Connecting with Wholeness

This week, I'm thinking about how I make this world a better place. As Jewish people, we are obligated to repair the world; how we carry that out is our contribution to the universe, and our gift from God.

How we serve, and repair the world, connects us to each other in many ways, shapes, and patterns. We connect with other living beings in our lives, whether in cyber space or in the physical world, in our roles as partner, worker, child/parent, friend, etc. Each of these connections teaches us about a different facet of ourselves. How we respond to each other also tells us if we are being honest with ourselves and each other. That is, do we embrace opportunities, or do we make excuses? Are we being whole and unified? Are we living a life with integrity? Are we treating each other respectfully? Do we treat ourselves with respect?

In the Talmud, it is said that "Because of me the universe was created." What is it about you that is so unique that only you can offer it to the universe? Do you offer this gift with your whole self, or with a splintered part of yourself? If we can't be honest about ourselves inside us, there is no way we can be honest about ourselves in our relationships to each other. Where inside ourselves do we feel splintered, and can we take the part of our self that is whole to help heal the broken parts? If we can't do it alone, maybe we can find a trusted, objective person to help us. Oftentimes, the hurting part takes up most of our vision, so that it's really difficult to see beyond it to the parts inside us that our whole.

We owe it to ourselves, and the universe, to become as whole as we can, as integrated as we can, in order to give our best self to the wider world. HaShem has given us a most unique gift of life, and we need to be co-creators to take this energy and make a mark upon this world.

Yearning for Simple

A seemingly insignificant event occured today that got me thinking. I was contemplating how to fill up my hot pot with filtered water from the fridge vs. plain water from the faucet. It's a pain to put water in, as the lid doesn't open widely enough to fit under the dispenser in the fridge door. I usually just put it under the tap in the sink. Convenience vs. taking time to put in better quality water. As I contemplated how I wanted to solve this dilemma, I spied my gorgeous, green Majolica flower pitcher. Shopping in an antique store with some old friends, I came around the corner after searching all over to see if there was a treasure to be found. In the glass case at about eye level stood this vision of luscious fecundity. Glowing in its glossy cabbage-green carved surface were gobs of flowers, vines, and leaves, all intertwined. It spoke to me.

I took the pitcher from its high perch in my kitchen. We live where there are earthquakes, so it's asking for trouble to keep it up there, but so far, so good. May we never get one that knocks it out of its aerie. [I send prayers to the victims in Haiti, may the world help them to get back on their feet, and to rebuild a better place to live.] As I gathered water in the vessel, the light went off in my head. A-ha! Here I stand, at this point in history, performing the rather simple task of getting some water to drink. It wasn't always that simple. In some places in the world, it still isn't. Technology has made it so I don't have to go to the well to gather the water I need.

Depending on when humans have existed on this planet, we've had to go from depending upon Mother Nature and the weather for our water and food and shelter, to being able to drive down the street a couple of miles to buy groceries, and stand with a pitcher in one's kitchen to get water. To most of us in the western world, that's the extent of our procuration of food, water, and shelter. The time we have saved on gathering our basic needs allows us to do more with our lives, since we have more time for these pursuits. What do we do with this time that's not spent on ensuring our survival? We make things. Technologically, we have evolved almost faster than we can keep up with. We have made infinite discoveries, invented to make our lives easier, healthier, longer, stronger, and more effortless.

There is a price to be paid, however. If we are so good at finding ways to satisfy our basic needs, why doesn't everyone on the face of the earth have access to these same devices? Why are there people starving in our own cities and countries? If technology has made the growing and purchasing of food, water, and shelter readily available, why are there people who go unfed, thirsty and homeless? Technology has also given us the ability to communicate with nearly everyone on the entire Earth. This grid is a giant web encircling the Earth, connecting anyone who has the means with everyone else. So much information! Supposedly we can know all there is to know, if we take the time to read it all.

