Before anything else, RIP Kobe Bryant, Gigi, and the 7 other coaches, daughters, parents, who lost their young lives so very tragically.
And thanks to you Jim Lehrer, for all the years you gave us of your intelligence, decency, wisdom, and maturity. You went in peace, and may you also rest in peace.
And to the supposed peace plan drummed up by Trump and Netanyahu - ????????? Really?????
And the impeachment ......
The 75th Anniversary of the Holocaust - and we have not learned a thing.
All of these things in the space of a few days, and January is not yet over.
Oh yes, the coronavirus.
Earthquake in Turkey.
A 7.7 quake in the Caribbean.
Fires, hail, thunderstorms, animal extinctions in Australia.
And now I am about to expose another of my innermost secrets.
The name Dershowitz jumps out at me from Trump's defence team, as do the other names in the headlines, Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Steven Mnuchin, Stephen Miller --- what do they have in common? They are all Jewish, and they all cause me to hang my head in shame and embarrassment.
And so something happened during these last few days that gave me some relief.
On Saturday I went with my writing group to the De Young Museum to see The Soul Of a Nation (outstanding exhibit and something everyone should see.)
On the drive in we were talking of current events. Two of the group are African Americans, the other is Jewish by birth.
I mentioned the name of Dershowitz, and then she and I intoned the other names. Oddly enough the two other women did not understand why we were so ashamed. Once we explained, both women had stories of their own, and they said "all minorities feel the same way."l
One of the woman related a program from the series "Blackish" when the family members listened to a newscast of a mass killing of 9 people. When they heard the name of the suspect and realised he is not a black man they all whooped with glee until someone reminded them that nevertheless, 9 people were killed. It was not a joyous occasion.
These women made me feel slightly more at ease with the current events - not better of course, just not so deeply ashamed. They did not get that all these names are Jewish. Clearly not everyone in the world gets the import of these surnames. What a relief.
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
Wednesday, January 15, 2020
Unprecedented
If there is anyone who reads my blog (other than the occasional comments I receive I really don't know whether anyone looks at this), you will know that I don't write very intimate details of my life. So this is a warning - the content of this entry contains intimate personal events and feelings. If you find them offensive, do not read them!
My dreams have always been very vivid, and have been a part of my life from the time I was very young. I remember many of them, even those from years ago, and I have gained perspective on my development from them.
There was a time, a long period of time, about 15 years actually, starting somewhere in my mid 40s that I began to have recurring nightmares.
These particular dreams centered around a specific theme. The first one in the 'series' that I remember; I was somewhere in the world, in a room in a house, together with two girls of about 7 years of age. One of them was the daughter of a friend in South Africa, the other a daughter of an American friend. We were playing together and I knew that there was something important I needed to tell them. However, when I opened my mouth I couldn't speak because there was a sticky gum-like substance in my mouth. I pulled at it but it wouldn't break off, and the more I pulled and tugged it, the more of it there was. The feeling was just awful. I felt a deep sense of shame and embarrassment, and there was just no end to this stuff that came out. I couldn't tell them whatever I needed to say that was so important. I felt extremely frustrated. This dream appeared in different forms and places on an almost nightly basis for years. Always I had something to say to someone, usually a girl, but I just couldn't get rid of the stuff - like toffee or chewing gum. I tugged at it while trying to hide what I was doing because it was so disgusting. I became scared to go to sleep because I didn't want to have this dream. I couldn't figure out what it meant. I discussed it in therapy, with friends, in my journals. Whatever it was I wanted to say never came out. After years they abated, although the dream still occurs occasionally, and each time I am filled with dread, both in my sleep and my awake state. What am I being told? What can I not figure out? What is is I am not saying?
My mother raised me with two maxims
Never run after a man or a tram, there is always another one coming
The other was, never become dependent on a man
This was exactly the opposite of what everyone else's mother said.
"A man will provide for you, a man will care for you. When you are married .... When you have children ......"
Of course, as most of you know, I did get married and we did plan on having children and raising a family on the kibbutz.
But it seems there were other designs for my life. I miscarried twice. These miscarriages were devastating. Not only were they painful and frightening, but they left me feeling inadequate as a woman. I felt something was wrong with me and that I had failed my husband and everyone around me. Then only a month after my second miscarriage my husband was killed in the Yom Kipur War which came out of the blue.
As the years passed many people I knew said, 'have a child on your own."
