Last weekend was the Bat Mitzvah - long awaited, studied for and feared. In spite of all my anxieties and mishugas, it went well. It went more than well - it was wonderful.
The service went smoothly - no major blunders or gaffe's. Everyone knew their parts (well, except Madame X, my nemesis - who lost her place in reading the Torah).
There were lots of people there from my family and friends to people at the temple who know me and supported me. Afterwards, even people I didn't know well came up to me and told me how moved they were by my speech and my dedication. It made me feel just great.
Some of us wore white - but I could have got away with wearing the cream outfit, or black pants as several people wore black pants or skirt. Only two of us wore all white. My maroon tallis kind of kept that from being too glaring though. Madame X wore a grey suit!
The luncheon was nice, plenty of food. The change about to tables and chairs from congregation seating worked well. The aliyahs went well, no-one fell down or knocked someone else down. The party that night went well - some things I would have changed if I had known but overall fine.
What a relief that it was over and I could think of what I wanted to do next in terms of my Jewish journey and education. The High Holy Days are coming up and I was asked to speak during an afternoon session of "Jewish Journeys" so I can prepare for that. It shouldn't be too hard as my Bat Mitzvah speech will give me some useful
bits to fit in. I just hope Madame X doesn't find out that I'm doing this though as she might try to sabotage me.
The group of women involved in the Bat Mitzvah are getting together in two weeks to finish up business and pay off any unexpected expenses. This involved a few emails back and forth to decide on the best day to do it.
I came home today and heard a very upset member of the class ranting on my answer machine about some email from Madame X but since I couldn't find it on my computer, I thought it was an old email - or that my computer had successfully blocked it. But no - I was not to be spared. This evening when I checked my emails, there it was. Another email demanding apologies from me and saying that my emails had "left a bad taste in her mouth". Would that it were poisen.
I emailed back that no, I would not be apologizing again for a slur I had made about her "performance" one Friday night when she and her friend were doing the musical portion of the service. I had apologized in class the same day it happened saying I should not have brought it up as it wasn't relevant. (It really was, but ....)
I told her that if her friend had any issues with me, it was up to her friend to tell me and she need not act as her friend's intermediary. And I told her not to contact me any more.
I'm beginning to feel hounded and wondering if I can get an injunctiona against her to stay out of my computer, my phone and my life!!
We still have this one resolution meeting - which I probably haven't heard the last of.
I'm wondering if I'm going to have to leave the temple. I'd hate to do it, but it's giving me an ulcer to have to see her at the services and study groups. She has styled herself as "cantorial soloist" this summer so I haven't gone to Friday night services which is OK as I prefer Saturday morning anyway. But if she's going to push her way into the running of services as she tried to with the class - I don't think I can handle it.
The instructor of the class is obviously afraid of her and has said so to me. She admits that she, the instructor, was slow to catch onto what Madame X was trying to do and eventually tried to modify her behaviour which helped, but did not fix the problems begun early in the class. Right up to the Friday before the Saturday Bat Mitzvah, Madame X was writing emails saying the SHE would be holding the microphone when we sang and we should wait for her to give us the "key" (which in her case is cat screech high). The instructor wrote back that she should avoid the appearance of being the "leader" of the group as we were doing this AS a group - finally a boundary.
The instructor had also written that since this was a Saturday service, no-one was a "soloist", but some would be holding the microphone while others joined in. That frosted Madame X's cheese as she had begged to sing solo - all 5-6 of her prayers. I had written the instructor and told her that I would sing along - quietly - but I would sing. It's what I would do if I were in the congregation and I would do no less at my own Bat Mitzvah.
And so it goes on.
Several people in the class have said to me that they realized that one of the things they learned was that they would stand up for what they believed in - the class had tested them in that way. That was, for sure, true for me. Plus I don't think the others have been treated to the vitriolic emails I have. But I had not expected to continue being "tested" in this way.
I wish I could just let it roll over me. But here I am sleepless, churning stomach and slight headache. My thoughts are stuck on repeating "I said" and "she said" dialogs. And wishing I had said this or that - which would probably have gotten me in deep doo doo. Deeper even than now.
I no longer wish I had dropped out early on - it was too satisfying to have completed it. But I wish it could have been different without me rolling over and playing dead.
Oh well, the beat goes on................................
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Blabbermouth
I don't know what it is in me, but whatever I'm thinking or feeling comes right out of my mouth. I've always been this way. My Mother used to yell and me and smack me for "telling family secrets"....like I knew what they were. People on buses with me knew everything about me and my husband said that when I was in line for a movie, I left knowing everyone's means of birth control..In school I was always sharing - I thought - what I was doing and what my interests were which essentially was gossip. Only to find out that others felt that was too intrusive. And now, I seem to be doing it to my kids.
I write about my anxieties, fears. I try to fix problems. I worry over events and
incidents, relationships. I think I'm probably a pain in the neck to my youngest daughter - and she's right. I'm always stepping on her toes, it would seem - or revealing things that she wants to keep personal.
If someone tells me that what we are talking about is secret - I do honor that. But often, I'm just thinking about whatever situation is occurring and it just runs out of my mouth.
Even here, where there are few readers and I'm mostly writing to relieve my own tensions and anxieties - I must remember there ARE readers.
I guess this is a form of apology or explanation to those of my readers who might be affected by my behaviour. I wish I understood it better.
