Goodbye, Goodbye 2011!

January 7, 2011 -- Before things got really bad.

Well folks, it goes without saying that 2011 was probably the worst year of my life on this here planet earth. That's 28 years and three months of life, folks. Alternatively, one could argue that it was a year full of incredibly painful lessons that one hopes will lead to a better, happier life experience.

A crippling depression that went largely unnoticed on this blog (what can I say, I put up a good front) that left me in the darkest place of my life. Being here, able to write this, is something that a year ago I did not foresee. Divorce. Leaving an academic program that left me unsatisfied. Moving more than halfway across the country. Falling back into a debt that I'd avoided for so long because life stopped and restarted. Watching my family fall to pieces and losing the right to be a daughter.

So much in such a short space. I wonder how I got here, why I got here, why I didn't fall into oblivion into the dark place that took me for so many months.

And then I remember the positives of 2011. I went to SXSW Interactive for the second time in March. I spent the best three weeks of my life in Israel back in June (save for the Shavuot incident). I ended up in Denver, where the air has given me a calm and peace that I haven't experienced in years. I discovered that the love that people say they have for me is genuine, that I do have friends, that I do have something to offer people, that I am more than the sum of the thoughts of those who have pushed me down.

There are people that saved my life, time and again in 2011. My Yiddishe Mama, The Gelt, Kate, The Rebbetzin That Redefines, Cesar, My Little Brother, and the list goes on and on.

I won't make resolutions or even goals for 2012, because if there's one thing that 2011 taught me, it's that life changes in the blink of an eye, whether we like it or wish to accept it. Maybe it's something that happens with getting older, but the instance of change hits a lot harder and leaves more bruises than it does when you're younger.

So here's to 2012. May there be only peace, light, and answers for us all in this new (Gregorian) year!

Get it!? Light! Lantern?! Come on! Happy New Year!
Photo from November 14, 2011 -- A happier Chavi!

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Also, from 2011, my January 1 post that details my earliest "When did you know?" memories regarding my choice to be Jewish.

Pretending I'm Colombian

One of my best friends in the entire world is Cesar. He doesn't like being put in the public eye, and the fact that he even let me take a picture of the two of us during his Colorado adventures recently is a breakthrough (sorry, Cesar, I know I didn't tell you I'd be putting it here, but, you know, it's relevant).

Cesar was telling me about a tradition in Colombia for New Years that I think will be very therapeutic and cathartic considering how absolutely rotten 2011 has been for me. The tradition?

Burn Año Nuevo: An effigy on the name of the Old Year is made, which is called as Año Nuevo. It is tied up with fireworks, and at the point of the clock ringing twelve, it is burnt. Also, people write their faults, or any feared bad luck on a piece of paper and throw it in the burning effigy. According to beliefs, doing so ensures liberty from all past troubles, sins, and mistakes, as well as bad luck.

Evidently, people build full-size effigies of themselves, dress them up in clothes from the year, and burn them in order to wish away the craptastic things that happened. There's even a business for making small versions of effigies that are safe to burn on a balcony or in city spaces, so I'm probably going to go this route. I had some clothes I was going to donate that I don't wear or don't fit, so perhaps I'll make a little Chavi out of newspaper and dress her up 2011 style. 

Do you have any particularly interesting traditions for the Gregorian New Year? 

Well, I Guess it Was Good ...

To you, me, and the entire Jewish blogosphere. Let's drink to 2011 (and the rest of 5771, of course).

It's weird being Jewish. I don't mean that in the general sense (although sometimes it really is weird, like when you're waving that gigantic lemon and those twigs around), but in the sense that New Years is upon us and a whole lotta Jews everywhere are shutting down for Shabbat, not New Years. There will be no parties, and I'm sure plenty will go to bed before the ball drops or the clock strikes 12 (although I'm guessing a lot of people do that anyway). Booze might be had, and an abundance of food surely will be consumed, but that's just what Shabbat is about, right? Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow will come Y2K.

I actually didn't realize that New Years fell on Shabbat this year until last week, and I wasn't as depressed as I'd thought. I mean, my family had a very specific New Years plan when I was growing up. Mom would cut up various meats and cheeses, she'd make cheeseball (not the kind you're thinking), various dips, and we'd sit around noshing for a few hours on what we liked to call "Picnic" food. My mom would make the kids a non-alcoholic Pina Colada and my dad an alcoholic Margarita (the only alcohol he'd consume all year). We'd eat, watch the ball drop, then go to bed. That was our tradition since, well, forever. When I started dating Tuvia, I opted to hold on to bits of this tradition but making the Pina Colada alcoholic and choosing either meat or cheese as the cuisine of choice. Last year we did some cheese and crackers with veggies and dips, as well as chips and dip. It was really great, and it connected me to that childhood event that so defined New Years for me. And Tuvia was more than happy to play along.

