Instinct vs Trust

 I just finished this uproariously funny book. Do yourselves a favor and get it; “Intimacy Idiot” by Isaac Oliver. It is snarky, sardonic gay wit at its utmost observant and honest. The book is described as if “David Sedaris and Fran Lebowitz” had a baby. Um, DONE AND DONE. I don’t know if those names make you as excited as they make me, but let’s put it this way; I’d carry both their children. And they’re both very gay. Oliver regales us with tales about navigating the murky, whack waters of New York male single life, hysterical clips of his childhood, and poetic subway homages. In between the full bodied laughter convulsions, both in private and very much in public, there are bursts of seriousness and insight into the human condition. A topic, that if you read my shizz often, you know fascinates me.

As I’ve become a student of self study in order to reroute my life (you can’t take the car on a road trip if it has no gas and a busted tire), I am hungry for anything I can learn to further understand myself. There is almost nothing as gratifying as when I hear the wonderful feedback from my readers, telling me how helpful and supportive my posts are. I write for myself as well as for you. Equal parts journeying within while simultaneously reaching out. This is why writing to share feels like a complete relationship for me. It’s perhaps why the sad, crappy poetry I wrote for years wasn’t satisfying. I do have some poems and lyrics I’m proud of, but it’s all pretty much stuff I’d never share. And I’m a sharer (duh).

One of my favorite lines in the book is about a going off the rails Grindr date he’s on. The other dude was trying to “get him to comply” with certain things that Oliver was resistant to, with good reason. So an argument ensued. The date was trying to pitch “you can trust me, follow your instincts”, the reply to which was, “instincts are immediate, trust is revealed with time and evidence”. I don’t think I have ever really distinguished the two. I was struck with the difference and how accurate that sentence was. At a time in my life where I am constantly striving towards honing both instinct and trust within myself, this is a crucial piece of information. The first step to self knowledge is well, actual knowledge. This is very applicable to my new dating life. Since I am a connector, I will almost always have great initial communication and chemistry with a guy. I am a champion conversationalist and such an optimist. Not a blind optimist, though there are times where I’m missing things that should be clearer to me, but as I always write about, I fully welcome what the universe places in front of me. So I give it my all. I am learning that while my instincts tell me a man looks like incredible relationship material, I cannot yet trust that to be the case. That indeed must be revealed with time and evidence.

I have met men who have wanted to use me as a reality show storyline, men who lied about their professions (seriously???), men who freaked out because they had their own trust issues, and men who are intimidated by the fact that I’m a strong, multifaceted, driven woman. Er... too bad, Loser. Keep moving. I have had good instincts about each and every one. I was incorrect. While I was right about the energy ( I am an energy ninja), both time and evidence in fact revealed these dudes could not be trusted with me or my life. It’s a tough pill to swallow. It makes me feel vulnerable and mishandled. I usually feel bummed, whether that lasts weeks or five minutes. The wallowing is decreasing big time, since time and evidence has in fact proven that I do know who I can trust; God.

Last night I was supposed to go on a date I was excited for. Several circumstances caused him to cancel, and I was upset. That night I instead attended a high profile corporate event a friend was hosting. While there, I found the one empty chair and in five minutes became BFF with this incredibly successful, connected woman. She immediately wanted to hire me to DJ her upcoming 50th birthday party. Since I hadn’t gone on the date, I was in the right place and time to meet her. Things like this blow my mind. The proof is here, my Friends. Give it time and you will get your evidence. Honor your instincts, yes. They are so special. They tell us when we are in danger. They confirm when we are madly in love. But they aren’t enough. They are partners with trust. The two components are like the Odd Couple that take up residence in your gut. Get to know them both, then introduce your gut to your heart. Stay on a course that travels upward, and open your third 👁. Stay in alignment by working to keep all these channels open and connected. It’s the most important work you’ll ever do. Ace your self study. If you fail, ok. You’re human. Success only exists because failure does too, otherwise there’s no marked differentiation. But fail with the purpose of making corrections to kick ass next time.

I believe in you. ❤️, Me

In Search of Talia

I am forever amazed at the power that social media has to connect us;  to ideas, people, opportunities, and knowledge we’d be otherwise unexposed to. I am a bold follower, in the sense that I have no reservations about reaching out to someone I admire. If they don’t respond, that’s their prerogative, but I need to honor my need to try and connect. I’ll only regret it if I stuff that need down below and squelch it. When we fight healthy urges to connect and share, we send a message to ourselves that our feelings/thoughts don’t matter enough to be aired. This causes a domino effect of other bad feelings. Sure, I’ve been unanswered (it’s all good, Steven Tyler). I was once in contact with this yogi who lives in Bali. She was running a retreat on an elephant sanctuary that sounded wonderful. Once I realized I couldn’t make those dates, and that I might be scared shitless to ride an 🐘, I never heard from her again. I had at that point spilled my guts (of course), so it was an important disappointing moment. One I needed to learn. Needless to say, I then unfollowed her since her behavior didn’t feel very yogic to me anymore. It’s cool; lesson learned. It’s so funny how hitting the “unfollow” button feels like a 👆🏽. When it really is a kind of “no thank you”. It cracks me up when we hear of it in the sense of, “ I REALLY showed her. I unfollowed her”. It’s all part of the ridiculousness that social media breeds, but humorous nonetheless. None of it matters.

What matters are indeed those beautiful connections we make. It’s how I met Shiffy, the Mumbai blogger, how I met a whole bunch of DJ mentors and friends, old friends to reconnect with, artists, poets, inspirational guides, spiritual guides, authors, and yogis. The people I have been drawn to, and have drawn back to me, have been massively influential in my life. One such human is @talia_sutra, an Israeli yogi from Tel Aviv. As a writer, I pay close attention to the content of the posts. The words, messages, and feelings. There are tons of yogis who can post impressive shots of handstands on a cliff, but they’re not interesting to me if there is no wise, pure message underneath that picture. I don’t need proof you can contort yourself physically; I need the metaphor and spiritual guidance attached to the asana. I need what the heart is telling me through each movement. When I say “need” I mean it. There are accounts I follow that seriously get me through some of the biggest battles in my mind. If I go to sleep uneasy, I’ll wake up uneasy. It’s not healthy to start the first second of your day off with a screen, but if I’m feeling unsteady I’ll reach for my phone, take a quick glance at Mark Groves @createthove, @talia_sutra, @sahdguru, @mooji.official, and let their soothing words calm me down and lift me up.

Back to Talia. She is so pretty, and is a master yogi. She has a lovely husband, an adorable baby, and an incredibly interesting travel schedule that takes her all over the world to teach. She could easily maintain an IG account on the coattails of those facts. Pictures, stories etc She’s a spokesmodel for Alo, films tons of classes for Cody app, and has hundreds of thousands of followers. If she wrote nothing but nonsense like “Happy Monday!”, her account would totally remain afloat. But this is not who she is, and that’s why I love her. Talia is clearly a worker who has dedicated her life to being a spiritual teacher in the purest sense. There is an incredible depth to her words. Her messages and captions speak to the core and essence of the human condition. She gets us, and we need her. Talia doesn’t pretend to be above sinking just like the rest of us. She’s honest about her own struggles. There are so many super popular yoga-lebrities who just spit  overly positive platitudes while modeling their new comped leggings. Don’t tell me to always be positive; I can’t. Life is harder than that. Don’t tell me to breathe; I know that already and it’s not that simple. Speak to the epicenter of my pain and teach me to rise the hell out of it. Remind me I am loved and bolstered by the unseen, and that truly calling upon my ability to love will lead me to my destination. Calm my fears with assurance, not a cheer. I’m smart, I want the real stuff. If you’re a messenger then please send me the message. I’m waiting and willing to receive it.

Talia’s tag line is “love and all is coming”. After discovering her and reading this, because it felt so real and true, I probably tell myself this two dozen times a day. But my favorite was a picture of her in a deep backbend next to red rocks, I think in Petra, and she wrote, “Surrender, like rock to the sand”. I read that in a time in my life where I had to release control and trust the unknown. That is frightening for us humans, to not know the outcome. We don’t like not knowing where we’re going. I’m so in touch with nature, and am truly moved by all the elements, so the visual of rock melding into sand, and vice versa, instantly calmed me. It’s a partnership of the earth. There is not an hour that goes by that I don’t self soothe with that phrase.

This past Passover was a very hard time for me. I felt lonely, shaky, and adrift. I had found a yoga studio in Miami that became my home every day, Green Monkey. I’d sit and read at this coffee shop nearby after class, and do the IG thing. I had this urge to reach out to Talia so I emailed her. I was honest about the tough time I was having, gave her a brief background of my Megillah, and told her I’d love to DJ her classes, and that I’m coming to Tel Aviv in the summer. I seriously cried when I got her response email; connection just feels so good. It’s knowing someone got your message in a bottle and internalized your SOS. So recently, on my beautiful trip to the Holy Land, Talia and I were again in touch. She was so gracious in wanting to meet me. On a Friday while I was buying vegan, homemade soaps at the Nachalat Binyamin crafts market, Talia was two blocks away. I shlepped my friend James, and we met her in a park nearby. I was beyond excited. It’s like meeting a singer whose lyrics mean so much to you. As I saw this little, glowing fairy 🧚‍♀️ walking towards me, I burst into tears (jeez, can I stop crying already??). Just seeing her in person was so impactful. This woman had lifted me up so much since I came upon her. I don’t take that lightly. The gratitude I have for anyone who is there for me in any pure sense is overwhelming. It’s proof that as spirits having a human experience, all we need is to connect at our core (“makor” in Hebrew). Connect to ourselves, to each other. The tools are built into the very architectural design of our making. The ability to forge these connections lives within every single one of is. I’m not special because I reached out; I just did it. The word “sutra” is Sanskrit for suture, or stitch. We are all stitched and sewn together, creating this never ending tapestry of humanity. Which is why feeling connections to complete strangers, whether it’s via IG or simply at a bus stop, feels good. It’s because we are in alignment when we connect. It’s why strangers find it easier to spill their guts to each other, more so than to someone they know. It’s not because you don’t know them, it’s because you DO.

Underneath the body jacket we are all the same. We all love our children, we all need to eat, we all need physical affection, we all feel scared sometimes. The list obviously goes on because it’s true. Sometimes, all we need to lean into our god given ability to connect is an email address or an IG handle. I feel so close to Talia. Meeting her was life affirming. We can see people every day who don’t enhance our lives, or we can meet someone once (or never) who stays with you forever. Talia, thank you for teaching me to surrender like rock to the sand, and for filling me with so much light. I listened to you; I loved and indeed it all came, in that park in Tel Aviv.