I knew that was something I never wanted to do. I wanted a child to be a product of love between partners. I asked the few women on the kibbutz why they had decided to have a child alone - the universal answer was "I wanted somebody to love me." I had a good friend who had a child, but was divorced not long after her daughter was born, and her husband left the kibbutz and the country; I asked her what her relationship with her daughter was like.
"Symbiotic" was her answer.
I didn't have children of my own, but I worked with babies and children for almost the entire duration of my working life. Other than in my latest home, my neighbours had young children and they were in and out of my home constantly. I have good relationships with friends and relatives' children. I do not feel bereft. It is now apparent to me that this particular lifetime is not for me to be a wife and mother. I know what it is not, but I have never been quite sure what it is.
Those of you who have read my entries will know that for a long time I have ruminated on time, on space, and also on our place in all of this (cosmos? universe? world?) Many of these things are beyond words - for me - I can neither write about them, nor articulate them, but this doesn't mean they do not exist. Thought too, has forms.
Perhaps it is all of these things that gummed up my ability to communicate, or that stopped me from communicating.
But something very powerful happened at the exact time of the conjunction between Pluto and Saturn with someone who is very special in my life, as am I in her life. To tell of how we met is indeed a post or two by itself. Our relationship stretches back to the kibbutz where she began her life at the age of 4, and I began my life at the age of 24.
With her permission I may write about our connections, but suffice to say, as time and space are relative, so is physicality and form. She is my spiritual daughter and I am her spiritual mother, and we help each other realise our place in the cosmos. And now I sense a deep place of security and belonging, along with a renewed sense of purpose.
I know this post will not be clear to everyone, nor will the reason be clear why I wrote it, but I simply had to put all this down, and will continue writing and posting along these themes.
I am deeply grateful.
My dreams have always been very vivid, and have been a part of my life from the time I was very young. I remember many of them, even those from years ago, and I have gained perspective on my development from them.
There was a time, a long period of time, about 15 years actually, starting somewhere in my mid 40s that I began to have recurring nightmares.
These particular dreams centered around a specific theme. The first one in the 'series' that I remember; I was somewhere in the world, in a room in a house, together with two girls of about 7 years of age. One of them was the daughter of a friend in South Africa, the other a daughter of an American friend. We were playing together and I knew that there was something important I needed to tell them. However, when I opened my mouth I couldn't speak because there was a sticky gum-like substance in my mouth. I pulled at it but it wouldn't break off, and the more I pulled and tugged it, the more of it there was. The feeling was just awful. I felt a deep sense of shame and embarrassment, and there was just no end to this stuff that came out. I couldn't tell them whatever I needed to say that was so important. I felt extremely frustrated. This dream appeared in different forms and places on an almost nightly basis for years. Always I had something to say to someone, usually a girl, but I just couldn't get rid of the stuff - like toffee or chewing gum. I tugged at it while trying to hide what I was doing because it was so disgusting. I became scared to go to sleep because I didn't want to have this dream. I couldn't figure out what it meant. I discussed it in therapy, with friends, in my journals. Whatever it was I wanted to say never came out. After years they abated, although the dream still occurs occasionally, and each time I am filled with dread, both in my sleep and my awake state. What am I being told? What can I not figure out? What is is I am not saying?
My mother raised me with two maxims
Never run after a man or a tram, there is always another one coming
The other was, never become dependent on a man
This was exactly the opposite of what everyone else's mother said.
"A man will provide for you, a man will care for you. When you are married .... When you have children ......"
Of course, as most of you know, I did get married and we did plan on having children and raising a family on the kibbutz.
But it seems there were other designs for my life. I miscarried twice. These miscarriages were devastating. Not only were they painful and frightening, but they left me feeling inadequate as a woman. I felt something was wrong with me and that I had failed my husband and everyone around me. Then only a month after my second miscarriage my husband was killed in the Yom Kipur War which came out of the blue.
As the years passed many people I knew said, 'have a child on your own."
I knew that was something I never wanted to do. I wanted a child to be a product of love between partners. I asked the few women on the kibbutz why they had decided to have a child alone - the universal answer was "I wanted somebody to love me." I had a good friend who had a child, but was divorced not long after her daughter was born, and her husband left the kibbutz and the country; I asked her what her relationship with her daughter was like.
"Symbiotic" was her answer.