I do know that some of it is "currency of communication".....my Mother may have condemned me for talking to much but she and my Aunt Helen traded family "secrets", personal information about me
and general gossip as a constant flow of exchange. Everyone in my Mother's circle knew when I got my period, what my grades were, what my interests were and what boys I liked....there were no boundaries within the family. But I think I took it farther. Sharing all this stuff is a way of creating bonds, giving and taking in relationships - the problem being that the people I talk about may have other ideas
about sharing their personal information.
I always think of village life - where my Mom came from. No books, movies, TV, newspapers or magazines. What else was there to talk about and entertain onself with? There were no secrets no matter how hard people tried to have private lives.
I think people's interest in the personal life of movie stars and "public" figures is an extension of that "schetl" life. We are interested in each other - we bond via sharing information. But at the same time, I remember my Mother trying to keep SOME information private. But soap operas are there for a reason and I think the reason stems from our social history as human beings.
I guess I'm looking for excuses. But I notice that others do this - it's the currency of conversation in my Chavurah and I'm at a disadvantage because I don't even know the people they talk about. But they do talk....a lot about other people.
How they know who is getting married, divorced, or pregnant I don't know they get this information but they do.
So cut me some slack here. If it's a secret - say so....if you don't want people to know something - don't tell me. I may feel cut out - but at least I don't feel like
I'm a terrible person for talking.
I'm a talker. I belong to at least three groups whose sole purpose is talking - mostly about ourselves and what's happening in our lives. It's very helpful for me to be able to do this and get feedback on things that disturb or upset me. I get a lot of insight that comes from being very open in these groups. And I'm thinking of getting into a current events group so I can share my feelings and thoughts about what's happening in the world. AND, I really do want to hear what other people are thinking even if I disagree with them.
Still, I'm also trying to pay attention to when I USE the information I have in a way that is not healthy. In trying to give myself more importance, or trying to be entertaining......it's not a fair exchange at that point.
OK, I've rambled enough - and if there is something to be learned here - I'll have to t hink on it. Just bear with me - I'm only human and a talker!
I write about my anxieties, fears. I try to fix problems. I worry over events and
incidents, relationships. I think I'm probably a pain in the neck to my youngest daughter - and she's right. I'm always stepping on her toes, it would seem - or revealing things that she wants to keep personal.
If someone tells me that what we are talking about is secret - I do honor that. But often, I'm just thinking about whatever situation is occurring and it just runs out of my mouth.
Even here, where there are few readers and I'm mostly writing to relieve my own tensions and anxieties - I must remember there ARE readers.
I guess this is a form of apology or explanation to those of my readers who might be affected by my behaviour. I wish I understood it better.
I do know that some of it is "currency of communication".....my Mother may have condemned me for talking to much but she and my Aunt Helen traded family "secrets", personal information about me
and general gossip as a constant flow of exchange. Everyone in my Mother's circle knew when I got my period, what my grades were, what my interests were and what boys I liked....there were no boundaries within the family. But I think I took it farther. Sharing all this stuff is a way of creating bonds, giving and taking in relationships - the problem being that the people I talk about may have other ideas
about sharing their personal information.
I always think of village life - where my Mom came from. No books, movies, TV, newspapers or magazines. What else was there to talk about and entertain onself with? There were no secrets no matter how hard people tried to have private lives.
I think people's interest in the personal life of movie stars and "public" figures is an extension of that "schetl" life. We are interested in each other - we bond via sharing information. But at the same time, I remember my Mother trying to keep SOME information private. But soap operas are there for a reason and I think the reason stems from our social history as human beings.
I guess I'm looking for excuses. But I notice that others do this - it's the currency of conversation in my Chavurah and I'm at a disadvantage because I don't even know the people they talk about. But they do talk....a lot about other people.
How they know who is getting married, divorced, or pregnant I don't know they get this information but they do.
So cut me some slack here. If it's a secret - say so....if you don't want people to know something - don't tell me. I may feel cut out - but at least I don't feel like
I'm a terrible person for talking.
I'm a talker. I belong to at least three groups whose sole purpose is talking - mostly about ourselves and what's happening in our lives. It's very helpful for me to be able to do this and get feedback on things that disturb or upset me. I get a lot of insight that comes from being very open in these groups. And I'm thinking of getting into a current events group so I can share my feelings and thoughts about what's happening in the world. AND, I really do want to hear what other people are thinking even if I disagree with them.
Still, I'm also trying to pay attention to when I USE the information I have in a way that is not healthy. In trying to give myself more importance, or trying to be entertaining......it's not a fair exchange at that point.
OK, I've rambled enough - and if there is something to be learned here - I'll have to t hink on it. Just bear with me - I'm only human and a talker!
Sunday, August 8, 2010
and on and on
Well, it's not over until the fat lady sings - or splits a gut!!
The nemisis WENT AHEAD AND INSTRUCTED A GUITAR PLAYER TO SHOW UP.....this in spite of the fact that the instructor said no, it's too late in the game.
She, nemisis, sent an email saying that "the class" had decided on a guitar player and she had arranged for him to show up tonight. I answered, of course, I wasn't in the class when that was decided and I wasn't going to pay for it. Plus, it's too late in the game to add him.
Well, boy did I get an email back. Vitriol on the half shell. Reviewing and rehashing all our conflicts she has decided that I'm a dependably negative person.
Overlooking of course, that that means I don't want to go along with her decisions about MY class. She pointed out that since I'm not singing anything, I don't have any say about the guitarist.