Todah. Namaste🙏🏻❤️☀️🧚‍♀️

Feeling Like Nothing To Feel Like Everything

Things I don’t feel like at this very moment:

A single woman.

A fixer. 

A cook.

An ex wife.

A DJ.

A fashionista. 

A joker.

A strategist. 

A planner.

An effort putter.

An Uber orderer.

A homework checker. 

A caption writer.

A music set builder.

A job connector.

A house manager.

A nurse.

A snack carrier.

A dieter.

An early riser.

A blogger.

A scene writer.

An email responder.

A text editor.

A phone call ignorer.

A caretaker.

A camp counselor.

An organizer.

An anticipator.

An assumer.                         

Things I do feel like:

A mermaid.

A beach bum.

A wanderer.

A feeler.

A friend.

A roommate.

A laundry hanger.

An eater.

A smiler.

An element of nature.

An appreciator.

A radiant source of light.

A glower.         

Must this all be determined by geography...?

-Written on the beach in Israel 

Keep It Moving ; Part 1

I have a new friend 👏🏻. His name is Eitan Barokas, and he’s an artist. I was introduced to him through a mutual friend (thanks, BR), and it was one of those meetings when the energy instantly clicks. Eitan is in his early 20’s, and I love experiencing when true connection defies age. Numbers become irrelevant, and since so much of our lives demands the involvement of numbers (money, time, measurements, airplane flight info etc), it’s refreshing when anything calcuolatory goes out the window. It certainly is for this numbers impaired gal. 

I wanted to meet Eitan for a few reasons.  One, I’m out the gate supportive of Jewish artists of any kind, especially a young one who isn’t blindly going down the mind numbing path of, “my uncle is calling in a favor to the accounting firm to get me a job”.  There is risk in art as a source of livelihood; it’s potentially inconsistent.  So when a person is aware of their calling at a young age, and pursues that to honor their spirit and life’s purpose, it’s such an inspiring example to the rest of us.  This is a much smarter move than squelching your passion, only to wake up decades later and freak the F out that you are wasting your heart/life.  Statistically, it’s not possible that a chunk of “middle aged” people I know don’t wrestle with hidden dreams.  Life is so deeply painful that way. It’s such a gift to know your truth early on.

Secondly, the philosophy behind Eitan’s work is “Keep It Moving”, which is what I propel myself towards every day. Sometimes the flow of life is easy to lean into, other times it feels brutal.  Like you just can’t.  It’s amazing how we can be so knocked down emotionally and mentally, to the point where even standing hurts.  We collapse under the weight of so many things.  It’s a battle to dig ourselves out.  But there’s really no choice; the alternative to motion is stagnation.  Stillness, as in yogic stillness, is different.  When one is “still” they are floating towards enlightenment, despite appearing statue like.  To be stagnant is to be trapped and not get out.  Eitan’s underlying premise to his work is so positive; keep going.  Don’t ever give up.  There’s no encouraging of denial here, not pretending life is a picnic. B ut there’s so much good to be seen and felt.  Notice it, cling to it, and don’t stop.  It’s like in Finding Nemo when in order to rescue himself, Nemo chanted “just keep swimming” (or was it Dory🐠?).

Our minds are so powerful. Even when the body wants nothing more than to collapse, the mind can direct us to keep it moving.  Eitan is a super lovely, positive soul.  The bright, happy colors he uses in his work clearly reflects a guy who means what he paints.  Eitan does a lot of abstract pieces, but my favorites are his people.  Often wearing a shirt and tie, facial expression open to interpretation, I feel these peeps represent ennui in the stale rat race routine of life.  Yet the vibrancy of the colors prove that we are surrounded by beauty at any given moment.  These characters want more, and it is within their stream of consciousness.  The magic of life is within their reach.  Isn’t this what great artists do; inspire and encourage us?  I happen to not react to a lot of art, which I’ve said before.  But I strongly reacted to Eitan’s work as a result of his unshakable philosophy.  Insta bond.

When I first met him at a gallery showing in downtown New York, it was like “oh, there’s my friend”.  Clear, connective energy will always unite Creatives.  It’s a Tribe with our own language, and I’m so grateful to be a part of it.  Life feels richer.  Yes, our increased sensitivity can knock the shit out of us.  The breadth of feelings can be hard to take.  But we keep it moving, because truthfully, there’s no other choice. Movement is something we owe ourselves, but we need the permission to give it.  We do not learn to honor ourselves that way.  Any form of self care is seen as selfish.  Through his art, the artist not only conveys it is your right, but your responsibility as a human.  Because when we move we learn, and we reach new heights of living and understanding, which can in turn give back to our fellow man.  We are all a collective. Let’s move together.

I truly suggest looking up Eitan on Instagram @eitan.don  These bursts of social media inspiration often get us through the day. They connect us to a whole other human who has insight we need. Eitan loves to inspire; take him up on it. Part 2 of this post soon to come, detailing a Blaga field trip to the art studio. Being in the epicenter of someone’s creativity is such a treat. I get to breathe in pure emotion, then exhale it to y’all. Or as Eitan himself says, “ the Squad”. 

Camp Grounds 🏕

Can I talk about summer camp for a minute?  I sent my son off to sleep away camp for seven weeks. He went with all his friends, and he was bouncing off the walls with excitement. This is how the majority of orthodox Jewish kids in the Tristate area spend their summers, to the point where it’s deemed “weird” if a kid doesn’t go. Statistically it’s not possible that every single child wants to go and likes it. But there is a definite unfair social stigma that’s assumed if a kid doesn’t like it/can’t hack it. It’s bizarre; every parent seems to know where children in other families are going, as in to which of the several camps is so and so sending their kids to. Why they may have left a previous camp. Why they didn’t have a great time, were they bullied, did they get caught doing something forbidden. The amount of information that doesn’t pertain to our own lives in the least, and is casually and arrogantly tosses around in “adult” conversations, is staggering. Who cares what anyone else chooses to do during their summer? It’s this constant need to be a social authority on all goings on in the neighborhood. Such is life in any suburban fishbowl. It’s not unique to where I live, it’s just what I see in front of me. What’s truly material for social satirization in these conversations, is the inevitable need parents have to justify why they chose one camp over another. IT. ALWAYS. HAPPENS. Predictable and stereotypical social scenarios amuse me to no end. It provides me with a steady stream of content for all the SNL skits I’m constantly crafting in my head. I’ve had decades long fantasies about sitting in that famous writers room, cranking out wacky ideas and making people laugh. So I really welcome actual humans who behave as caricatures.

Basically, if I know you, and you sound like a jerk listing the pros and cons of your kid’s chosen school/camp/after school basketball program/sneakers, then I’m already casting you as I nod apathetically and plan my escape (FYI a scratched up Toyota Sienna makes a nifty getaway car). Listen, I’ve been plenty guilty of the above in my past identity, which is why I’m hyper sensitive to the undertones of such discussions. I’ve been on both sides of the bullshit neighborhood wall. I get it. I get where it comes from. Only now I know better. And as Oprah says, “when you know better you do better”(I’m pretty sure it was Oprah but if it’s not we can credit her anyway).     

The real reason for this post is not the above. It came from the nagging guilt I have about shipping my kids off for the whole summer. I, like all parents, look forward to a much needed break from planning, scheduling, driving, making 4 different dinners, and homework. Btw, any parent that claims to not look forward to some freedom is lying. I do know a few moms who pathologically seem to be lost without the presence of their children. Who have no idea how to get through a day that’s not maniacally shaped by errands and routine. It’s very scary to feel adrift, so I truly have sympathy. I too spent many summers where I felt it was as boring and not special as the rest of the year, the only difference being I was in a tank top. There’s so much pressure to “have a great summer” and it’s a let down when it doesn’t turn out that way. Which is why most women I know freak out when it’s over and school begins. It feels like a wasted opportunity. It feels like you didn’t capitalize on a precious few weeks of freedom. Panic sets in. Again, been there. Last year when school started, it was the first year I didn’t feel that dread; because I don’t place all hope on one season anymore. I now know that all year is great. I can and will fully take advantage of my life 365 days a year.     

But back to the guilt. There is definitely something unnatural about the way our kids live their lives, being apart from us almost all year. It feels antithetical to the point of having children. They’re so scheduled, regimented, and not with us. Not that I want to home school them or not have time to cultivate my own existence, but it eats at my core that as soon as they return home from something we are packing them up and sending them off again. There has to be more room for relaxed, soft bonding and family time. Old school, quality family time. Without technology, without friends, without distractions. Focused, sweet togetherness. I know this is highly cultural. Folks that aren’t familiar with the sleep away camp system think it’s insane. I went to camp my whole life, and loved it. I was a camper for six years then a counselor at the beloved, defunct Camp Hillel. Omg the Dirty Dancing lake scene was filmed there!!!!!!   

Camp is a fantastic social exercise. We need to teach ourselves at a very young age how to navigate a smorgasbord of social situations. How to camouflage that I peed in my bed (true story), do I suck my thumb in front of my bunk mates at the age of 13 (yes), do I shower if there’s no hot water (maybe), do I let the smelly girl borrow my clothes so as not to be rude (not if I can come up with a viable excuse). Bunkmates live together, have crushes together, menstruate together, bicker, cry, emote, feel shame/confusion/joy together, have to comfort one another, and on the best days, mudslide and laugh our asses off together. WITH NO PARENTS!!!! So maybe just as parents need our freedom, so do they.

I am a huge believer of imparting the message to my kids that I trust them to know how to handle themselves. I believe in them. I trust they will make friends, function in a group, be flexible in said group, and work their way in and out of social pitfalls. I trust they’ll respect authority. I trust they’ll participate and use manners. I trust they’ll be an asset to the dynamic. I never had a kid who cried getting on the camp bus. I’ve always been proud of how well adjusted they’ve been socially. That behavior comes from a foundation of security, and it is gratifying for me to see them handle themselves well. But I wonder, does any part of them think I don’t want to be with them over the summer? This has to be insulting. Summer memories are special; shouldn’t we create some together? And not just on visiting day🙄. I once heard a parent say that she’d rather an extra Yom Kippur than have Visiting Day😂. Love the honesty, Sister!

So I’m doing something this summer I’ve always wanted to do but never have; I’m taking them away for a week to California after everyone comes back from their various programs. Finally, the quality time I’ve always longed for. So many men say they can’t take off of work to travel with their families over the summer. I hate that. When there’s a will there’s a way, always. The most involved dads I know who travel the most with their children, have the least financial resources. They figure it out, they make it work because it’s important and worth it. No one will care about the extra days or hours spent in the office. It’s bullshit when men say “I can’t leave work”. Can’t or won’t? There are always reasons to not do things, but there are more reasons to do them.    Life is balance, and while I love how much my children do enjoy their summer programs, I’m also really trying to create memories with them with just each other.       

