit here for hours and write and write. It is a taste of heaven. Still, somehow, I feel the need to tend to other things. First (and last), as Columbo used to say, "Just one more thing..."

Miniature fish

Breaded by Dr. Prager

That was today's lunch

Hopefully, unlike last week

This week I will lose some weight