I answered - probably shouldn't have - as reasonably and not too sarcastically (I thought) that I don't have any singing parts because she grabbed them all - and besides I like to sing with others, not solo (which she insists she should do) but Morey thought it was, sarcastic that is. Now the instructor has sent another email saying:
NO, it's too late and I've cancelled the guitarist......I think, even she has had enough. Six days to go - two more rehearsals - one tonight and another on Thursday.
I don't think I have enough Valium.
I wouldn't want to get too comfortable though - six days is more than enough for nemisis to think of a few more things to add, change, or debate on.
I'm dreading tonight's rehearsal. I'm not, by nature, combative or confrontive - I dislike it actually. But I felt I had to speak up as no-one else was stopping this locomotive of a woman - and not the teacher either (for which I really hold her responsible for a lot of this). Is this what happens when tyrants or bullies rule?
People are afraid to speak up - or they join them so they'll be on the "safe" side?
If no-one says anything, who do we have to blame when it turns out to be "X's Bat Mitzvah with backup singers".....?
What I have learned....I'll fight for what I believe if I'm pushed hard enough.
It costs me nervous stomach, irritable bowel, high blood pressure. 12 step programs are not helpful as they say "Pray for her, she's a sick person and you would not be mad at a sick person." But where does that leave me? Accepting the domination and bullying of this individual? Sick as she may be - it's my Bat Mitzvah too.
Oh well, it's good we are wearing a lot of white - the blood will show up well on it.
The nemisis WENT AHEAD AND INSTRUCTED A GUITAR PLAYER TO SHOW UP.....this in spite of the fact that the instructor said no, it's too late in the game.
She, nemisis, sent an email saying that "the class" had decided on a guitar player and she had arranged for him to show up tonight. I answered, of course, I wasn't in the class when that was decided and I wasn't going to pay for it. Plus, it's too late in the game to add him.
Well, boy did I get an email back. Vitriol on the half shell. Reviewing and rehashing all our conflicts she has decided that I'm a dependably negative person.
Overlooking of course, that that means I don't want to go along with her decisions about MY class. She pointed out that since I'm not singing anything, I don't have any say about the guitarist.
I answered - probably shouldn't have - as reasonably and not too sarcastically (I thought) that I don't have any singing parts because she grabbed them all - and besides I like to sing with others, not solo (which she insists she should do) but Morey thought it was, sarcastic that is. Now the instructor has sent another email saying:
NO, it's too late and I've cancelled the guitarist......I think, even she has had enough. Six days to go - two more rehearsals - one tonight and another on Thursday.
I don't think I have enough Valium.
I wouldn't want to get too comfortable though - six days is more than enough for nemisis to think of a few more things to add, change, or debate on.
I'm dreading tonight's rehearsal. I'm not, by nature, combative or confrontive - I dislike it actually. But I felt I had to speak up as no-one else was stopping this locomotive of a woman - and not the teacher either (for which I really hold her responsible for a lot of this). Is this what happens when tyrants or bullies rule?
People are afraid to speak up - or they join them so they'll be on the "safe" side?
If no-one says anything, who do we have to blame when it turns out to be "X's Bat Mitzvah with backup singers".....?
What I have learned....I'll fight for what I believe if I'm pushed hard enough.
It costs me nervous stomach, irritable bowel, high blood pressure. 12 step programs are not helpful as they say "Pray for her, she's a sick person and you would not be mad at a sick person." But where does that leave me? Accepting the domination and bullying of this individual? Sick as she may be - it's my Bat Mitzvah too.
Oh well, it's good we are wearing a lot of white - the blood will show up well on it.
And the Band plays on
I think I'm nuts.
I've spent a small fortune on clothes for this Bat Mitzvah - not because I want to either - well, I guess I must want to - I'm doing it.
I didn't want all white - I'm a retired nurse and spent 25 years in white uniforms so all white just doesn't appeal to me. But it wasn't like anyone there in that class listens to anything I say. I'm old, I'm fat and I'm clueless (apparently).
So they decided "all white" - except of course, my nemisis who is wearing grey.
At first I thought, "Oh well, I'll go along with the group." I bought a "nice" white T shirt and skirt from Ross. But then I thought - "my leg brace will be out there in the open for all to see, and it's ugly" so I thought I'd better get pants.
The pants when they arrived were cream, so I bought a nice cream and lavender top to go with them. Then I saw pictures of the "wedding" dresses the other were wearing - or at least a couple of the others - and felt I'll look like a jerk in a T shirt and pants. So I ordered a really fancy white blouse with cutout design on it (which I haven't received yet) only to think "Oh no, I'll need white white pants to go with that." So off I went to find the only pair of white white pants in Santa Rosa in my size (one pair!!) Then, I got to thinking and thought "We are all wearing white - except my nemisis and she's wearing a grey suit (she said).....I'm not going to let her get away with that but I don't want to spoil the look of the group - so I ordered a grey skirt to go with the fancy blouse.
I don't know what I'm going to wear.
At the last minute, I'll be putting things on and off, begging my daughter and daughter-in-law to tell me what looks the best.
I console myself with the fact that there is a dinner that evening for which I will have to look "nice" too - but don't worry - I'm not buying more clothes. Something in my wardrobe will go with something I've bought and that will have to do. Some things will just have to go back but that's the drawback of buying online. I don't have the packing materials any more or the return slips although I'm sure I can figure out how to manage if I have to.
Am I crazy? Of course. I'm also getting paranoid over being old and fat. I'm both.
I'm at least 30 years older than most of the women in the group (except my nemisis) so that's probably why they discount me and tend not to pay attention when I say something. They jabber among themselves about things pertinent to their lives and I probably did the same when I was their age. They are immersed in young children, the schools, the activities, the Hebrew classes (of their kids) and their jobs. I'm definitely on the outside of that - I don't even know most of the people they talk about.