I’ll finish with this. The social bonds that have the potential to be formed and cemented during camp are very special. When I knew I was about to enter into this new chapter of no longer being married, my first phone calls were to two of my camp friends. One I met when I was 10 in camp Hillel. The other at 15 on a teen tour, the same teen tour my daughters  went on. I had not been in regular contact with either for decades, but my instincts and history with them sent me flying back to them as I was jumping off a cliff. I knew they’d catch me, as they had many times when we were kids. J and L❤️❤️ you know who you are. When you know you know, and sometimes the friendships that give you the most require the least. They exist without effort. They become fact in your life, and they are true because they are real. No added preservatives. If camp can give my children friendships like these, then it will all have been worth it.

More or Less

One of my new life goals is to “do more with less”. I saw this quote on IG a few months ago and loved it. I wanted to commit to this idea. As I’ve carefully scrutinized the relationship between needing to obsessively acquire material things to trick yourself into feeling satisfied, I have become increasingly protective of my inner peace. Meaning, I am at the place where I will fiercely guard the purity of my mental, spiritual, and emotional state. Emotional states are the most interesting of the bunch; sometimes we just need to release our emotions into the Wild West, let them go bonkers, then wait for them to return home for dinner. Emotions are like wayward children with wild streaks ; they just need to air themselves out occasionally. Which means that I have learned to “guard” my feelings by doing the opposite: un-guarding them. This gives me the freedom to feel whatever is needed to be felt with no self judgement or restraint. That alone is major.         

I’m writing this right now on a beach in Tel Aviv. This is the fourth summer in a row I’ve come here, the first time I’m not alone, the first time I’m not in a fancy hotel, and the first time I flew economy (I know; break out the tears and violins). It is also the first time I’m truly at peace and having this much fun. I am traveling with three friends. We range in age from 24 to 40. We are three chicks and one guy. Some of us met here in the Air BNB, while others have known each other for over ten years. All of us are fun, easy going, kind, and intelligent. We are all independent yet function beautifully as a group. I’m the only Jew amongst Italians; another first for me.

Um, newsflash: this is an irrelevant fact I almost didn’t remember to include here. It’s just been a noteworthy part of my personal trajectory.

We are sharing laughs, conversation, clothing, food, toothpaste, and one key. We are hanging wet laundry on a clothesline on our sun drenched porch. This I particularly love, for no other reason than it just feels good and simple to have the sun warm what I’m putting on my body. One of the girls and I are sharing a bed. I like being physically close to people, so I’m cool with that. In high school nine of us would pile in a bed at the end of some silly, teenage night. Those are some of my fondest memories. I’ve always been a homie like that. It’s just fun. It feels communal, close, and connective. It’s amazing how we can over complicate things to the point where we ruin our own experiences. Details can destroy the essence of the moment.  We easily suffocate situations before they are given a chance to take the first breath. As I was telling my new friend Olivia about my background, I said that coming to Tel Aviv every year has been like marking off my height on a wall. These trips have very clearly symbolized major leaps in growth. She loved that analogy, and so did I. It was the first time I’d thought of my life in those terms. It was an interesting comparison.

I was here in November too, and I am amazed at the shit I put up with then while I was here. People, scenarios, and situations that I allowed into my life just a few months ago. Things I wouldn’t entertain for a nanosecond today. I’ve learned so much about how to safeguard myself. What I need and want out of life, how to show up for myself, and what that includes and will absolutely not include. I did not learn these things in my 20’s so I’m learning them now. Education has no time line or time limit. Every lesson feels good. What I’m contemplating right now is the definition of “more vs less”, the basis for this post. When I read that quote on IG, I obviously knew it was a money based idea. I liked it: spend less and need less, but live more. Collect experiences and not things. Life can be enjoyed “with less”. Ok, sure I want that. I can do it. But as I woke up today in an empty apartment (Olivia and James went to Petra, and Federica had already hit the beach), taking my time getting up and gathering my hot towels and bikini off the porch, I was struck with how the typical definitions of “more” and “less” are so inaccurate. It made me chuckle in its “duh” clarity. I had been defining those words incorrectly for so long now, along with most of the world. As I always say, it feels good to be wrong.

On my one block walk to the beach I thought, I am not in a high end hotel but I’m really enjoying sharing this experience with my friends. I have less obvious amenities but am having more fun. I have less maid service but am gaining more enjoyment from having that not matter. I have less privacy but more good company. I have less loneliness and more love. I have less deafening silence and more laughter. I have less self imposed pressure to entertain myself and more fun plans with excellent humans. I have less strategizing about how to spend my time and more ease. I had way less room on the airplane but more satisfaction in not giving a shit. I had less luggage and more simplicity. You get the idea, and so do I. Less confusion and more clarity. Less unrest and more peace. Making more good decisions means having to justify the bad ones less.  One of the truths we all claim to know but don’t put into practice,  is that often the people with the “most” have the “least”, because there’s just not enough superficial stuff in the world to fill any kind of inner void. It’s a bottomless need. A hole in a heart will never be properly soothed that way.

Honestly, more things lead to more problems. Think of how all one needs to cement a beautiful memory into permanence is laughter. Right? You’ll always remember that time you and a friend laughed until you peed. You’ll probably forget which designer made those sunglasses though. Your heart is busy, Man. It keeps you alive. It’s more selective than the mind. It’s the last thing to go when we die. It can’t be fooled. The heart knows what it needs to hold onto to feel fulfilled and genuinely happy. While the head is frantically trying to justify spending on the fanciest suite in the hotel (proof of a seemingly successful trip), the heart is content hanging itself on the simplicity of the outdoor clothesline. Sharing experiences with quality people always feels yummy. I love being by myself too, but I’ve done that for a very long time. It’s losing its appeal. I’m good at it since I’ve had no choice. It is a skill I’ve honed since childhood. I’m proud to be a fully functioning woman. However lately I need less proof of that, which is slowly leading me to more... And that knowledge is enough for me right now. No more, no less. No competition amongst words and their meanings. No tug of war. When you know you’re right the need to prove others wrong evaporates. When you feel truly full your hunger wanes. When your travels take you to the right places you are home.

Script Keeper

So I’m doing it again. A lot. Non stop. And by that I’m mean furiously writing scripts in my head for the future. Conversations, speeches, and interactions that I want to take place. I imagine every detail of these scenarios, from the carefully placed pauses to tears and laughter. It’s not good, and it’s an addiction that’s stemming from expectation and hope. The most dangerous part to that is that I am easily setting myself up for massive disappointment. Overall I have become soooooo much better at being good to myself through all the hundreds  of decisions we make during every waking moment.

We don’t realize it, but every single thing we do throughout our time awake is the direct result of choices. What we eat, wear, who we will talk to, who we will ignore, what time we leave the house, how we will spend the next two minutes, what we will think about, what we refuse to deal with, when will we check Instagram, will we decide to be patient with our kids, what to make for dinner, to what extent will we get aggravated or choose peace, etc. The list is literally endless. It only ends when we are asleep, and are pulled into the unconscious abyss. Even falling asleep can involve decisions. If the mind just can’t calm down and the untamed thoughts are still bouncing off the walls of the brain, we have to decide to climb out of that. Some decide to take a sleeping pill, while others may say screw it and flip on the tv. I sometimes decide between the sleeping pill or just choosing to accept that I may not fall asleep, and I’ll just be tired the next day (I go in and out of the Ambien thing. I want to be permanently out, but sometimes I need to outsource the shutting down. Or so I think I do.). I actually find peace in the latter; not getting apprehensive about lack of sleep. Being less attached to time and how we are conditioned to spend it. Not everything has to be set in stone. Obviously, sleep is extremely important. But so is peace of mind and not resorting to pharmaceuticals. And let’s say that is one of those sleepless nights, do I still wake up at 5:45 for sunrise yoga and get in a much needed spiritual practice? Decisions, decisions.

Our poor brains are always on overdrive. Recently I’ve been making a lot of decisions about boundaries, a skill I’m admittedly just learning. I am a giver to the fullest. This means that over the entire course of my life I have been taken from; spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and physically. I am thrilled and grateful to be a giver. It’s what we are designed for, which is why it feels right to me. Until it starts to feel wrong and I’m stuck in a pattern which ultimately leads to my own depletion. Self care is not about manicures. Self care is about really taking care of the precious inner self. This was a concept I had to really learn. I cognitively understood it before I truly internalized it. I’d honestly say there was a year gap between the two. Conditioned to just put up with so much shit, all the while still giving, the notion of true boundaries was a language I didn’t speak. I never had a problem with self love. I’ve always been centered and secure within myself. Poor decisions I made never stemmed from insecurity or a lack of confidence. Which is why I didn’t think I wasn’t taking care of myself properly. It drove me crazy with confusion when certain people that I admire and seek advice from would tell me I need to love myself more. I couldn’t accept that, since I already do. But as is true with every relationship, love isn’t enough. There is so much more required, especially in your relationship with yourself. Care, gentleness, patience, compassion, kindness, sympathy, and acceptance are just a few examples of things we strive to give to others, forgetting or just never learning that we need those things too.

I hate the self righteous martyrdom aspect of “proudly” giving to everyone else at the expense of oneself. Why is that a point of pride? I used to pull that card, and trust me, it’s a road to nowhere. No one is happy as a doormat.  I think people say that out of hidden resentment. It’s justifying feeling neglected and having your needs not met. It’s a message to yourself that your needs don’t matter. It leads to unhealthy build up. The same is true with the boundary thing. Without them, we slowly and resentfully erode. And what boundaries are is really just good decision making. Do I continue to allow that hurtful person into my life, even though I did for so many years? Do I enter into an emotional situation that could very well railroad me down the line? Do I overextend myself and promise to be in two places at once? Do I keep remaining angrily quiet or disrespected by someone?

Now that I’ve entered the dating scene, that invites numerous boundary setting opportunities. To whom do I give my time and energy? If I’m certain I have no future with someone, do I bother having conversations with that person? If I am interested in someone, then physical boundaries need to be set. It’s interesting that while all these added decisions can feel overwhelming, they are actually the road to liberation. The more boundaries I set, the more free I feel. Once my protection system is in place, I can find ease within these beautiful, safe gates I’ve created for myself. That’s very much a yogic idea; finding ease in your strength. Once you have achieved a solid foundation, relax into it. We are these limitless beings of vast expansiveness, lacking restraint and restrictions. However we are simultaneously highly contained and compartmentalized.

