Liberation from my personal Egypt Part IV

Monday night at the Sterns' wonderful Pesach Seder we went around the room taking turns reading the Haggadah-the story of Passover. When we reached the part about the 4 Sons: the wise son, the wicked son, the simple son, the son that does not know enough to ask, there was an added paragraph, which fell to me to read:  In this particular Haggadah, (a Chabad one) there is the addition of the 5th son: The Son Who Is Not There.  That's the son who chooses to stay away from the Seder table.  The son who self-exiles.  When I read the passage, I almost burst into tears.  I know I blurted out, "Wow, that's me!"

I believe that Life is a spiritual journey, not necessarily a observant religious one....even though I bless Shabbos candles, I am more culturally Jewish, I have serious barriers up to anything further.  Experience is the best teacher, and each time I've gone deeper in any of my spiritual pursuits-- and my spiritual path has taken me down many roads, from the Sikhs on Robertson doing yoga and helping the prayer services at the Sikh Temple, to Cape Town and hanging out with the Chabadniks there and here in LA--that road has been cast with hypocrites  searching for a way to exert power and control rather than nurture self discovery and faith in the Divine.

Plus, I am not a fan of organized religion.  Far from it.  I think the world needs a good dose of John Lennon.  The endless wars and killings and crimes against each other, especially women, have made me run in the opposite direction from anyone who would have the chutzpah to tell me what they think God wants from me--and being gay, my journey to be at peace with myself on this issue is not something I would ever want to repeat.  In fact womens' sexual relationships with each other are not even mentioned in the 613 laws or in Leviticus or anywhere.  Yep, another place where we don't count in the religion as much as men.

But lately, at this spiritual place--Judaism newly combined with Taoism--need that promised Zen peacefulness--- with just enough Wicca to believe in the Divine Feminine as savior to the world, I've felt I am just hanging out until I gather the strength to move on again.  Kind of comfortable in my doubts, but in reality not at peace spiritually, and therefore, not at peace at all.

There is something missing and I feel the absence so keenly there is this restlessness and emptiness where that sense of belonging should be.  I've tried to find my footing on my spiritual path over and over again, and again and again, I stumble.  And I love ritual, it makes me feel grounded and elevated at the same time, and yet I purposely don't partake.

These past few Pesachs I have not even kept the week, in fact, I've broken it with a vengeance, throwing a religious tantrum, eating a bacon cheese burger as soon as possible...and then the spiritual stomach ache comes along with that inner sadness that I've given up on myself.  Not necessarily that God is disappointed, (but, being really honest, that is in there too, hoping that you count enough on the spiritual plane to warrant that reaction).

So, this Pesach, for no other reason than believing it so necessary this time for reasons I don't even know yet, I am going to keep the week without wheat.

What I know for sure is the result of this spiritual laziness is I lost a lot of the faith I had before in the Divine Plan. I could let go then, not grip the steering wheel so tightly, but lately, I trapped myself into believing that I am the one fully in control of my life, my parents lives, and all sorts of circumstances around me.  Not consciously, but subconsciously, I've been spiritually at odds lately with really believing that there is a higher power, a universal force, and that has caused me to ignore my soul's whispers for the past few years.

So this is part of my liberation from my personal Egypt.  For it's only when you have faith in the godliness in your soul at all that you get quiet enough to listen and find your Path.

Liberation from my personal Egypt Part III

Okay this one is no surprise, least of all to me (and God love my inner circle of friends for gently trying to call me on it) and I am loath to admit it, but, this is about really being free, so here goes:

I use being the caretaker to my parents to avoid risking whether or not I would really succeed or fail pursuing my goals.

Yeah, ME, who's favorite phrase to others so often is "The cross is rented".  Well, hell, I am nothing if not a first class hypocrite sometimes.

But this Martyr thing is not as black and white as it seems, though, because I am indeed the daughter that is here, the one able to handle the things my sister is afraid of, even if she were on this side of the US.  I am the one who's in charge of all the STUFF, including those emergency room visits and checking in every day, all the practical things, etc. etc. etc. etc.........

But, the truth of it is, I have been much safer complaining that my life is on hold than actually doing something about it.  Okay I felt that, deep in my gut like the punch that knocks the breath out of you.

It's easy to fall into this...too easy, when the lines are blurred as to what really is necessary and what is rescuing them when they can take care of it themselves.