I didn't have children of my own, but I worked with babies and children for almost the entire duration of my working life. Other than in my latest home, my neighbours had young children and they were in and out of my home constantly. I have good relationships with friends and relatives' children. I do not feel bereft. It is now apparent to me that this particular lifetime is not for me to be a wife and mother. I know what it is not, but I have never been quite sure what it is.
Those of you who have read my entries will know that for a long time I have ruminated on time, on space, and also on our place in all of this (cosmos? universe? world?) Many of these things are beyond words - for me - I can neither write about them, nor articulate them, but this doesn't mean they do not exist. Thought too, has forms.
Perhaps it is all of these things that gummed up my ability to communicate, or that stopped me from communicating.
But something very powerful happened at the exact time of the conjunction between Pluto and Saturn with someone who is very special in my life, as am I in her life. To tell of how we met is indeed a post or two by itself. Our relationship stretches back to the kibbutz where she began her life at the age of 4, and I began my life at the age of 24.
With her permission I may write about our connections, but suffice to say, as time and space are relative, so is physicality and form. She is my spiritual daughter and I am her spiritual mother, and we help each other realise our place in the cosmos. And now I sense a deep place of security and belonging, along with a renewed sense of purpose.
I know this post will not be clear to everyone, nor will the reason be clear why I wrote it, but I simply had to put all this down, and will continue writing and posting along these themes.
I am deeply grateful.
Saturday, January 11, 2020
About Time
Happy 2020!!!!!!!
Goodness, I remember the year 2000 so well because it was just the other day.
How did this happen so fast. Which brings me back to my constant ruminations on time, the nature of time, the quality of time, the reality of time, our illusory outlook on time.
2020 so far, Iran, impeachment, inditement (Netanyahu), and most telling and tragic of all
Australia and the fires. The land , the animals, the people.
If these events are not wake up calls, we had better change our alarm clocks.
There are those, many in fact, who do see, and do hear, and do understand the consequences of our actions, and those who persist with their blinders on and dollar signs in front of their eyes.
Pity the people who do not see.
And as for me, I try to fathom the digital challenges with which life presents me.
The latest is trying to figure out my scanner which is part of my printer.
And so, I sit at my desk and notice it needs dusting and rearranging of papers. Some to be filed, some to be destroyed. Articles waiting to be read, oh yes, I need to check my bank accounts, And then I need to rearrange some more. How did everything become so cluttered. And then my landlords' gardeners did some cutting and mowing and sweeping and stuff entered my windows and my sill and my desk are covered in leaves and branches, which reminds me to sweep the hibiscus flowers and leaves from my front door, and to change the hummingbird nectar, and while I am at it I should check on when and how to prune the hibiscus tree.
Now, why did I begin my sitting at my desk, oh yes, to check on the scanner. Maybe I should just send the forms I am completing by mail. Is mail still being used. Is it opened on the other end. Here we are, 2020, and these questions confound me. And now I shall check on the scanner.
Goodness, I remember the year 2000 so well because it was just the other day.
How did this happen so fast. Which brings me back to my constant ruminations on time, the nature of time, the quality of time, the reality of time, our illusory outlook on time.
2020 so far, Iran, impeachment, inditement (Netanyahu), and most telling and tragic of all
Australia and the fires. The land , the animals, the people.
If these events are not wake up calls, we had better change our alarm clocks.
There are those, many in fact, who do see, and do hear, and do understand the consequences of our actions, and those who persist with their blinders on and dollar signs in front of their eyes.
Pity the people who do not see.
And as for me, I try to fathom the digital challenges with which life presents me.
The latest is trying to figure out my scanner which is part of my printer.
And so, I sit at my desk and notice it needs dusting and rearranging of papers. Some to be filed, some to be destroyed. Articles waiting to be read, oh yes, I need to check my bank accounts, And then I need to rearrange some more. How did everything become so cluttered. And then my landlords' gardeners did some cutting and mowing and sweeping and stuff entered my windows and my sill and my desk are covered in leaves and branches, which reminds me to sweep the hibiscus flowers and leaves from my front door, and to change the hummingbird nectar, and while I am at it I should check on when and how to prune the hibiscus tree.
Now, why did I begin my sitting at my desk, oh yes, to check on the scanner. Maybe I should just send the forms I am completing by mail. Is mail still being used. Is it opened on the other end. Here we are, 2020, and these questions confound me. And now I shall check on the scanner.
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