So which is it? Do we love freely and openly or do we set limits and boundaries? Do we manifest and envision so we can ultimately bring that into reality, or do we remain in the now, knowing the future isn’t real?

This last question goes back to how I began this post; my feverish script writing. What I’m doing needs to stop. Clinging to something that may never be does not serve me well. Dialogues I need to have may never leave my head, and dreams I want to come true may come true in ways I’m not yet aware of. What I have recently learned is this: the decisions I make now and the boundaries I set, minute to minute, create a healthy present, which will undoubtedly lead to a healthy future. Every single thing we decide upon will naturally create our story. The story we want. My former lack of boundaries led to experiences I did not want. I had to rework my entire Jessica infrastructure in order to get different results. Different choices lead to a different story, and boundaries are what shape the chapters.

This is a new discovery for me. I was at a fork in the road not long ago. Choose one direction or the other. No middle roads. One choice would have led me down the wrong path, the other choice might take me where I need to go. Both choices were difficult, both paths were rocky, so it wasn’t an easy, clear answer.  But one path was in the vein of me setting a boundary within myself, even from a discipline standpoint. It was a discipline I need very much, so it felt good to invite myself into that place. Existing within boundaries can feel very uncomfortable at first, since it’s unfamiliar. I’m not used to holding myself back. I’m used to going after what I want, making things happen. But I’m finding comfort in the discomfort, one of the first things my teacher, Betsy, taught our class. What a brilliant concept; allowing for discomfort, working through pain knowing it’s finite. Nothing is permanent. Energy always changes.  Situations change. People grow. Life is fluid, never linear. We draw lines to really give ourselves more wiggle room. Fear nothing, even the undesired outcome. It’s ok to not know. We don’t decide to know; we decide to be ok with not knowing.

I love this Deepak Chopra saying that if we embrace uncertainty than we can never be disappointed. Wow. Scary, but wow. The fear lies in how accustomed we are to only feeling safe in predictability. But that’s really contradictory since we’d only feel safe in one  certain result that we try to manipulate into being. We can’t fathom dealing with the result we are sure we don’t want. Therefore, getting to a place where we are ok with simply not knowing, where the only thing we know is that we will be safe and fine no matter what, eliminates tremendous fear. And it eliminates the need for script writing, which brings us back to the story that is happening now. And what is happening now for me is that I feel stronger, safer, and more connected every day. This makes me smile. The End...The Beginning...

The Power of Neosporin

 Isn’t it impactful when seemingly unimportant instances turn into lessons? When the mundane ascends to metaphor? A few weeks ago I got this deep, nasty cut on my right thumb. It bled like crazy, and it was a giant pain in the ass. After all, what’s a blogger to do without her typing thumb? I put on several bandaids to stop the bleeding, but I otherwise ignored it. I didn’t want to focus on the negative so as not to expand it. My thumb really hurt and the bleeding lasted a couple days. I really didn’t want to go to a doctor to see if it needed stitching up; mothers don’t have time for that. We are so busy taking care of the rest of the household, so unless we are bleeding to death we will probably neglect ourselves (old story).

Getting myself looked at was just another thing to do that I didn’t have time for. So I left it alone. Spoiler alert: it did not get better. My thumb on day three was a shriveled, white mess. Lack of care, lack of air. I couldn’t air it out since the wound was too deep. There was still throbbing but I guess I got used to it, and I learned how to text and deftly apply makeup, thereby working around it. Such a mom thing, right? Working around it. Incorporating new, crappy facts and powering forward. But on day five I figured I might as well put on some Neosporin. There was a significant improvement overnight. The cut was almost closed up, and I was shocked at the difference. I stared at my thumb for awhile and thought about how badly we want to heal. How ready we are to get better. We just need and crave the help. From the mind that makes a joke during shiva as a coping skill,  to the flesh that cries out for over the counter antibiotic ointment, every part of us, when given proper care and attention, will begin to improve. I kept thinking how quickly my thumb responded to such a minor tweak. If only I had done that sooner, I’d have avoided extra pain and discomfort. This metaphor blew me away.

So many people have been asking me lately how I launched myself into this new chapter, leaving behind a lot of pain and discomfort in the greater sense. The question here is almost more important than the answer, because anyone asking is hungry for change. The need to make radical shifts in our lives creates a deep, raw hole. Those acknowledging their holes are ready to pick up the shovel, even if they aren’t fully aware of that. In the Passover Seder we speak of the Four Sons. The youngest son doesn’t even know how to or what to ask about the story of the Exodus, because he’s too ignorant to formulate the questions. Therefore, if you’re baseline asking, that’s a really good sign. The key is to honor your question, and not to ignore it thinking it will just go away, like I did initially with my cut. Most things don’t heal entirely on their own. They require attention, love, compassion, gentleness, and awareness. The Neosporin was right there in my medicine cabinet. Healing was available to me had I sought it out. Once I did seek it, my thumb was repaired. It’s astounding how as a survival tactic, we accept lousy circumstances. Our minds shut down and life can take on a robotic quality. It’s scary and daunting to shake things up. Eventually we can lose the unhappiness that comes attached to that, and life just feels like this numb routine. I used to wonder “is this it?”

Many of my friends have expressed the same thing lately. If you’re asking that’s a direct sign you want more, and that there’s a tiny seed inside you fighting to grow against complacency. I don’t have all the answers. I can be an ear and a shoulder, but I know what worked for me. We all want someone else to make it okay for us, to soothe us and hand us the instruction manual. But as only we can know what’s going on in our heads, only we can provide the answers. I’m very grateful in that I have always known I wanted to write and live through music. But until I shakily called Scratch DJ Academy and started the blog, I had no idea I’d ever make something of myself in either of those areas. They felt like lofty, impractical goals. I didn’t realize they were necessary to become my lifelines. Yoga and meditation continue to peel back layers and reaffirm my purpose. No one will argue against meditation in that sense. I believe it’s the key to life. We can’t possibly live a life detached from our inner selves. Who cares if it’s hard to sit still at first? It’s a lot harder to feel adrift and lost. I love how people will say that drinking is an acquired taste. They’ll drink carbonated piss and beverages tasting like nail polish remover just to feel the fun affects of drinking. I get it, it’s worth it to achieve the release.

Same thing with disciplined spiritual work; it’s not the easiest thing to carve out the uncomfortable time to do it. But the payoff is tremendous, and there’s no hangover. Honestly, what really began my life changes was a book I read. Lust and Wonder by Augusten Burroughs. Get this book today. Absorb it and find a way to apply it to your own life. I read it at a very delicate crossroads in my life. It was either fall off the cliff or soar. I was being hurled into the atmosphere either way, and this book taught me how to land the proper way. I was so moved by the book that I was terrified to finish it. I didn’t know how I’d exist without it. I actually emailed the agent/ husband of the author, feeling a burning need to connect. Burroughs himself is too famous, I didn’t think he’d answer me, so I went with his husband and longtime agent Christopher Schelling. It was easy; I just googled his contact info and took a chance. I was ok with not hearing a response. It felt good just to shoot my arrow.  But he answered me!!!! When I saw his name pop up on my emails I burst into this flood of tears. It meant everything at that time to make contact with these strangers, whose story, though wildly different from mine, resonated with me. Take risks, reach out, reach in. Try different things that will make you truly happy, because these little spurts of joy are what fixes us. Once we raise our emotional vibration by taking action, that alone invites more joy.  Not superficial, bullshit, phony happiness. The real deal. Only you will know when it’s real. It’s not your right to be happy, it’s your responsibility. We are responsible for our own energy, and our own contribution. We can’t give what we ourselves lack. We aren’t good parents, good partners, good friends, or good citizens if we are operating on an empty tank. Community service done by the most miserable wretch in the neighborhood, the one talking shit about everyone else, isn’t really spreading much good. Vibration doesn’t lie because it doesn’t need to. I’m training myself to do this when I’m in a bad place: I immediately (or promise myself when it’s logistically accessible) throw myself into something I love. DJ practice, writing, cooking, a yoga class. Even if I’m not in the mood because my ego wants to wallow in anger or self pity, I force myself. It’s beautiful how fast we will cling to joy as soon as it’s in front of us. We want it so much. So find the things that hit that sweet spot for you, and please read Lust and Wonder. Start somewhere, and I promise you’ll end everywhere you need to be. Healing properties are really all around us. We just need to get off our butts and take what we need out of the medicine cabinet. Be proud of the desire to fix your life, pat yourself on the back for asking questions. Only in the space of the inquiry lives the answer.

“God Willing”

This is a phrase I recently realized I loathe. A close second is “with God’s help”.  These two phrases are used as much in my community as is “hello”.  When I say “my community” I don’t mean mine specifically, but rather the Jewish Orthodox community at large.  Speaking with these disclaimers has been wired into our speech patterns since we learned to talk, because almost every parent says them.  They are instinctive utterances.  They have very strong guilt ridden, superstitious undertones; if I don’t say this then God will be angry with me and not grant me help according to His will.  It's as if people are kissing up to God so He will give them what they want.  I hear “with God’s help” said about any topic, ranging from a grave health issue to a kid making a school hockey team.  “God willing, she will do well on her math final”.  Really?? If the child studies and knows math, then she will probably do well on the test.  I don’t think God is controlling the outcome of the fraction section in sixth grade math.  

These superstitious platitudes bother me for a few reasons (as do most things😏).  In the case of more minor issues, say the aforementioned test/hockey team/I hope the caterer does at good job, I feel like results that are entirely achievable by humans are being dumped on God.  It smacks of laziness; I may not have to try my absolute best, cuz if it’s God’s will I’ll get what I want.  Ya know, since He wants it and is willing to help me.  Get over yourself; If we are talking about the same God, the one who is making babies, ushering the dead into heaven, and controlling the solar and lunar cycles, then chances are where your child gets into summer camp is of no consequence.  It’s this strange shirking of our own responsibilities to accomplish.  God is very, very busy. He knows what He’s doing.  To blame every single little outcome of our own lives on Him sounds extremely entitled.  

On the flip side, let’s say the bar mitzvah sucked; the DJ was awful, the chicken was cold, and the flowers were half dead; does this imply that God willed your party to fall apart?  God willing, all will go well, right?  So what is the insinuation when things go wrong?  Think about this.  It essentially means that God is not out the gate on your side.  His “will” and “help” are not obvious to you, and are being given conditionally.  What these conditions are is another story, and every person has their own list.  How much subjectivity can their really be in earning God’s love and help?  Can He really want different things from each and every one of us, or are there just certain things we are all supposed to do to warrant this celestial partnership amongst man and the unseen? 