I'm also by far the heaviest person in the class. I would guess that all but one are size 8 or thereabouts. The one who isn't is tall and slender - the others are short birdlike bodies that make me wonder how they ever bear children....no hips.
I feel like I'm going to crush them when obligatory hugs occur.
And, did I mention shoes? Oh damn. I love shoes. I was never a $100 a pair person, more like 100 pairs of $2.99 shoes from Ross. But now, with my brace, there are few styles I can wear comfortably and none that are fancy.
I bought a pair for the Bat Mitzvah but tried wearing them yesterday and they were so uncomfortable I don't see how I can get through a couple of hours of standing and/or walking (lots of sitting too). And they are CREAM (oh, don't get me started again). I have black sandals that would work, but that means I have to get a pedicure! Oh no, I can see where this is going.......manicure, facial, massage..........
Really, is there no end to this insanity?
They tend to let their eyes slide over me as though I'm invisible most of the time.
I'm a sight they don't want to believe in - old AND fat. Not a socially acceptable
combination.
I don't normally think of myself as fat. I've lost about 40 lbs in the last 7 years and kept them off, but I could stand to lose another 20 but it isn't happening and I'm not willing to make the changes that will make that happen. Yet. And, let's face it, there's nothing I can do about age. I'm lucky to have made it this far, let alone fool anyone that I'm young.
Problem is, my head feels young - at least younger than my body. So I want to join in, I want to bake up a storm, I want to party and dance - but it ain't going to happen. Instead I get tired at the thought of all the meals I will have to prepare, supervise and/or pay for. Personally, I prefer paying for them and enjoying the company because it's either, or. Not both. But that's the wisdom of age. So there's some good to come from it.
And, one last thing, it seems my nemisis has decided that a guitar would be nice to add to the service (less than 1 week to the service) and I saw an email from the instructor saying "No, it's too late to do anything like that." We'll see. I'm staying out of it beyond my response to the email which was "Yaayy".....I have my doubts if the instructor can hold out and I'm sick and tired of fighting.
My one consolation is that I talked to a member of a previous adult class (five people) who told me that it was the same in her class. One person tried to run the show and was bullying everyone to do it her way. It's not much of a consolation.
I've spent a small fortune on clothes for this Bat Mitzvah - not because I want to either - well, I guess I must want to - I'm doing it.
I didn't want all white - I'm a retired nurse and spent 25 years in white uniforms so all white just doesn't appeal to me. But it wasn't like anyone there in that class listens to anything I say. I'm old, I'm fat and I'm clueless (apparently).
So they decided "all white" - except of course, my nemisis who is wearing grey.
At first I thought, "Oh well, I'll go along with the group." I bought a "nice" white T shirt and skirt from Ross. But then I thought - "my leg brace will be out there in the open for all to see, and it's ugly" so I thought I'd better get pants.
The pants when they arrived were cream, so I bought a nice cream and lavender top to go with them. Then I saw pictures of the "wedding" dresses the other were wearing - or at least a couple of the others - and felt I'll look like a jerk in a T shirt and pants. So I ordered a really fancy white blouse with cutout design on it (which I haven't received yet) only to think "Oh no, I'll need white white pants to go with that." So off I went to find the only pair of white white pants in Santa Rosa in my size (one pair!!) Then, I got to thinking and thought "We are all wearing white - except my nemisis and she's wearing a grey suit (she said).....I'm not going to let her get away with that but I don't want to spoil the look of the group - so I ordered a grey skirt to go with the fancy blouse.
I don't know what I'm going to wear.
At the last minute, I'll be putting things on and off, begging my daughter and daughter-in-law to tell me what looks the best.
I console myself with the fact that there is a dinner that evening for which I will have to look "nice" too - but don't worry - I'm not buying more clothes. Something in my wardrobe will go with something I've bought and that will have to do. Some things will just have to go back but that's the drawback of buying online. I don't have the packing materials any more or the return slips although I'm sure I can figure out how to manage if I have to.
Am I crazy? Of course. I'm also getting paranoid over being old and fat. I'm both.
I'm at least 30 years older than most of the women in the group (except my nemisis) so that's probably why they discount me and tend not to pay attention when I say something. They jabber among themselves about things pertinent to their lives and I probably did the same when I was their age. They are immersed in young children, the schools, the activities, the Hebrew classes (of their kids) and their jobs. I'm definitely on the outside of that - I don't even know most of the people they talk about.
I'm also by far the heaviest person in the class. I would guess that all but one are size 8 or thereabouts. The one who isn't is tall and slender - the others are short birdlike bodies that make me wonder how they ever bear children....no hips.
I feel like I'm going to crush them when obligatory hugs occur.
And, did I mention shoes? Oh damn. I love shoes. I was never a $100 a pair person, more like 100 pairs of $2.99 shoes from Ross. But now, with my brace, there are few styles I can wear comfortably and none that are fancy.
I bought a pair for the Bat Mitzvah but tried wearing them yesterday and they were so uncomfortable I don't see how I can get through a couple of hours of standing and/or walking (lots of sitting too). And they are CREAM (oh, don't get me started again). I have black sandals that would work, but that means I have to get a pedicure! Oh no, I can see where this is going.......manicure, facial, massage..........
Really, is there no end to this insanity?
They tend to let their eyes slide over me as though I'm invisible most of the time.