A year ago when I had to have my right ankle rebuilt and I was not able to go run after them for the 8 weeks I had to stay off my foot,  I affected a paradigm shift that actually led to me letting go enough to feel semi-free to go to Israel for a couple of weeks over the summer, to look at pursuing an overseas Phd, to a lot of things that in the past 6 years of care taking, I would not dare take seriously.  But then, I fell back into my old routine....kind of like that wet diaper that is more comfortable than a fresh, albeit scratchy, new dry one.

It's easy to not risk pursuit-of-own-desires-and-goals-failure, especially when you're doing the Noble Dance--which goes something like this---two steps towards your own life, then run like hell back to whatever obligation you can find to avoid going further.  Plus outsiders see you as so incredibly giving, sacrificing and loving, the mileage from the affirming comments from outsiders, even other family members is a priceless warm fuzzy.  You get love when you fall on the cross, when you bitch everyone understands the stress you are under--except for those bastards who have the nerve to actually suggest you DO something about it.  Who needs solutions?  I'm happy in my double M, Martyr-Misery.

Except that I'm not.  I never was.  It was convenient to take a pass on living that life with a larger purpose, and admitting this now to myself hurts in my cells, but finally I can let this insidious illusion go.   I was lying to myself thinking that what I was doing here staying small was more important and noble than the one thing that has ALWAYS mattered to me more than anything, or, for that matter, anyone: making a difference in this world on a global scale, pursuing my goals and dreams, and actually achieving them.

I have always believed that everything that happens in life is to guide you to the purpose for which you are born, and all of my Neshama Safari has been to find it.  It's ignoring that call of your soul that enslaves you, and now that I am free, I am answering Hineni.  Here I am.

Liberation from my personal Egypt Part II: WEW.LA

I finally posted some of my professional photojournalism work on line.  I've been making photographs since I was 14 years old, and now I'm 52.  That's a helluva lot of images.  I've worked for the Associated Press, the Los Angeles Times and gone overseas for International Medical Corps to photograph their war zone work in Somalia, Southern Sudan and Rwanda.  And I've just found it in me to value what I have to say with a camera enough to post some photos on my Facebook profile.  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=202657&id=754231154  Yeah.  I know.  Just this past weekend.

A few years ago I bought a film scanner and my own domain name with the intent to create a website of my work, and enough Leica gear to do the more quiet, introspective projects I've been putting on hold.  A couple of weeks ago I bought a Leica M9,  allegedly the supreme act of confidence and faith in my own talent, desire and commitment to telling those stories.  Yeah, well, sort of.

It says a lot about an artist when he or she finally believes in their value, the power of their message, and I can tell you, through a lot of scotch and tears stained dark nights of the soul, you don't ever get there alone.

I got there, finally, just now, because of Illana Shoshan,  Dr. Galit Dayan, and Meirav Oz.  I am blessed enough to be a part of Illana's organization, WEW.LA   She has pulled together these two phenomenal Israeli women and for the past two weeks, all three have worked tirelessly to empower other women to believe in themselves, to reach for their dreams and to market themselves with the confidence it takes to succeed.

I've been photographing and videotaping their empowerment seminars, from San Diego to Orange County to Beverly Hills to West Hollywood to the San Fernando Valley (missed an amazing one in San Francisco) and heard their presentations in Hebrew and in English around a half a dozen times, and even though that kind of elusive confidence does not necessarily transmit through just listening, their presentation was so incredibly powerful, it did.

Listening to Meirav tell her personal story of how she followed her dream of publishing her first novel, "One Wrong Move" and personally, through her own marketing campaign, made it a terrific success is nothing short of inspiring. Her marketing strategy, done on literally no "real" money, but when added to that incredibly overlooked intangible source- creative and networking generated funding- is pure genius.

Listening to Dr. Galit Dayan, a brilliant Egyptologist who re-invented herself to be an organizational management consultant to the top companies in Israel, speak candidly how she combines being a Mom and being the wife of a diplomat moving around the world every few years with her own business success gives perspective to the balance: I don't have a husband or kids, but I am caregiver to my parents and have many other stresses governing my life,  ones that I've allowed to take me away from my goals and dreams, always taunting me to give up on myself. 

Most of all,  the visionary force behind this empowerment mission is Illana Shoshan.  http://www.illanashoshan.com/ Elected Miss Israel 1980 and now, because of her dedication and single mindedness to the economic and educational empowerment not just for Jewish and Arab women in Israel, but for all women no matter who or where they are, Illana's just been elected Israel's Queen of Beauty for all time.  It's an understatement that she is beautiful inside and out, but truthfully I don't think the title does her justice.