I think it’s very sad that people who believe that they believe, apparently don’t entirely believe that God is ALWAYS willing to help us.  Peeps, He’s there!  Not because you earned brownie points by beginning and ending every sentence with those few words.  If you don’t say it, will He be mad at you?  I feel a lot of times these things are said it’s because of just that; fear of punishment, revealing itself in the outcome we don’t desire.  Which basically means it’s kind of phony, in that it’s just being tacked on to what we are saying so we will get our way.  It reminds me of crocodile tears, which obviously drive me up a wall.  Instead of SAYING these things, why not just DO what we truly believe is our part as humans, and maybe then God will offer us the hand we need to be further guided?  Assuming that unless we grovel, then God won’t grant us will and help, is akin to believing our parents won’t be there for us at all times.  Not feeling cared for and supported by our human parents unconditionally, does major damage.  It takes tremendous rewriting of a sad narrative to reverse that.  So feeling innately that the OG who actually made you will abandon you on a whim... well, that’s sure as hell not going to make for spiritual stability, which leads to the eventual erosion of pretty much everything else in our lives.  If we don’t trust the Universe we will trust nothing else.  That frightened voice that never soothes itself with divine knowledge and assurance, will indeed be terrified about the minutia of life.  How interesting that Jews specifically, who are supposedly secure in the knowledge that we are chosen, are famously and notoriously fraught with neurosis.  The Woody Allan stereotype of the scared, whiny, fearful, sniveling person who bitches and moans about everything.  Afraid to leave home since death and disaster awaits him at the corner.  This satirization works because it’s real.  I know tons of people like this, and I feel sad about that.  I wish people weren’t afraid of their own shadow, and didn’t always assume the worst.  I used to live like that, so I really relate to that level of fright and disaster prone thinking.  And I know where that came from in my case, just as much as I know how hard I worked to flip my script.

To live in fear and to love in fear are the same thing. Read that again. Jewish neurosis has a strange martyrdom quality to it; the more I worry the more self sacrificing I am.  Um, so what’s the sacrifice? Mental health, enjoyment of life, and inner peace?  It’s like worrying proves we are good mothers, good wives, good members of the tribe.  Worrying actually prevents us from being our true and best selves because it’s a blockage.  It blocks love.  It blocks freedom.  I’d die all over again if at my funeral, the message of the eulogy was, "Uch, what a wonderful worrier she was” (said with exaggerated manual gesticulation). 

Fear is a spirit killer, so why would the Creator of those spirits want us to operate under such duress?  Makes no sense. We need to have more faith that God won’t punish us and hit us with bolts of lightning out of nowhere.  The fire and brimstone way of thinking serves no one.  If I hear one more yenta say something asinine like, “God willing, my kids’ trunks will get to camp”.  Um, Lady, I think if you put the clothing in the trunks and the trucking company takes the bags, then most likely your children will have their monogrammed water bottle from Denny’s arrive in upstate New York in a timely fashion (and will probably be unpacked by the counselors).  And if God forbid, there is a tractor trailer pile up en route to the Catskills, and the trunk truck is prevented from reaching sleepaway camp, then first of all, no one cares about your personalized LeBron towel because people may have gotten hurt, and secondly, worst case scenario, you throw some extra clothes in a bag and drive it up there.  Your child won’t be running around naked like the boy in the Jungle Book.  Bottom line, if there’s a problem here, IT IS NOT GOD UNWILLING FOR YOUR STUFF TO GET THERE.  THE TRUNKS DID NOT GET LOST BECAUSE GOD DOES NOT WANT TO HELP YOU.  IF YOU REALLY THINK THAT THEN YOU PROBABLY THINK I AM A MENTAL PATIENT, AND THAT THIS BLOG IS NUTS. In which case I don’t know what to tell you.

Just please know that God loves you, is always on your side, and  is always wanting what’s best for you.  No ass kissing declarations required.  He didn’t make us to throw us to the wolves.  That’s mean. If we think He’s mean then we are screwed.  Mean attracts mean, fear attracts fear, unhappiness attracts unhappiness.  Doesn’t the opposite route sound so much better?  Your brain is your gift.  You can put it in the shop and fix it up.  Pimp My Ride.  Make it new.  Don’t write your death sentence while you are very much alive.  Love yourself enough to want better.  And pretty much everything is better than fear.  Fear nothing, love everything.  You have the biggest support system  out there, even though you can’t see it.  There are many ways to see things that don’t involve optometry.  I don’t believe God is this Regina George in the sky who needs you saying certain things to be able to sit at the lunch table (imagine one of the angels screaming to another, “you can’t sit with us!!! ).  Believe in our Source.  Believe in the tree in Avatar.  It will feel good, which leads to more good, which leads to better...   Yo, Schnapp, how’s this for Yentl in 2018?

👩🏼‍🎓

As any parent of a graduate knows, a flood of mixed emotions can (and will) drown you at this momentous juncture.  My daughter is soon graduating from high school, and while I’m so proud of her blah blah blah🗣, I’m definitely sad and sentimental.  When I graduated, I’d never have guessed the adults in the room gave that much of a shit.  Aside from the flowers they may have brought, or the photos they took, as a typical teenager I wasn’t aware of the complex range of parental emotions in the smelly, poorly ventilated auditorium.  Perhaps had the ventilation been better🤔...

During times of milestones, the pride factor is a given.  However, the pride I feel is expected in my world.  As in, I’m blessed to not be raising a child in a low income inner city, where a high school diploma may not be an automatic part of the deal.  I never wrestled with fear that my daughter wouldn’t complete high school.  Education where I live is hands down taken for granted, and this has always bothered me a great deal.  We can’t ever apologize where we come from, or to what circumstances we are born into.  But there’s often a sense of entitlement that is attached to a more cushioned existence.  At the start of the year, I stopped to eat on the Upper East Side of New York, a planet unto itself.  The fancy private schools were letting out at this time in the afternoon, and the little corner cafe was soon swarming with glittering, privileged teens.  It was like the set of Gossip Girl.  I felt average, shlumpy, and incredibly lacking in my own horrendous high school experience (not over it).  These girls had musical instruments, the kilt and knee sock gig down pat, and nannies carrying their bags. Their hair was shining, their skin clear, and carbs were not an issue.  The biggest dilemma seemed to be deciding which slutty animal or professional to be for Halloween (slutty mouse or cop?🐭👩🏻‍✈️). I SAY THIS WITH NO JUDGEMENT, IT WAS JUST VERY FUNNY IN A SATIRICAL WAY. I loved the SNL aspect.

As I drove home through Harlem, a few blocks up, the high school dismissal scene was quite different. The colors and energies even changed. It was grayer and heavier. This was not Blair and Serena eating sushi on the MET steps. I assume nothing about the thoughts and feelings of the kids, they could have been equally happy (and who knows if the wealthier ones were??), but it was a glaringly different scenario. It made me really think about how vastly different experiences can be just a few short blocks away from each other, and how unfair it is for people to immediately inherit a certain life.  More so, how being born into a satin pillow removes so much of what’s required to succeed ; drive.  I see this in my own surroundings.  If kids fail a test, so what? The teachers are automatically at fault.  All info can be learned from an iPhone.  The list goes on. So little is required since they’ll graduate regardless. 

My daughter happens to have worked her ass off these past four years.  Not out of fear of remaining trapped in a tough social construct, but because she’s a good girl who loves to learn. She shines in art history, reading, and writing.  When she’d feel overwhelmed by the workload, and Yeshiva schedules are brutal, I’d have sympathy but also pride that she was taking it seriously.  Struggle leads to growth and competency.  She earned her diploma, though she’d have gotten it anyway.  On another note, I’m having a hard time processing that she’s leaving home soon.  Never again will her occupancy of her bed here be a given.  I truly can’t wrap my head around that.  It makes no sense that the little bean I breastfed while watching The Wonder Years, is leaving me.  Where is she going and why doesn’t she want to stay???  Is her excitement at leaving home an indication I screwed up as a mother?  I know that’s egocentric.  This isn’t about me.  She’s entitled to her journey, and thank god she is an adaptable, well adjusted child.  All I want for her now is experience.  I’m just experiencing life at 40; I’m thrilled she’s beginning now. Rack it up, Gurl.  Just live.  But please want to come home.  A lot.  Sifting through baby pictures for her yearbook ads was really hard.  I cried as I flipped through the albums I’ve always meticulously kept.  Now photos live in my stupid phone, not being touched or framed.  That’s another depressing story...

One of the hardest things for parents to do is remove ourselves from our kids’ experiences. They are individuals who need space to grow and figure shit out.  They are not extensions of us, they are universes unto themselves.  It’s not fair for us to insert ourselves in every detail of their lives, be it out of love, insecurity, control, or boredom.  I can’t stand when parents seek fulfillment solely through their children.  It’s too much pressure on them.  I mess up all the time.  I make mistakes I never thought I’d make.  I kick myself constantly.  However, when I look at my Wonder Years baby girl, I know I’m getting at least half of it right.  What a lovely, kind, sensitive, smart, polite, beautiful soul she is, on her own accord. Now if only those graduation caps weren’t so stupid looking...

congrats to anyone working hard for anything, and for starting new chapters, myself included. Onward.  Always onward.  The day we stop learning is the day we die. Love you so much right now.

Tree Pose

I’m going through a tough time now, and I need to call upon all the ideas that I’ve been prattling on about to you since the blog began. Ideas about acceptance, editing, being at peace with the now, breathing through hardships, protecting our energy, raising and sustaining vibrations. You know, all the good stuff. This is a time I need to follow my own advice, or my mind will go off the rails.

I was presented with an emotionally challenging scenario, that went from one extreme to the other in a few short weeks. Something I’ve wanted for a very long time seemed finally within my reach, however ultimately was unattainable at this time. I have been furiously working to clear space in my mind, body, and spirit, so I thought the Law of Attraction was thinking, "Ah! She’s ready!”.

Since my DJ gig a few weeks ago, if you’ve read that post, it’s clear how my level of trust in the universe has increased tremendously.  So I trusted that the universe, in all its wisdom and love for me (for all of us), was sending me what I’ve been manifesting for so long.  Trust is always rewarded, and I’m a good girl, right?  Read into that as much as you’d like. As hard as it is to accept that the outcome of this situation is not what I hoped for, I have indeed learned a lot from it.  But I had to claw my mind out of a pile of shrapnel to reach these healthy, appreciative thoughts. 