I'm a sight they don't want to believe in - old AND fat. Not a socially acceptable
combination.
I don't normally think of myself as fat. I've lost about 40 lbs in the last 7 years and kept them off, but I could stand to lose another 20 but it isn't happening and I'm not willing to make the changes that will make that happen. Yet. And, let's face it, there's nothing I can do about age. I'm lucky to have made it this far, let alone fool anyone that I'm young.
Problem is, my head feels young - at least younger than my body. So I want to join in, I want to bake up a storm, I want to party and dance - but it ain't going to happen. Instead I get tired at the thought of all the meals I will have to prepare, supervise and/or pay for. Personally, I prefer paying for them and enjoying the company because it's either, or. Not both. But that's the wisdom of age. So there's some good to come from it.
And, one last thing, it seems my nemisis has decided that a guitar would be nice to add to the service (less than 1 week to the service) and I saw an email from the instructor saying "No, it's too late to do anything like that." We'll see. I'm staying out of it beyond my response to the email which was "Yaayy".....I have my doubts if the instructor can hold out and I'm sick and tired of fighting.
My one consolation is that I talked to a member of a previous adult class (five people) who told me that it was the same in her class. One person tried to run the show and was bullying everyone to do it her way. It's not much of a consolation.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Bride of Christ
This Bat Mitzvah has been a whole new experience and a learning one for me.
First of all, I got a woman whose role in life is to be obstructive and destructive.
It's no accident that she was in the middle of a divorce during this process. I came to feel for her soon-to-be ex husband. First she drove him to drink, and then to beating her. I, too, felt like beating her.
But - no - I'm supposed to be a nice person. I'm supposed to be understanding and treat her like a "sick" person - which she indeed is. But it came hard. I used my program and prayed for us both. The really sad thing is that I thought she was most likely to become my friend in this process. She and I have a similar requirement, I thought, of our Bat Mitzvah in that it enlarge and develop our spiritual growth. It would be a milestone on the path of becoming. She is probably closest in age to me and since I found the youth of most of the other women to be a barrier - well, it wasn't to be.
The younger women are well educated, deeply involved in careers and have young children - many of whom are in the bar mitzvah process and during which their mothers wanted to understand and know what their children were expected to do. A laudable goal - but not one I was in any position to experience.
The fact is that my expectations were bound to be disappointed. You can't get a group of Jewish women together without creating a setting for power struggles, competitiveness, and one upmanship. Sadly enough. Although maybe any group Jewish or otherwise, has these things going for it. I had hoped for better.
I was also surprised at the disrespect many of them had for the whole classroom experience. Granted, the teacher was a disorganized wishy wash who lost control early on and never really regained it - although she did try some things. She admitted to me that boundaries were difficult for her and saying "NO", is a definite boundary. But it was more than that - they were disrespectful, talking over her, continuing to chatter about their own issues when she tried to steer them into "class" objectives. And just generally being oblivious of the necessity of paying attention and respecting each other. I can't imagine how any of them functioned in their own scholastic experience and a couple of them are currently teachers - although admittedly, one of the teachers behaved responsibly and the other was more easily herded into a semblance of order. But a couple of the others just didn't!!
Don't you wonder what their kids are like?
My own educational experience was old fashioned - we were taught to respect the teachers - indeed their word was law - which is another reason I was so disappointed in this teacher - she did not put her foot down and demand attention, respect and order. She let the more aggressive people in the class take control of it. And what a mess that is.
I'm hoping and praying that the end result will be at least acceptable, if not glorious. My fear is that we'll stumble around on stage, bumping into each other, forgetting parts of the service and having to start over. Or be reminded what to do.
Tonight was the 3rd to last rehearsal and we are still blithering around like a bunch of sheep without a leader. We are still making changes to the structure of the service and debating the music to use for particular musical parts. I don't feel at all secure in knowing what comes next, knowing what the music is for that part or where I should be positioned on the stage in relation to everyone else.
I'm afraid I will sit when they stand, or face the ark, when they face the congregation.
Fortunately, the woman who sits next to me is well organized and points me in the right direction but even she admits to having a lot of re-writes and write-ins on her performance notebook (and she was the one who wrote it all out in the first place).
Well, what is the worst that can happen. The rabbi can take over and herd us through the process - or we can just stumble to the finish line and no-one will laugh. There are no judges who will kick us out or announce that we haven't achieved our level of competence. And G-d hasn't been known to strike anyone dead under these circumstances, for quite a while now.
But, like I said, it's not what I expected.
Oh, and the title - G-d help us. They've all decided to wear white like we are brides of Christ - and some of them are shopping at Nordstroms for bridelike dresses and for all I know veils. Here I was with my white T shirt and Ross skirt, planning on being as Orthodox as I'm capable of and planning on slipping in on a Saturday morning and doing my thing and slipping out. Not going to happen.
If there is a G-d, I imagine he's laughing his butt off.
First of all, I got a woman whose role in life is to be obstructive and destructive.
It's no accident that she was in the middle of a divorce during this process. I came to feel for her soon-to-be ex husband. First she drove him to drink, and then to beating her. I, too, felt like beating her.
But - no - I'm supposed to be a nice person. I'm supposed to be understanding and treat her like a "sick" person - which she indeed is. But it came hard. I used my program and prayed for us both. The really sad thing is that I thought she was most likely to become my friend in this process. She and I have a similar requirement, I thought, of our Bat Mitzvah in that it enlarge and develop our spiritual growth. It would be a milestone on the path of becoming. She is probably closest in age to me and since I found the youth of most of the other women to be a barrier - well, it wasn't to be.