Yet, with all this connectivity to each other, something vital is missing. When we once stood at the well collecting our water, we observed our surroundings and each other, and communicated face-to-face with all we encountered. There was a sense of connection that involved more compassion and direct contact than I believe exists in today's world. Perhaps, that is why social networking sites are so important to the masses. Even as technology makes our lives easier, and can often complement our lives, there's a sense that something may be missing. We all miss connecting to one another by the well, sharing what's going on in our lives with those souls who are accompanying us on this journey of life. At this point in history, we can "know" people we may never meet in person, ever. We can have more "friends" online than we have in our day to day lives. I know that's true of myself. In the many ways I am connected to online communities, I have more contacts over the airwaves using the written word instead of visiting with people when I can hear their voices, or better yet, seeing them in front of me.

As thankful as I am for the ability and means to connect with far more people than I will ever physically meet in my lifetime, I also yearn for a simpler time. For time to connect more directly with those around me. For a time when all people will have the means to gather their basic needs within stable, supportive environments, unplagued by wars and terror. For a time when we can use our incredible technological innovations to reach each and every one of us in more direct, compassionate ways.

And now, if you'll excuse me, or better yet - join me - with a cup of tea?

My Midlife Celebration

My husband and I fulfilled a crazy dream we've always had in the back of our minds. We bought a Harley!



It's a "Red Hot Sunglo" Street Glide Trike. THE motorcycle for daring middle-aged people. Imagine a motorized walker souped up a thousand times! Harley Davidson is onto something here, I have to say. It's a perfect entry into the motorcycle world without alot of the hassle. No special license needed, at least in California. And, for a couple of middle aged people with no motorcycle experience, it was just the right machine for us. Harley really needs to market this to the baby boomers who are ready to do something different with their leisure time.


As we both have some degree of wanderlust, we've always thought about getting a bike, but I was always too terrified to get on something with only 2 wheels that went really fast. I have a hard enough time driving a moped! Sunday afternoons early in our marriage were often spent on "mystery tours" when we drove to a general destination with no idea of what we might find, and would always be delighted by what transpired. We had a power boat for many years and enjoyed it fully, making many life-long friends, and plenty of memories.



Since we moved to the west coast, where we can potentially play nearly every day, we have had no real diversion. Hubby saw a huge group of bikes on a ride this past New Year's day on his daily walk with Charlie, and when he got home, went onto Harley's website to check out this trike he'd heard about, having seen a couple of them in this group. I toyed with the idea, letting it occupy a portion of my brain for a few days, trying it on to see if it fit. We went to a local dealer last week, and there she was, parked right in front. There was practically a billboard perched over the bike with our name on it, or at least that's how it felt. We spent about an hour there, meeting some of the people who were about to become new friends (but we didn't know that at the time!).



During the week, we kept asking each other if this was the right thing to do. We talked to a good friend who's an expert on Harleys who said to go for it, it would change our lives for the better. The idea grew on us, Harris did more research, and we started bragging to everyone we knew that we'd bought a bike. The momentum built up until by Saturday, he was telling me the countdown to Harley time! I was getting excited, too. And a little nervous.



Father, son, and I were ready at the appointed time on what would normally be a relaxing Sunday. Each had made previous trips to get a helmet fitted, so we were equipped. Insurance card was procured. Methods of payment were at the ready, all systems were go. We spent over 3 hours at the dealership, singing papers, buying t-shirts, shmoozing with some customers and the people who worked there, and of course learning how to operate this half-ton piece of machinery. Its Red Hot Sunglo body, with black leather and shiny chrome, sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight. Lots of people were drawn to it, and at one point, I went to sit on it and claim ownership! We took pictures, even a short video, as Harris learned how to drive it. He even went on the freeway for a taste of the experience, then I got on. With a slightly nervous but very excited wave, we began to drive away, when I suddenly threw my arms in the air and let out a loud whoop!



As we drove around the block a few times, and onto that small stretch of freeway, with the warm engine rumbling beneath me, I felt really free. The wind wasn't whipping my hair, since I had on the aforementioned helmet protecting my brains, but still experienced the feel of the wind and the sun and speed on my new steed. I wanted to go so fast (luckily I wasn't driving!). We drove up into the mountains nearby, but as it started towards sunset, we headed towards home, so excited with the scenery speeding past us. The stereo was blasting out some great music, and I kid you not: Steppenwolf's "Born to be Wild" played on the station we were listening to. That is THE ultimate riding song, and we took it as affirmation that we'd made a very good decision!

Live to Ride, Ride to Live. I get it now!