My mediation lately has been of me being symbolized by a bright pink cherry blossom tree.  My gig came on the first nice day of the season.  We here in the tri state area have been waiting for things to bloom.  So a couple days before the job, when I was practicing my ass off, I saw a gorgeous cherry blossom in the middle of Manhattan, and I thought,  "ok, this tree is you. This is your time. Roll into your season. Nature waits for no one.” So I’m represented by this tree right? Obvious symbolism.

At first during meditation the tree stood alone. I clung to the cleanliness of that image. Then I meditated on sitting naked and content in a carved out hole in the trunk, patiently waiting for whoever is meant for me to come get me. I’m calm and peaceful sitting in the trunk, because the tree is Myself.  Therefore, I’m at a place where I’m at peace in my increased alignment.  I feel proud of this.  You can’t force meditative images, they come to you naturally when you’re zoned out. It clicks in my heart that this is what I’m picturing.  Now, since reeling from the cards I was dealt recently, my image is of me lying peacefully on cool, refreshing mossy grass at the base of my tree.  I’m resting.  I’m waiting.  I’m content with entering a state of just being. I’m always near my tree because we are one. A strong, beautiful trunk that sprouts vibrant flowers.  I’m always nude in these images, because I’m comfortable with emotional exposure.  This too indicates a level of trust.  Always having to force things in my life must stop.  I don’t need to resort to that anymore.  It’s coming, it’s all coming, and I know it.  So I can rest now.  The work never stops, and our monkey minds will always try to hop around frenetically.  The ego will always try to trip us up and convince us that things are terrible because they didn’t work out the way WE wanted (who are we to script things for others??? We don’t like it when they do it to us.) Taming the mind is a constant process.  And so is letting go.  Letting go of expectations and predictions.  Letting go of any notion of permanence.  Relaxing into the fact that energy is always changing.  Hopes and dreams are vital.  Manifestation  works.

I grapple with the difference between those things and expectations.  But I think it’s that expectation is attached to control, so we go crazy when we lose it.  We really suffer when we expect, but we flourish when we hope and dream.  If I exist under the umbrella of Trust, then I can finally lay down my head with a smile on my face.  And who doesn’t love that feeling?  Call it a spiritual hammock.  Even the shitty things in my life have given me tremendous growth.  I either recognize that or I go crazy.  The choice is mine.  I choose to rest.  I love you very much. That’s not bullshit.  When I write I feel open and mushy, and I’m flooded with warmth.  Writing makes me feel good, so I can tap into emotional generosity.  It’s not shtick when I tell you I love you.  Take that and turn it into whatever you need.  Verbal generosity helps me function.  I erode when I can’t share.  If you love someone, don’t wait to tell them.  There’s no point.  It will be so heavy on your heart to strap that feeling down.  Give yourself a gift by being open, in whatever way feels right to you. You’ll never regret operating from a place of love. Risk involved?  Sure.  The greater risk is stifling yourself.  Remember, you are nature. I challenge you to look around, find an image in nature that you identify with, and use that to symbolize yourself. Hold onto that image, and follow its changes. Barren, dry, cracked, brittle, blossoming, it’s all part of you. Change, fluidity, breaking down and rebuilding. Rooting to rise.  Every damn day, rooting to rise.

Smells Like... my feet

Actually, I can say with grateful relief that I don't have a foot odor problem (Gentleman, take note). But since this post is about Nirvana, one of the greatest rock bands ever,  I had to give a nod to their most famous song. I'm of course referring to "Smells Like Teen Spirit". This song fuels me just as much today as it did when I first heard it in my youth. The guitar opener stops me cold each and every time, then rips me open to the point where I willingly spill forth all my guts and emotions. Kurt Cobain still holds space for us posthumously. I always felt permission to feel or think whatever the hell I wanted under his unintentional direction. Whether or not what was/is going on inside me makes sense to the outside world is irrelevant. Many of Kurt's lyrics are like WTF, but it somehow never mattered. There was something bigger happening than phonetics.

If you never saw the video to this song, I strongly suggest looking it up. It completely encapsulated the dark, teenage, human angst roiling up inside of a misunderstood generation. Is there even a thing as an "understood" youthful generation? I don't think so. It's part of adolescent development to be confused, sad, angry, alone, adrift, frustrated, and unable to understand or explain why. Which is why teens cling so manically to musicians that can explain and feel more clearly than they can. Think about how many songs from that era you still respond to do viscerally. Chances are those songs aren't necessarily musical masterpieces, but they reached inside you, grabbed hold of your emotions, and set them free. Four and a half minutes of freedom is sometimes all we need to get through the day. All the video footage of Beatlemania, or hot early Elvis days, showing women fainting and literally tearing their hair out; that's all so real. Music makes people crazy because at the root of all of us is this deep longing to be understood. When we feel understood by a musician, a guitar riff, or a set of lyrics, it's this burst of energetic relief. It's more satisfying than popping a water balloon. 

Kurt Cobain, despite all his demons, lifted up (and continues to lift) an entire generation, a generation that felt crushed by his suicide. Going back to the gothic cheerleader in the video that I am dying to dress up as. Can someone please make a not nerdy Purim party?? The whole squad looked like this, but the one I couldn't take my eyes off of had braided pigtails, a little Catholic girl skirt, piercings, and major tattoos. There was something about the way she moved and how her hair flew that mesmerized me. I listen to that song all the time, and always think about her. She obviously represented a part of me I wanted to release. An F U boldness that was impervious to all else. Twenty five years later, I still want to emulate her. The cheerleaders moved in this deliberate slow motion, that was fiercely apathetic yet devoted to something. We all go through the motions of life, while often having zero comprehension or control over what the hell is happening inside us.   The drums on Teen Spirit still drive me wild. I've fallen off the elliptical machine several times trying to "air drum"🙄. Apparently I can neither drum in actuality nor in my fantasies. I've ALWAYS wished I could drum, since childhood. Lenny Kravitz and Billy Joel both have female drummers (Billy Joel's might be a percussionist), and watching them fills me with awe and envy.  Lithium, All Apologies; unfortunately the list does not go on very long, but all of it is gold.

As a teen in the MTV generation, I watched Nirvana Unplugged until my eyes and heart bled. Dave Grohl in that low ponytail and turtle neck is an image forever burned in my mind. I'll never forget listening desperately to Courtney Love on the radio, the night Kurt took his life. She was the First Lady of grunge. She was a piece of work, but he loved her, so I did too.     

Fast forward 25 years later, and I just discovered Instagram. I find this artist on IG, @topherkearby. He writes and draws beautifully. His cartoons are superb. I saw a rendering Topher did of my beloved Kurt a few months back. Then there was  an offer on his account for custom Converse. I messaged him requesting Nirvana sneakers. They are incredible, and a comfort to me. After so many years, we still miss who we miss. Once a person impacts us so deeply, we will fill that hole with whatever we can get our hands (or feet) on. I can never walk in Kurt Cobain's shoes, but now I have him painted on mine. These shoes are art, and art is often found in the unlikeliest of places. Beauty when we least expect it. Messages in the mess. At 40 I still feel like I reek of Teen Spirit. I don't ever want to wash that away.

🤘🏻, LB

International Love❤️🌎🌓

This is a very special post for me to write, and I've been so excited to finally put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard). Bloggers write about our experiences, and this particular experience was life changing for me. I'm sure you recall that several months ago I met with Sassy Shif, a hugely popular lifestyle blogger and influencer from Mumbai, India. Shiffy had reached out to me in the beginning of January. She was coming to NYC for the first time, and wanted to meet up and collaborate. This alone floored me. That a woman from across the globe was aware of me, read my stuff, felt a connection, and sought me out as a fellow voice in the biz. Shiffy's warmth and authenticity was clear from her first email. I instantly liked her, not just because I was flattered that she reached out. It was incredibly moving to really live the power of social media. Shiffy finding me, getting to know me through my words and feelings, and then coming to collaborate based on a connection she felt, represents the best of what social has the potential to offer. Introducing and uniting likeminded souls from anywhere in the world, creating bonds and friendships, sharing knowledge, offering support to strangers. I was quite emotional about all this, and for the first time I realized the reach I have as a blogger. I've written my whole life, but writing things that are seen outside the notebooks I keep in my nightstand is still fairly new. Writing isn't a want, it's a need. At my happiest or at my absolute lowest, what I reach for is a pen and paper. Always. That or my music. I never understood my writing to be impactful because no one really saw it. Shiffy saw it and bonded with my thoughts before we ever met. How freaking cool???

The idea of bloggers from different countries joining together to share cross cultural ideas on fashion, music, pop culture, and spirituality is so beautiful and important. We are all roots on the same tree, so we should be growing together. I have come to think of Source Energy as that giant tree from the film Avatar. That tree was life, knowledge, and energy to all beings. We all need to breathe, eat, sleep, be loved... The list of how similar we really are goes on. That Shiffy is from India, the yoga motherland, was not lost on me. An added dimension for me was that this is the first year of my 40 year old life that I finally have non Jewish friends from other ethnicities and cultures. That new reality is so important to me. I have no more interest in living in a bubble and only being friends with one type of person. That no longer makes an iota of sense. Good people are good people and that's it. I want my tribe to include any pure, kind, creative, giving human. What religion or race they are is inconsequential. This is not new for anyone reading this who isn't an Orthodox Jew, but trust me, it's a big deal for us. We just don't have the exposure. We live in certain types of communities, send our kids to certain types of schools and camps, and really only know a certain social group. It's extremely limiting. It might be enough for some, but it is doubtlessly limiting. By meeting Shiffy I was like, "Holy F, I'm getting a buddy in India👏🏻🌎❤️". Words I never thought I'd say, and I am all about embracing new opportunity.

Fast forward to our meeting. I decided to take Shiffy and her delightful husband, Salman, who is her talented photographer, to the Lower East Side. I wanted to show her one of the hippest, coolest neighborhoods in NYC. Scratch DJ Academy, my second home, is right nearby, so I'm on the LES all the time. It's all it's rumored to be, FYI. We began our meeting at the Ludlow hotel, at the super cool restaurant Dirty French. I knew she'd love it. I was brimming with excitement; I was meeting my Indian pen pal📝💛. It is very rare that upon meeting someone for the first time, that I'm not the most exuberant. I've always considered myself a camp counselor type; the gal that sets the mood and energy in the room. Very seldom am I out the gate energetically matched. Shiffy bounded in, arms outstretched, and jumped in for a hug. Yasssss! I loved her on sight. It was a breath of fresh air to have someone else set the tone. This is the best way I can describe Shiffy: she is the kind of person to give you the clothes off her back. I know this since that's just what she did. After I complimented her on her beautiful, bright, Indian style ensemble, she literally took off all three pieces and handed them to me. So giving, so enthusiastic. We sat down to mimosas and  ubiquitous avocado toast 🍾, and shot the shit about our respective hometowns. We discussed upcoming Spring outerwear fashion trends. I brought a large selection of my own jackets that I've amassed over the years, many of which are of the moment. Shiffy loved the metallics, the bomber jacket looks, and the two textured denim jackets the best. It was a fun show and tell situation. We couldn't stop chatting and marveling over the power social media has to connect and unite. I learned a lot about the blogging industry in India. We took fantastic NYC street photos, then had a lovely lunch at the iconic Laduree. It was such an instabond!