The younger women are well educated, deeply involved in careers and have young children - many of whom are in the bar mitzvah process and during which their mothers wanted to understand and know what their children were expected to do. A laudable goal - but not one I was in any position to experience.
The fact is that my expectations were bound to be disappointed. You can't get a group of Jewish women together without creating a setting for power struggles, competitiveness, and one upmanship. Sadly enough. Although maybe any group Jewish or otherwise, has these things going for it. I had hoped for better.
I was also surprised at the disrespect many of them had for the whole classroom experience. Granted, the teacher was a disorganized wishy wash who lost control early on and never really regained it - although she did try some things. She admitted to me that boundaries were difficult for her and saying "NO", is a definite boundary. But it was more than that - they were disrespectful, talking over her, continuing to chatter about their own issues when she tried to steer them into "class" objectives. And just generally being oblivious of the necessity of paying attention and respecting each other. I can't imagine how any of them functioned in their own scholastic experience and a couple of them are currently teachers - although admittedly, one of the teachers behaved responsibly and the other was more easily herded into a semblance of order. But a couple of the others just didn't!!
Don't you wonder what their kids are like?
My own educational experience was old fashioned - we were taught to respect the teachers - indeed their word was law - which is another reason I was so disappointed in this teacher - she did not put her foot down and demand attention, respect and order. She let the more aggressive people in the class take control of it. And what a mess that is.
I'm hoping and praying that the end result will be at least acceptable, if not glorious. My fear is that we'll stumble around on stage, bumping into each other, forgetting parts of the service and having to start over. Or be reminded what to do.
Tonight was the 3rd to last rehearsal and we are still blithering around like a bunch of sheep without a leader. We are still making changes to the structure of the service and debating the music to use for particular musical parts. I don't feel at all secure in knowing what comes next, knowing what the music is for that part or where I should be positioned on the stage in relation to everyone else.
I'm afraid I will sit when they stand, or face the ark, when they face the congregation.
Fortunately, the woman who sits next to me is well organized and points me in the right direction but even she admits to having a lot of re-writes and write-ins on her performance notebook (and she was the one who wrote it all out in the first place).
Well, what is the worst that can happen. The rabbi can take over and herd us through the process - or we can just stumble to the finish line and no-one will laugh. There are no judges who will kick us out or announce that we haven't achieved our level of competence. And G-d hasn't been known to strike anyone dead under these circumstances, for quite a while now.
But, like I said, it's not what I expected.
Oh, and the title - G-d help us. They've all decided to wear white like we are brides of Christ - and some of them are shopping at Nordstroms for bridelike dresses and for all I know veils. Here I was with my white T shirt and Ross skirt, planning on being as Orthodox as I'm capable of and planning on slipping in on a Saturday morning and doing my thing and slipping out. Not going to happen.
If there is a G-d, I imagine he's laughing his butt off.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Midnight rambles
Just can't sleep tonight. Two pills and I'm still wide awake. Darn it. I was falling asleep watching TV - why am I awake now? My mind isn't racing; I'm not aggravated; didn't watch something exciting..........hmm I'm re-reading a book that is pretty intense. It's my second reading of it since I need to refresh my mind before the book club meeting. But I don't remember much except general outlines of the story.
I probably shouldn't be reading it until the week before the book club or I'll forget again.
Was I always this way? I've always read a lot and made no effort to memorize books unless they were going to be on a test. But as I age, I find I can re-read the same book several times and not remember who does what - or if I remember who did what, I don't remember the outcome. I guess I can just re-read the books I have then and not keep buying new books...........like that's going to happen.
The book is called "People of the Book" and it's a well written story of a Jewish Haggadah which was written in the 1600's and you follow the history of the book by virtue of stains, tears, and oddments in the cracks and crevices of the book acquired over the years and through the book's travels.
Naturally, there are plenty of disasters. To follow the history of a Jewish book means you follow the Jewish people from one disaster to another. But it is well written and you learn something of history as you read. I like the "speaker" who is a restorer of old documents - a young woman - and you learn a lot about the whole subject of historical restoration or preservation. She, the storyteller, is a quirky and complex individual and that makes her more interesting too.
I've read several books by this writer and she is good. She manages to write books that come from different perspectives and are well researched. Her husband writes too, but he's more of a raconteur given to humor or personal insights on situations.
I did like his book on reconstructing the voyages of Captain Cook, although he went astray at some point into drinking binges with his buddy rather than staying on the Captain Cook theme. One got the feeling he got bored with the Captain and lost the thread of what he was doing.
Maybe it is the story of the haggadah which got me upset. The first story is about Sarajevo where the book was seen most recently and so there is the Moslem/Serbian
outrage around it and then it slips backward into World War II. Both violent, cruel
and genocidal. Hard not to care deeply about the children mostly - the young people whose lives are endangered or destroyed by those events.
Still, I always appreciate the involvement that a good book offers. The opportunity to sit safely at home and read about the privation and suffering of others. How selfish that sounds.
But, it is one of the things that scares me. The brutal fact that at no time, and in no place is it safe to be Jewish. That other people are as brutalized as we are h istorically doesn't make me feel any better about it. The world is a harsh place for people without power.
It makes me wonder what G-d is thinking. Or whether there is a G-d who cares. I'm inclined to think not - that whatever intelligence is out there and responsible for the universe is not one that "cares" in human terms and over human lifetimes. Maybe over geologic time...........or maybe not even that.