Most traditional definitions of beauty don't include qualities like the selflessness, incredible courage, creative intelligence, strength, passion, guts, stamina, sacrifice,  focus, fearlessness and pure love required to take on a cause like this.  Listening to Illana speak about how important it is for women to be economically able to take care of themselves and their children, to be respected, to be equal in every way, to be able to educationally compete in the workplace, there is no mistaking her purpose. http://www.illanashoshan.com/blog/wew-mission-statement/

Photographs are little points of darkness illuminated by light, and I've always believed women are the bearers of that light....Illana, Galit and Meirav are definitely the bearers of those torches. They help light the way for all of us to liberate ourselves from our personal Egypts.

Liberation from my personal Egypt...Part I

So here it is the Shabbat before Pesach, the holiday of the Ultimate Liberation and I so desperately need and want to be finally, truly free from so much that all I can think of is Oh My God, Where To Begin?  A new friend who's very wise in the Kabbalic  significance of Passover told me that the impact of the intent lasts for the entire year.  Great.  No pressure. 

More than ever before I feel like my entire future (and may I live to 120 yrs) happiness, my inner peace all rest upon my freeing myself from this emotional and spiritual rollercoaster I've been on for so long.  And to make it even more intense, I am more emotionally raw, more exhausted than ever before.  Seriously.  Ever.  With my father's impending death, along with the sudden passing of Ralph Purdum, a truly amazing and much loved friend of my family at the age of 46, I feel like I am skidding on the handrails of a massive grief crash. 

I am so much in the moment handling everything for my parents, all the details, that I have not allowed myself to really sob--except for when Beethoven's Violin Concerto happens on the radio--- for such a long time as my Dad's days now pass slowly, excruciatingly, into night. Each day I am in the thick of it trying to at least make sure decisions are made now to somehow make it easier for both my Dad and my Mom to bear.

And so I hold back me.  It's what I do, it's what I've always done--there was no room to need nurturing as a child--- and it's only what I know and it's what I need to let go now if I am to be truly liberated from my personal Egypt, my tyranny of my self constructed "Shoulds" of how I should or should not be.

My fear of being fully, gloriously, emotionally human is the capitol city of my Egypt. (And of course I know the main river, of tears in this case, really is called Denial.) I am not comfortable with ALL of me, especially the part that has needs.  The part that is needy sometimes. The part that is vulnerable. The part of me that hurts so badly right now and desperately needs to be held while I cry and slobber over someone's shirt as I wail and let all this go.

So, instead I become defensive, sarcastic, snarky and way too macho for even my faux Xena stance.  My walls go up and I do my best to drive people away lest they find out that I'm a really strong but  also fragile woman.  I know I give off that strong woman vibe, that Knight that rescues, and that's truly, a really accurate and good part of who I am, but I am also gloriously infuriatingly human, and that's the part that needs to run into the Red Sea as it parts (or doesn't) without fear of drowning in the crashing waves of my own tears.

On Loss

I've had way too many conversations about death these past few weeks, and news yesterday that a family friend passed away at the age of 46 just has made my emotions tail spin.  I don't mind admitting that I am terrified of dying, I always think I can save myself in the nick of time.  I simply have too much to do to leave this place. And yes, writing this I am creeping myself out, like it will be some ironic morbid obit or something because my hypochondriac self is feeling pain in my left arm (it's the pinched nerves in my neck, not my heart), and because things like this always happen. 

But the reality that is haunting me  is that most lives are lives not really lived.   I always feel like I am not really living mine.  I am afraid that I will not accomplish all my goals, and being focused on that a lot of the time stops me in my tracks.  Hence my fear.

The conversations I've had about death have been intense, mostly they revolve around walking my Mom and the caregivers through the various scenarios of what will happen when my Dad's dialysis catheter finally quits, and he runs out of options.  I don't want a decision made in the emotion of that moment, and so I am doing my best as the one in charge (The One in Charge is God) to avoid it.

Finally! Brilliant piece on why Israel's Public Diplomacy efforts fail.