Our adventures over the next few weeks continued with numerous NYFW events, PR parties, and a photo shoot at the James Nomad hotel. I gave her a long list of places to go and things to do in NYC. She and Salman even came to my lesson at Scratch one day! Shiffy and I are constantly in touch, sharing respect, admiration, and love for each other. Our goal is to seek out like minded, substantial bloggers who truly wish to positively impact our followers. So many are in it just for superficial attention. Shiffy was a major Bollywood marketing executive before becoming an influencer. Follow her and you'll quickly see how she wants to share, spread, and include her peeps in the best life has to offer. Her positivity and honesty is clear. Time zones and continents are irrelevant when a pure soul shoots her arrow in the right way. My dream is to meet with her and Salman in Mumbai next time! It will happen. I feel so grateful that Shiffy stumbled upon me, researched me, and chose me to be her New York buddy. I feel even more grateful that I have a new friend for life. 🌎✌🏼️Namaste, Shiffy. The light in me most certainly recognizes the light in you✨✨✨. Om, shanti to all our followers, wherever they may be for now.

Fashion Week

#DREAMZ 💿💿

You know when you have those intensely magical moments, in which you are so acutely aware that everything that's ever happened to you has led to a certain point? And you are so overcome with divine trust in both the universe and yourself, that the only thing left to do is to weep with gratitude? I had such a moment recently, and it will easily go down as one of the epic events over the course of my entire life span. No matter what age I will ultimately live to be, this event will be a major highlight. And I'm talking about a life that will contain many epic moments, since I'll do everything in my power to make that so.

Over the past year and a half, since the Jessie ship was steered in a new direction, I am continuously blown away by what "the universe" has offered me. I put that in quotes since that term is so grossly overused and diluted, but there is no question an unseen force that is constantly at work to meet us vibrationally.  In my quest for self study and understanding, I am learning to clearly see all the invitations the universe has hand written for me. These invitations manifest in the form of other humans, opportunities, physical changes, exact moments, and emotions I never paid attention to because they were scary and unpleasant. The universe can offer away, but only does so when we are ready to accept these invitations. What usually causes us to decline is fear. Fear of failure, fear of change, fear of growth, fear of mistakes, fear of embarrassing ourselves, and fear of what others will think/say. Fear is evil. It fucks us up tremendously. The good news, however, is that it's not at all permanent. It is a force to drive out, but it is indeed possible, and frankly necessary in order to live your fullest life. Fear is what took me so long to enroll in DJ school two years ago. It is what made me shlep a friend to my first semester of classes, which is soooo unlike me; I often write about how I'm very comfortable going places solo. Listen, fear is a human emotion. I no longer chastise myself for having it. Any thought or feeling on the human spectrum of emotion is an experience we are meant to have. It's how we then go on to handle it that determines the course of our lives.

Since I've opened up my life, all kinds of wonderful (and some not) people have popped up in it. I allowed for this by clearing space. It's logic; out with the old, in with the new. I met James through Federica. If you're a longtime reader, firstly, I love you so much. Secondly, you may recall an article I wrote about my contractor, Al, back in August. Al is Federica's father. Their entire family has been a gift in my life. It's almost impossible to quantify the relationship I have with them. So I meet James through Fed. We hang out, we play, we enjoy life together. Like attracts like. James is super fabulous and works in the NYC hotel industry. He's the kindest, most generous guy. That he has killer fashion sense and the coolest collection of eyeglasses is an added bonus. Oh, and we love the same music, which we discovered while clubbing in Brooklyn. Several weeks ago, I'm sitting in a doctor's waiting room and I get a life changing email. Those are beyond cool, btw. They can make history. The Surrey hotel in NYC is launching the opening of their rooftop bar. They're looking for a fabulous DJ who can mix an old school Sinatra vibe with current/upbeat. James was like, you can definitely do this. This was a clear message from a higher force; Girl, you ready for this.

I am in no position to argue with nature, and nature is growth. Nature is change. Nature propels herself forward every damn day, revealing literal wonder and magic. Human beings are a function of nature, probably the most complicated species around, which is why we get all screwed up when we resist it. I read something on IG that I loved; how nature loves and supports courage. How once we hurl ourselves into the abyss, we find its really a soft featherbed. I have proof of this idea; I have lived it with all the twists and turns my life has taken. I started to view my head as a file cabinet. Sure, there was a cabinet of fear. But I also have a huge drawer of courage and strength. Not theoretically but actually. I now know that about myself. I have proof. So I imagined closing the fear drawer and opening the courage drawer. I so admire and envy people who simply do not feel scared, but right now that's not me. It might never be, and that's ok, as long as I manage my fears and don't allow them to govern my life. I so, so believe that the universe is caring for me and guiding me. I learned this through daily yoga and mediation practice. I can tell you life is a helluva lot more enjoyable when we believe. It just is. If I don't trust, then I'm choosing to invite doubt into my life, and we all know how that story ends. So I trusted the universe, who had sent me James, and I trusted James that I was intended for this moment in time. I trusted my DJ journey, which was ridiculed by some very small minded, unsupportive people that I knew.  I trusted my teacher at Scratch, who would never push me off a cliff if he didn't believe I could fly. He knows who he is, and he knows what the past couple of years have meant to me. How metaphorical they've been. Every time I allowed fear and doubt to cloud my vision, it was knowing that he was sure I could handle it that slammed the fear drawer shut. When the student is ready the teacher appears. Only this certain sensei at this certain dojo would have gotten me here. I'm crystal clear on that. When you know, you know...

So back to this incredible night. Picture it: a beautiful, chic rooftop bar on the famed NYC Upper East Side at the landmark Surrey hotel, the first hot evening of the season, beautifully dressed attractive people, sexy artwork on display by London artist Jimmie Martin, high end liquor flowing, delicious food being passed around, AND MUSIC. I mean, the place was bumping! Usually this rooftop bar features a live jazz band. They wanted a different feel to this event, and I was so proud to deliver that. No one expected that the chick in the silver Soul Train jumpsuit, could kick it with a Rat Pack vibe. I wanted to honor the hotel's history with Sinatra, Tony Bennett/Lady Gaga, Dean Martin, and Bobby Darin. It was a great way to kickoff the night. New York glittered with glamour and gravity. I then bumped it up with Motown, one of my favorite genres, and then some disco. After that it was clear I had the guests loose enough, and I hit them with 80's, 90's, and rap. My eclectic nature really had room to shine that night.

I know being a DJ is not about me; it's about the partygoers, but it feels so good to feed the people what they want. They often don't even know what they want to hear; that's my job. I love providing for people, and holding space with my energy. Watching the crowd was my favorite part. Anticipating what they'd like to hear, interacting, engaging, giving and receiving all our energies as one unit. It was beautiful. I have never felt more radiant or alive. This is musical connection, and I've been addicted to it my whole life. This is how I will transmit yogic philosophy; I will use music and words to fuse us together. We are all given different means of serving humanity. When people are with me for the night, whether they arrived to the party happy or sad, I will take care of them. I am energetically strong, I can handle everyone's moods. If they can just be in the moment and enjoy, then I've done my job. As I looked out onto the crowd, I felt so moved that one little Jessie made 300 people have a sick time. All of us just wants to be happy. All of us. We can't achieve that alone. We need each other more than is comfortable to admit. It can feel weak to admit we need others, but it isn't at all. A garden needs all kinds of flowers to be its most beautiful, a dish needs a variety of spices. Let's all just be here together. I had the time of my life that night. I have been beaming ever since. That night was a gift, but it was proof of all my dreams and determination. I wanted this for myself and I set out to get it. As I said, nature loves and rewards courage.

The magnitude of all this hit me as I lit my Shabbat candles after the gig. For years I prayed fervently to God to show me creative and spiritual fulfillment.  I had no idea how to get it, but I knew I was lost without it. This week, after blessing my family and the Sabbath, the words "thank you" just kept tumbling out. Over and over and over. It is true that gratitude is the key to happiness. I am grateful for my passion for music, grateful for my desire to share it, and grateful to every person who has taught me how to be a messenger of lyrics and melody. Everything in life begins with a dream, and the only one who can decide what that dream is is YOU. Do you realize how powerful that makes you?? Your dream lives within you. Fight your ass off to uncover it. Do whatever it takes for however long it takes. Try different avenues of excavation. Once you do, you will be catapulted into a richer existence. This is just how this works. You are worth it. You deserve it. You are ready. See you on the dance floor. I got you, I promise.