It always makes me think of the Star Trek episode where they try out different definitions of G-d. Is He/She an immature child who creates the earth and all on it as a toy? a plaything? Has He/She created the earth and everything on it and set it in motion and He/She will be back in a few million years to see what happens? Are we then an experiement that G-d tried to instruct historically, but has given up on?
Goes to show, it's a big mistake to try and understand the mind of G-d. As I said before, any G-d I could imagine or define, is way too small. I prefer the electricity concept. G-d is always there, if we chose to "plug"into Him/Her. But the action has to come from us.
That's not very satisfying either. I always say in my OA meetings, that you just have to pray and not worry about who is listening. And that's where I have to leave my philosophizing about G-d.
My Bat Mitzvah is more of a commitment to being Jewish and connected to that history and people than a belief in G-d - even the rabbi has said that you can pray whether or not you believe. It does serve me well at this point in my life.
I wish I could have given my children a better feeling about being Jewish. I say in my Bat Mitzvah speech that my Mom taught me about being Jewish as a blessing, not a curse - but did she? She believed in G-d, she habitually called on G-d to help, to protect ....but we never "discussed" G-d. She observed the High Holy Days because it was unthinkable not to - or Shabbat - even when it was dangerous to do. But belief.......I don't know. And Uncle Sid - he bought me the comic book with all the "Old Testament" stories in it. That's where I learned about them. It was my Sunday school. Living with Mom was my education in things Jewish - it was so intrinsic to her nature - but discuss G-d, I don't think so.
Should have labeled this rambling differently. But it's where I need it to be I guess.
Shabbat Shalom
I probably shouldn't be reading it until the week before the book club or I'll forget again.
Was I always this way? I've always read a lot and made no effort to memorize books unless they were going to be on a test. But as I age, I find I can re-read the same book several times and not remember who does what - or if I remember who did what, I don't remember the outcome. I guess I can just re-read the books I have then and not keep buying new books...........like that's going to happen.
The book is called "People of the Book" and it's a well written story of a Jewish Haggadah which was written in the 1600's and you follow the history of the book by virtue of stains, tears, and oddments in the cracks and crevices of the book acquired over the years and through the book's travels.
Naturally, there are plenty of disasters. To follow the history of a Jewish book means you follow the Jewish people from one disaster to another. But it is well written and you learn something of history as you read. I like the "speaker" who is a restorer of old documents - a young woman - and you learn a lot about the whole subject of historical restoration or preservation. She, the storyteller, is a quirky and complex individual and that makes her more interesting too.
I've read several books by this writer and she is good. She manages to write books that come from different perspectives and are well researched. Her husband writes too, but he's more of a raconteur given to humor or personal insights on situations.
I did like his book on reconstructing the voyages of Captain Cook, although he went astray at some point into drinking binges with his buddy rather than staying on the Captain Cook theme. One got the feeling he got bored with the Captain and lost the thread of what he was doing.
Maybe it is the story of the haggadah which got me upset. The first story is about Sarajevo where the book was seen most recently and so there is the Moslem/Serbian
outrage around it and then it slips backward into World War II. Both violent, cruel
and genocidal. Hard not to care deeply about the children mostly - the young people whose lives are endangered or destroyed by those events.
Still, I always appreciate the involvement that a good book offers. The opportunity to sit safely at home and read about the privation and suffering of others. How selfish that sounds.
But, it is one of the things that scares me. The brutal fact that at no time, and in no place is it safe to be Jewish. That other people are as brutalized as we are h istorically doesn't make me feel any better about it. The world is a harsh place for people without power.
It makes me wonder what G-d is thinking. Or whether there is a G-d who cares. I'm inclined to think not - that whatever intelligence is out there and responsible for the universe is not one that "cares" in human terms and over human lifetimes. Maybe over geologic time...........or maybe not even that.
It always makes me think of the Star Trek episode where they try out different definitions of G-d. Is He/She an immature child who creates the earth and all on it as a toy? a plaything? Has He/She created the earth and everything on it and set it in motion and He/She will be back in a few million years to see what happens? Are we then an experiement that G-d tried to instruct historically, but has given up on?
Goes to show, it's a big mistake to try and understand the mind of G-d. As I said before, any G-d I could imagine or define, is way too small. I prefer the electricity concept. G-d is always there, if we chose to "plug"into Him/Her. But the action has to come from us.
That's not very satisfying either. I always say in my OA meetings, that you just have to pray and not worry about who is listening. And that's where I have to leave my philosophizing about G-d.
My Bat Mitzvah is more of a commitment to being Jewish and connected to that history and people than a belief in G-d - even the rabbi has said that you can pray whether or not you believe. It does serve me well at this point in my life.
I wish I could have given my children a better feeling about being Jewish. I say in my Bat Mitzvah speech that my Mom taught me about being Jewish as a blessing, not a curse - but did she? She believed in G-d, she habitually called on G-d to help, to protect ....but we never "discussed" G-d. She observed the High Holy Days because it was unthinkable not to - or Shabbat - even when it was dangerous to do. But belief.......I don't know. And Uncle Sid - he bought me the comic book with all the "Old Testament" stories in it. That's where I learned about them. It was my Sunday school. Living with Mom was my education in things Jewish - it was so intrinsic to her nature - but discuss G-d, I don't think so.
Should have labeled this rambling differently. But it's where I need it to be I guess.
Shabbat Shalom
Monday, July 26, 2010
Crybabies
This last weekend we babysat my little granddaughter, Dahlia, for the first time overnight. She knows us well as we visit her weekly and she's always happy to see us but it was the first time away from her Mommy and Daddy overnight so there was some concern.