This year, however, what to do? We can't run the blender on Shabbat, and by the time we eat (after all, Shabbat starts around 4:30) and try to bide some time, we'll be tired by 9 p.m. Will it be worth it to stay up until midnight not watching the mayhem on television? Not seeing the ball drop? I mean, Snookie of Jersey Shore fame will be going down in a ball, too! This is life-altering stuff, folks. And it will all take place behind the darkened screens of hundreds of televisions while Jewish families get their Shabbat on.

It seems stupid. Maybe it's not such a big deal. But isn't it? There are four New Years for Jews, and one of them is coming up -- Tu b'Shevat, aka the Jewish arbor day -- on January 20, 2011. But it's not a ball dropping, Pina Colada drinking kind of holiday. It's a "respect the trees" kind of holiday. I get that. But I can't help but feel like I'm missing out not watching the gaudy experience of Times Squarers every where.

But I shouldn't complain. 2010 saw a lot of really amazing things for me for which I've already belabored the points. What I didn't mention, however, is how incredibly well-read this blog has become, and that, for me, is a huge blessing. The nearly 14,000 page views a month (my eyes are popping out of my head right now) doesn't get me anything in revenue, but it does bring me a lot of interesting things to think about and write about, and it does suggest tiny little hugs at the rate of about 500 views a day (except on Shabbat, of course, you guys are serious). And, you have to remember, the goal of this blog is not money-making: It's people making. The goal here, is to light a fire under all the souls I can. And this year has done that. My most read and commented-on posts have all been written this year, 2010. (Check out the list over there on the right column.)

I never thought this blog would become as respected as y'all think it is, and it's a huge compliment to me. I wanted this blog to be a place of truth, surprise, and story-telling. I wanted my readers to see that I'm a real person, saying real things, expressing real emotions about real events in my life that mean something to me. The motto, I suppose, of this blog, is that "I cannot tell a lie -- to a fault." Sometimes that might be good, sometimes it might be bad, but for better or worse, it's me.

So thank you all, for an amazing, explosive 2010. I only hope 2011 brings more awesomeness and what you want to see and hear from me. And, of course, might 5771 continue to be as stellar as it has been all along. I hope to resurrect some old topics from 2006-2009 that y'all might have missed out on, but those things are so much about who I am now. I also hope to tell more stories about how I got to where I am and how I even came to Judaism in the first place. It didn't all happen in a vacuum!

And with that, I say, happy (Gregorian) New Year, everyone. Eat, drink, and be oh-so-merry!

5769 + 2009

Live from the desert of Judea, I give you the most awesome Birthright group ever, including the bus driver -- Mashiach -- in the front there. It is with this photo that I say HAPPY NEW YEAR as 5769 is now joined by 2009.

I demand a year of peace, progress, and peaceful progress. Shanah tovah!

Hear ye hear ye, 2008.

It's now 2008 where I am. Half the world has been here already, and that's okay. I can hear shouting and cheering from my little studio apartment here in Chicago, where I chose to spend the New Year watching television, crocheting, and soaking in the path up until about 5 minutes ago. So we all get a little reflective post, right? Well, I rang in the year not watching the ball drop but listening to Hellogoodbye, which is sort of appropriate, wouldn't you say?

2007 wasn't a bad year for me, really. In fact, it was a really great year, because I figured out a lot about myself and who I want to be -- and perhaps more importantly, who I do not want to be. I made some serious life and career decisions, not to mention moving half-way across the country from Washington to Chicago. I got involved in a stellar project that is sparking personal growth (Jewsbychoice.org) and became more dedicated to this blog, my project begun nearly two years ago. I've grown Jewishly, grown spiritually, grown emotionally and definitely grown mentally. I'm still a nitpicky editor who loathes the fact that this paragraph (and that first sentence in the paragraph) began with a number and not words. I still remove the commas in sentences where the fragment after "and" does not make a complete sentence. I'm still me, and that's what's good about the new year. And G-d help me, I still use the serial comma.

Some things will never change.

So my hopes for 2008 are that it will be a year where I really get back to me, where I keep working on becoming who I was meant to be. I'm not going to stop or settle or change my mind this year, I'm going to get back to school and start on the path that will lead me to self-fulfillment in so very many ways.