Thanks BFF Paul for the tip.


http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mj-rosenberg/brilliant-video-on-why-is_b_456831.html

Makes me proud.

http://www.cnn.com/video/data/2.0/video/world/2010/01/18/dnt.cohen.haiti.patients.dying.cnn.html

A few articles on Israel

Since I had to cancel my trip to Israel, I am feeding my fix with some reading of current stuff on Israeli PR.
http://www.newsweek.com/id/229372

Living in LA....

Just found out I have developed allergies and that's why my sinuses are wrecked so much of the time.  Pollen. Grass. Trees. Dust mites, (both D.f. and D.p.-apparently there are two different kinds, who knew??), Cats....the plagues of living in Los Angeles in this era. 

At least I am not allergic to any foods.  At least, not so far.

So I am going to do allergy shots to build up an immunity to these toxins.

They say that sea and ocean air are best for people with these kind of allergies.

Maybe I just need to move to either of my most favorite places:  Tel Aviv or Cape Town.

For medicinal purposes, of course.

About time.

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1138418.html

Kindle this!

I've been wrestling with buying a Kindle, or a Nook or some electronic book device that will enable me to be a walking books I've-not-yet-read library.  I normally carry at least one book and magazine with me at all times lest I actually have a moment not filled with checking my twitter feed or my e-mails or my facebook notifications.  Normally I pack one fiction, one scholarly, and one travel essay collection.  Just for a weekend in San Francisco-packed with birthday party functions, I still took two books with me. The problem was my mood, and so neither hit the spot.  You know, that transported from the first page and suddenly it's hours later and you're in another universe.  Not Borges nor Graham Greene, I tried to sink into one, then the other, for some reason was not instantly immersed, so sat on the plane, frustrated.  Immediately I found the Barnes and Noble near my hotel, and bought "The Art of Travel" that I added to the San Francisco edition Moleskin birthday gift given the next day because it fit perfectly.

I am addicted to buying books.  My Amazon visa card, and before that, my American Express card, can attest to how much I feed my fix.  Lots of money and lots of trees have gone into my habit.

So I started thinking, what if I had a Kindle?  I would have at least 50 choices on there, from Tolstoy's War and Peace to Alan Furst's "The Spies of Warsaw" http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/29/books/29masl.html  I would have been able to read The New Yorker, and all the other magazines piling up all over my condo.

Everyone I ask loves theirs.  They swear by the ability to carry a literary truck load in something the size of a DVD case, and the ability to look words up immediately by pointing the curser is one helluva selling point. And they can take it anywhere.  Maybe except the bathtub, but I can't read in there anyway because my glasses keep fogging up.

I was sold, and was almost ready to click "add to cart" when I started thinking of how much I LOVE BOOKS.  Real books. I love the feel, the smell of a book.  I love turning pages.  I love to plan curling up with a book with that perfect espresso or tea or wine or scotch or martini.  My selection of drink always fits my choice of reading material. Sometimes I cheat and, trying not to read the ending, check where I am on the journey until that last page is turned.  There is something really satisfying about closing in on that last page of a tomb like the fifth Harry Potter.  Somehow I don't think it would be the same feeling coming up on the last downloaded page. How would you know?  Books have weight.

I love to go to a bookstore with someone special, new or old friend, or lover, or relative, and buy them one of my favorite books I think they will enjoy.  One of my most favorite things to do in a strange city is find the city's treasured bookstore.  I lose myself in their stacks and always buy at least one new novel, and it becomes a cherished memory of where and when I read it. 

I love to see what other people are reading.  Stop into any Starbucks anywhere and anytime and you can see who you want to meet, even who you don't.  How many great conversations and relationships begin with "what are you reading?" or "I read that, I loved it!".  And how many times has that tell tale self help book steered us clear?

I love to gaze at my bookshelves to decide what I have not read and pull it off the shelf.  And for friends, mine is a lending library with no late fees.

I love the idea that when traveling, you can find books people have left behind, and leave yours for future travelers.  It's  Used Book Diplomacy and it's a magical way to exchange ideas and cultures.  Even in doctors offices and waiting rooms. 

The Borders Bookstore near my home is closing because no one shops there anymore.  At least not enough to pay to keep it open.  It's a huge pinkish building, two stories with a cafe and it's the only bookstore in my neighborhood.  I normally make a stop there at least once a month, now that I know they are soon to be gone, I have gone more often.