The parents spent one night here with her in the room so that she would feel comfortable in the house - and she's been here before.
All was well during the day - we went to the park and she played in the fountains and in the sand (becoming breaded and fried). She rode on the train on my lap - I thought I'd have to call the Fire Department to unfold me. We had fun on the toys at the park - it's a VERY good park.
But, come bedtime, there were tears - searching and calling for "Mommy and Daddy" - and although I had not been worried about my ability to handle it, there was something different about Dahlia. Other kids cry "for help"; they want to be held and comforted and I'm good at that. I will rock and cuddle for hours if necessary.
Dahlia did not want to be held. Dahlia did not want to cuddle. She wanted her Mommy and Daddy. Her crying was of a private and desperate nature. She buried her head in her pillow and her little shoulders shook in her personal grief.
I cry myself as I read this because it touched something deep inside me. I, too, was a two year seperated from my Mother and though I don't remember it, I've heard stories about my screams at the train station and clinging desperately when my Mother came to visit.
I feel sure that the Sims, while good people, did not believe in coddling or cuddling a grief stricken child. I suspect, I cried in private, alone and uncomforted by anything except the promise of return my Mother made each time.
The depth of that seperation and loss was triggered by Dahlia - I doubt she was as injured as I by the whole thing - but her grief was very real and painful to watch helplessly. She just would not accept my offer of comfort - I wonder if I, too, rejected Tanta and she was not the cold Englishwoman I portray.
I'm grateful that Kelly's suggestions of bubble bath and sleeping on the futon worked because I would have had a meltdown if I had to continue to observe this little girl in her grief.
She is so adorable, such a bright and shining little personality - and she has such depths. I hope I'm around long enough to see how she's going to turn out. She may know how to manipulate people, but I doubt her skills reach the level of intensity that this incident reflected, I think you just have to believe that she was grief stricken by the seperation but the next time will be easier.
I learn a lot from watching my grandchildren (and my children) grow and change. I look for bits of myself that might show up but mostly, they are all their own people coming from the womb with personalities already in place. It is a marvel to me to see and get to know each one. To find out if they are loving, smart, playful, whatever. And naturally, because they are "mine", they are all those things and more.
Carol asked about loving a child and how consuming she was finding it. I, too, have been consumed with loving my children and grandchildren. I'm not sure if everyone feels that way - but, for me it was a surprise. I was not a child who liked to play with dolls. I had no younger siblings to love or hate and I was not around young children. So the intensity of my emotions was a surprise - and a concern - was this normal? What is normal? How do I live with this without inhaling the children? or excluding my husband? It's still a balancing act - a source of insight, but also learning about myself and how to love and let go of those I love.
But, don't kid yourself. I may let go - but I NEVER stop loving.
The parents spent one night here with her in the room so that she would feel comfortable in the house - and she's been here before.
All was well during the day - we went to the park and she played in the fountains and in the sand (becoming breaded and fried). She rode on the train on my lap - I thought I'd have to call the Fire Department to unfold me. We had fun on the toys at the park - it's a VERY good park.
But, come bedtime, there were tears - searching and calling for "Mommy and Daddy" - and although I had not been worried about my ability to handle it, there was something different about Dahlia. Other kids cry "for help"; they want to be held and comforted and I'm good at that. I will rock and cuddle for hours if necessary.
Dahlia did not want to be held. Dahlia did not want to cuddle. She wanted her Mommy and Daddy. Her crying was of a private and desperate nature. She buried her head in her pillow and her little shoulders shook in her personal grief.
I cry myself as I read this because it touched something deep inside me. I, too, was a two year seperated from my Mother and though I don't remember it, I've heard stories about my screams at the train station and clinging desperately when my Mother came to visit.
I feel sure that the Sims, while good people, did not believe in coddling or cuddling a grief stricken child. I suspect, I cried in private, alone and uncomforted by anything except the promise of return my Mother made each time.
The depth of that seperation and loss was triggered by Dahlia - I doubt she was as injured as I by the whole thing - but her grief was very real and painful to watch helplessly. She just would not accept my offer of comfort - I wonder if I, too, rejected Tanta and she was not the cold Englishwoman I portray.
I'm grateful that Kelly's suggestions of bubble bath and sleeping on the futon worked because I would have had a meltdown if I had to continue to observe this little girl in her grief.
She is so adorable, such a bright and shining little personality - and she has such depths. I hope I'm around long enough to see how she's going to turn out. She may know how to manipulate people, but I doubt her skills reach the level of intensity that this incident reflected, I think you just have to believe that she was grief stricken by the seperation but the next time will be easier.
I learn a lot from watching my grandchildren (and my children) grow and change. I look for bits of myself that might show up but mostly, they are all their own people coming from the womb with personalities already in place. It is a marvel to me to see and get to know each one. To find out if they are loving, smart, playful, whatever. And naturally, because they are "mine", they are all those things and more.
Carol asked about loving a child and how consuming she was finding it. I, too, have been consumed with loving my children and grandchildren. I'm not sure if everyone feels that way - but, for me it was a surprise. I was not a child who liked to play with dolls. I had no younger siblings to love or hate and I was not around young children. So the intensity of my emotions was a surprise - and a concern - was this normal? What is normal? How do I live with this without inhaling the children? or excluding my husband? It's still a balancing act - a source of insight, but also learning about myself and how to love and let go of those I love.
But, don't kid yourself. I may let go - but I NEVER stop loving.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