Oh, and as for that banner up there, I just wanted to remind everyone that Google will own 2008. Be prepared!

So to you friends (and the occasional foe), be well, and may your 2008 (and the rest of 5768) be a blessing filled with light, reflection, and peace.

Shalom!

May you be inscribed in the book of life.

It is said that not fasting on Yom Kippur is better than fasting without purpose. (The fast is introduced in Leviticus, as we are told to afflict our souls and practice "self denial.") It is on Yom Kippur that even most secular Jews take part in services and fasting -- but what is the meaning of such a fast for the secular Jew? On that note, what is the meaning of the fast for a practicing Jew? Is it to suffer? To wilt and wither for but a day? The haftarah (from Isaiah) for Yom Kippur reads:

They say: "Why is it that we have fasted, and You don't see our suffering?
We press down our egoes ... but You don't pay attention!"

Look! On the very day you fast you keep scrabbling for wealth;
On the very day you fast you keep oppressing all your workers.

Look! You fast in strife and contention.
You strike with a wicked fist.

You are not fasting today in such a way
As to make your voices heard on high.

Is that the kind of fast that I desire?
Is that really a day for people to "press down their egoes"?

Am I commanding you to droop your heads like bulrushe
And lie around in sackcloth and ashes?

Is that what you call a fast day,
The kind of day that the God of the Burning Bush would wish?

No!

This is the kind of fast that I desire:

Unlock the shackles put on by wicked power!
Untie the ropes of the yoke!
Let the oppressed go free,
And break off every yoke!

Share your bread with the hungry. Bring the poor, the outcasts, to your house.
When you see them naked, clothe them;
And from your own flesh and blood don't hide yourself.

Then your light will burst through like the dawn;
Then when you need healing it will spring up quickly;
Then your own righteousness will march ahead to guard you.
And a radiance from Adonai will reach out behind to guard you.
Then, when you cry out, Adonai will answer;
Then, when you call. God will say: "Here I am!"

So then, it is not suffering that this day entails. Physical starvation is merely a path to open up the mind and soul. The fast is not a black fast as on Tisha B'Av where we mourn the great tragedies of the past, but a white fast. While on many fasts we afflict the body while fasting, it is on Yom Kippur that we afflict the SOUL. It's sort of solemn, but we greet one another with gemar chatimah tovah -- tidings to be inscribed in the book of life for good. The goals are light, teshuvah, reconciliation.

I can understand perhaps why Yom Kippur is so widely practiced among secular Jews. It is said that 95 percent of Israelis fast on this day. I just have to wonder whether it's really SPENT the way it's meant to be spent. That goes for secular Jews and religious Jews, really. It seems that for many, going to synagogue on the High Holidays is this forced requirement. It's just expected. That's what makes me want to avoid shul on the High Holidays, despite the absolute importance of the days. I'd rather be surrounded by 10 people who genuinely soul search than hundreds who are there because it's just what we do. On that note, why don't more Jews really dedicate themselves to understanding the day, it's meanings and gleanings? I find myself ever more frustrated as the days go on here in Chicago at my super large synagogue. I miss my small community. More importantly, I miss knowing that people care; that it's more than just going through the motions. But I will be in synagogue tonight and tomorrow, thinking of the transgressions of all of humanity, not just myself, and hoping that even those whose hearts are not there, are not present, and I will think on them.

I had a chance this year to ask forgiveness from someone who I had hurt so very deeply more than a year ago, but that whom I hadn't been able to ask for forgiveness prior to last Yom Kippur. The pain carried on through this past year, so I felt it was sufficient to ask, and I am glad that I did. I can't express how light I felt when he said he forgave me. It's as if all the sins -- big and small -- are transformed, only through that one granting forgiveness. Now, and perhaps for the next year and beyond, I must work on forgiving myself. Is it wrong to go into the Yom Kippur fast having a continued heavy heart? Forgiving oneself is perhaps harder than asking forgiveness from those that have been wronged -- and this I have learned, and continue to combat.

Shanah tovah tikatev v'taihatem!

שנה טובה!

Yes, it's the new year. I have a lot to say about services last night at my local synagogue (which we joined, largely so that we could get High Holiday tickets and wouldn't have to pay 200-400 bucks a pop), and a lot to say about why it caused me not to go to services this morning.

Stay tuned. And may your new year be blessed and filled with all of the sweet things that life has to offer, and may every day that you live be holy and healthy!