Yesterday I went and bought a few more.  Even a couple of hardbacks. The place has been packed, with fire sale deals of 30% off and more.  The shelves are a bit in disarray, picked over.  Standing in line to check out, I realized something: the Kindle and all the rest of the virtual reading devices are elitist.  Libraries and even bookstores are the great equalizers of society.  Anyone can come and sit in a library and read.  Bookstores welcome people sitting on their floors and in their cafes, pursing the shelves for hours. These electronic devices will be the death of bookstores, of libraries, and that would be tragic.

Readers of the world, unite. 

Israelis and Obama...and peace initiatives

Terrific reality check by Foreign Policy Magazine on Obama's approval in Israel and the peace process.


http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2009/12/11/how_israel_sees_obama

Brooks, Religous Fanatics and Chanukah...and Facebook?

My BFF Paul sent me this brilliant op-ed in the NYT by David Brooks.  http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/11/opinion/11brooks.html?_r=1  Brooks writes about the origin of Chanukah, how it resonates today, and the perils and dangers religious fanatics--all religious fanatics, pose.  Brooks also points out how history, especially those with ancient mythological status, are spun to feed propaganda's twin beasts of justification for actions and rationalizations for reactions.

So, impressed and wanting to share the article, I clicked on the Facebook link to post Brooks' article to my Facebook profile.  A message appeared that this post, an op-ed by David Brooks in the New York Times, has been flagged abusive by some Facebook members and therefore cannot be posted.

Brooks has no idea how right is is.

So what have we learned this past decade?

Apparently not a damn thing.

http://www.csmonitor.com/2009/1203/p02s16-usfp.html

Hungering...

Years ago I wrote a screenplay that dealt with the corruption of international aid organizations charged with feeding and caring for those in need in Africa.  In one scene, I used an actual menu from a hunger conference in New York.  When my agent sent the script out to be read, it was widely panned as unrealistic, and among the examples my critics pounced upon was this menu, with its Beef Wellington, Lobster Newberg, and other gourmand delights that fed the ample bellies of those deciding who goes to bed hungry at night, or worse, starves to death thousands of miles away.
And now this.  http://www1.voanews.com/english/news/a-13-2009-11-18-voa56-70423832.html

I wonder what the menu was this time...regardless, I am sure those who attended ate really well.

Hhmmmm......

http://www.jpost.com/servlet/Satellite?pagename=JPost/JPArticle/ShowFull&cid=1258027288871

Per last post

 Per my last post:

http://www.haaretz.com/hasen/spages/1122104.html

Thanks Leventine18 for the tip.

Hmmmm...

Saw via a friend on Facebook that a group of Rabbis from the Southern California area, around 20 of them, flew to Israel for intense conversations about how to foster more unity in the Jewish Community, especially as it relates to Israel advocacy. 

I think the time--the group will be in Israel for just a few days--- and money--they all flew on their own dime, but once there are hosted by the Israeli government--- would have been much better spent attending the first ever J Street Conference now happening in DC.  http://conference.jstreet.org/

.... if you want to create unity, then you need to listen to those among you who disagree....just sayin'...

And just like that....

...it happens. A moment of truth, of unconditional love, the gift of wisdom and compassion and forgiveness all rolled into one conversation with the one who wielded that pinpoint laser beam to open your heart and your mind in an attempt to free you from your constant creation of your own suffering.

And to think I had it all wrong...

Irony abounds, so does the hurt

So the infuriating irony of this past month is that the very reasons I had started to learn about how to be the Observer, and why it's such a necessary aspect of living in the moment, of holding on to your inner stillness, all that new age type spiritual stuff that rolls so easily off the tongue but in reality is so fucking hard to achieve, I REALLY needed to learn to not only save my sanity but probably save my entire being after what has transpired the rest of this month.

But instead I royally fucked up my private tutoring by responding with my emotions and fears and needs, and trying to control the situation and being attached to the outcome--yep, all the real nasty sins when you are clawing up that spiritual ladder--so now I feel like I essentially stunted whatever the future would have taught me had I not pushed for answers when I needed them and they were not ready to be given.

It hurts like hell, and even though am trying to be compassionate, and not pissed at my needy and  exhausted and kinda fragile self, I can't even get my Detached Higher Self game on.

Today the topic at the Multicultural leadership seminar at the Museum of Tolerance was Emotional Intelligence.  Amazing stuff, truly brilliant and so necessary to learn.  One of the main points made was studies have shown that when you are reacting strongly and emotionally to something, once you name the emotion, you diffuse its power over you greatly.

Wish I would have known that a few weeks ago.