Love, DJ LADY BLAGA

Kotel Compass

It's widely known that the Kotel, the Western Wall, in Israel is a place of deep religious and spiritual significance. People from all over the world, of all religions or non religions, flock to the Kotel to communicate with God. I have a lot of friends who feel they can only access their spirituality at this wall. This is a problem, particularly if one doesn't live anywhere near Jerusalem. All humans have spirits all the time. If those spirits are dormant or neglected unless we tell ourselves we are "at one specific place", then we aren't properly functioning the majority of the time. If we attach feeling connected and alive to an object, a place, a holiday , a date on a calendar, or even another person, then we are setting ourselves up for spiritual failure. Any of these outside sources can and will go away at some point, leaving us bereft and sad. The holiday will end, we will leave Israel, the person might move or die, and the object could be lost or destroyed at any time. Blaming or crediting an inanimate object with the whole of your spirituality is an unnecessary mistake.  We have these things inside us already, and only we can attach to them. There is no question this is internal work and not external. It's definitely a form of avoidance in seeking "things" to fill us with godliness, even if said things are holy. It doesn't matter; to put all our eggs in another basket, when we are the chickens, is a bizarre handing off of the greatest part of being alive. This really begs the question; to what degree to we place importance on objects in general? Even highly observant Jews are divided on the intrinsic spiritual powers of the Kotel. Some believe the stones themselves hold magical properties, and are a direct line to Hashem, while others see it as just a wall. Symbolic, yes, but it's a "pile of stones", as one friend put it. It's important to note that this person did indeed make Aliyah/move to Israel, and is completely orthodox. He intended no disrespect. He, like myself, thinks it is just a historic wall. I don't feel as drawn to the Kotel as I used to. I don't feel compelled to run there when I visit Israel. I am bursting with spirituality everywhere in Israel, even on a beach in tel Aviv. Especially on a beach in Tel Aviv! Watching the sunset, surrounded by people outdoors who are full of life, enjoying their families, this truly activates my soul. I feel grateful for life, grateful for the state of Israel, grateful for the warmth of the sun, and for the energy all around me. The point is that we are denying ourselves if we don't learn to live in a spiritual state in any situation. This discussion arose around the Friday night table. A different close friend described the intense connection he feels to Hashem only at the Kotel. I said, but you're only there maximum once a year so where does that leave you the other 364 days? Wouldn't it be so wonderful for you, I continued, if you could feel that way here in New Jersey? How much richer would life be then? Our lives would be happier, fuller, and more peaceful if we made it a mission to do whatever it takes to infuse the mundane with meaning. If we don't, the only ones that suffer is us. With all the practical responsibilities of life, it is so daunting to have to worry about the intangible. Where do we begin? We think we have control over the physical, the tangible, so this is what we seek for comfort. It never works though. If anything, there might be fleeting instant gratification, and that always fades. We are tired, burnt out, and don't want to have to feel responsible for one more thing. We can prove we own a car, bought the house, built the pool, put on the yalkmuka, but we can't prove we are spiritual. So this responsibility, the obligation we have to serving our souls, gets shelved. No one knows if we lack in that area. But we know, and that causes a nagging feeling of unrest. That's the spirit crying out for nourishment. Constant nourishment. A soul can indeed starve to death. We cannot rely on any kind of structure to fix that, it's an unrealistic expectation. If you are amongst those who do feel a jolt of spirituality from the Kotel, I ask you, for nobody's sake but your own, to ask yourself how you can perpetuate that beautiful feeling. If you really ask, you'll start to find answers. This is one of the most important questions you can ever ask. Questions are often a gift. They lead to self study, and the more layers we unpeel, THAT is the key to a spiritual life. Wherever you are.

Void Transaction

So I've had this title sitting in my draft pile for months. This is unlike me; usually when an idea strikes I have an urgency to get it out immediately. I love that part of the creative process, that it's a deep need. I think I've held off writing this post so as not to sound judgmental or hypocritical. This piece is not meant to condemn those who shop a lot. That's not my business. Rather, after examining my own patterns and shifts in said patterns, I have learned a lot about the incessant need to buy shit. It is not revelatory that shopping fills a void. That is known, yet it is a crack addiction that is deemed acceptable since it isn't actually crack. Especially if it's "stuff for the kids".  Do our children really care if they have six sweatshirts or eight? Of course not. There is good reason why when on a show about hoarding, there is always a psychiatrist or psychologist on hand. Obtaining THINGS is unquestionably something we do as a means of keeping busy, distraction, giving a time table to an otherwise empty and unstructured day, and a shot of instant (though unfulfilling) gratification. THINGS and STUFF can also dangerously be expressions of false love. I recently spoke to a middle aged man who said he needs to shop incessantly, since the giving to him of stuff was the only way his mother was "kind" to him as a boy. People often give tangible items when they can't give what others really need to receive; the intangible. That is the root of our own adult shopping habits with ourselves. We buy all sorts of unneeded crap for the same reason; to give ourselves the tangible SINCE WE CAN'T GIVE OURSELVES THE INTANGIBLE. I put that in caps so you'll pay careful attention. Instead of filling our days with searching for self love, acceptance, growth, and the scariest of all; what we need to CHANGE, we run to a store. Adults fill their carts and baskets with empty objects instead of taking time to observe those patterns. It is hands down a means of deflection and distraction from filling out spiritual baskets and emotional carts.

I once read a brilliant line in an article. I think it was one of the Ephron sisters. She wrote of her unhealthy marriage like this, "we filled the gaps in our marriage with things". That line  struck me in its truth and honesty. Cars, clothes, redecorating, purses, artwork.  "We bought this together" or "he bought this for me".  Sure, acquiring mementos together on a trip or a sentimental gift is lovely. We all love genuine tokens of love and affection. But I suspect the root of much of that giving doesn't come from a pure well of the desire to just give. To give in the unconditional sense. Because real, pure giving doesn't rely on materialism.  It just doesn't.  Someone who is certain how deeply loved they are, be it by themselves or another, doesn't need a bracelet to prove that.  I once spoke to a woman who went to five different supermarkets a week. She bought different items in each store. She wasn't in the best of health, so I asked her why doesn't she go to one store and make her life easier? She knew why. She said, "without this I would have nothing to do." That made me so sad. How we start off on this planet, full of potential and possibility, and can so easily wind up directionless, having no idea what the hell to do with our precious time. Days wasted shopping, running, returning, pretending to be busy until it's carpool time, dinner time, or our show comes on. By the way, the supermarket woman died a few years later. Think about that.

I was never an incessant shopper, but the few times I did go I'd buy a lot. Too much. Purchasing these items made me "happy". Look what I did today; I got these gorgeous shoes to wear to the next upcoming bar mitzvah. Buying all sorts of crap for the house, the kids. It doesn't have to be Gucci; Bed Bath and Beyond can be just as much of an addiction. Basically, we are addicted to distracting ourselves from a myriad of serious, heavy shit that is begging for our attention and awareness. I knew I was done with this phase in my life when I went to Italy last summer. The Italian airport is famous for its huge collection of duty free designer shops. I didn't glance at them; I had no interest. None. I bought a beautiful apron with lemons and Italian words, as a memento from my trip. I love aprons, I always wear them. I bought the same one for S, who also loves them. The lemon apron has become one of our special things. It makes us smile. That's all I wanted from my trip. As I continue to unload the need for the physical, I am indeed lighter and cleaner. I'm not being penalized for overweight in the metaphorical sense. Lighten your load. The more you eliminate from your life, the more shelves you clear out for what matters. I promise it works. If you're addicted to stuff, don't judge yourself. Go over your need for these patterns, like you would a credit card statement. Study yourself, learn about yourself, and go return what you don't need. I mean emotionally. Give back fear, emptiness, sadness, boredom, and anxiety. And go acquire what you really need and want. You don't need me to tell you what that is; you already know. And I know you know these answers aren't found in a pair of shoes.   

Always Yours, Lady Blaga

Tal-mood

I'm going to wager that this is a first Talmud pun...🤔🤓✡.       

Often times, as I'm writing a style post that began as more one dimensional, it morphs into a deeper piece. I love when this happens. I admittedly feel like a bit of a douche waxing philosophic about an outfit. Sure, I love fashion. I really do. I have always used it as a means of expression. One of my earliest memories is of a four year old me wearing a faux denim cowboy dress, purchased from Pathmark. Um, as in the supermarket. My mother begged me to wear something else, but I stubbornly insisted on wearing that dress numerous days in a row. Questionable fashion choice, but good for me for owning Herself even in nursery school. It took me decades to gain footing in other areas of my life, but in that department I guess I stubbornly did my thang. However, while I really like clothing and accessories, let's face it; it's not what makes the world spin on its axis. So when I'm able to turn a style post into substance, I feel proud, especially since that evolves organically. It's always unplanned. While writing the post about the navy leather outfit, other ideas took shape in my hand. I referenced some but more thoughts remained that I wanted to share with you. That's the thing about a true idea; it's the center of a spiderweb of thoughts🕷.

It will always yield more, cause us to keep going. I mean, why stop? Surely there's someone you can ask/vent to/discuss with. THAT is what makes the world spin on its axis🌎. That is the point of this blog. In Judaism the Talmud encourages questions, discussions, and debates. Different rabbis represented opposing schools of thought, and laws were created based on how the majority opined. I loved learning Talmud when I was younger. I enjoyed the Aramaic in which it's written, and in general I love to analyze. But I've been grappling with this lately; does any organized religion truly welcome questions? It's easy to say that, as long as the answers and results yield the same. I have been feeling that the message might be, "Sure, ask away, as long as you stick the formula that the rest of us are using. Cuz if you don't, well..." Religion and spirituality are two completely separate entities, though they often get muddled together. Many use religion as a way of convincing themselves it's bringing them to a higher spiritual plain. It does not work this way. The only way to exist in a state of pure spirituality is to connect to your God given spirit, the one tool already within you. We were all given this incredible gift at birth. Imagine yourself full of this vast expanse of cosmic energy, just in the jacket of your amazing body. A jacket that's one day going to be removed, as hard as that is to admit.

Can it really be that our spirit, this undefinable magic, is affected by your sexual orientation, race, length of your skirt, celibacy, or in which direction you light the menorah? That if you're a girl with visible elbows or ankles, you are deemed less spiritual? That the amount of Hail Marys or psalms you say determines your relationship to God?  I say this not in ridicule but in genuine inquisitiveness. If God made all of us, ALL of us, and brought us into this world in such a state of clean perfection, do we really think He is setting us up for a lifetime of crawling through an obstacle course of rules just to return to Him? Don't you think He loves you more than that? The greatest spiritual teachers talk about how all our actions are based on either love or fear. When we act in a manner that's beneath us,  it's because we are usually deep down afraid of something. Afraid of not being loved, being unseen, being wrong, feeling not in control of our own lives, scared of death, feeling more jealous than we want to admit, etc. The following of rules, as I've come to see it, is a very fear based practice. It's a carefully constructed illusion of control. If I do this God will reward me.  If I do that I won't get struck by lightening.  If I do x I'll be known as devout in my community.  If I'm a good boy or girl I'm guaranteed a front row seat in heaven.  How did we get so conditioned by thoughts such as these? Think about it; other flesh and bone humans decided all these rules. What makes anyone the authority? Why are we so sure this is what God wants??? He never told any of us.

Interpretations of what other humans believe to be the will of God has morphed over the years into some pretty crazy shit. I had a teacher in high school who would be considered to be exceptionally devout. She taught me in tenth grade. I was flummoxed one day in class as she explained to us that after her adopted son turned 13, the age of bar mitzvah, she will no longer touch him in any way. Since he's not biologically hers, any physical contact between sexes is forbidden. WHA????? This reminds me of my favorite line in the film The Royal Tenenbaums, where the awesome Gene Hackman says of Gwyneth Paltrow,"and this is my adopted daughter, Helen." How sad a life for any child to not receive oceans of physical affection from his mother? How can that not lead to a life of loneliness, isolation, and neglect? To not kiss your son goodnight in the name of God? Come on. That can't be a divine wish. I know that's an extreme case, but I also don't think God really cares if I wait one, three, or six hours between eating meat and dairy. Or if I take a final with exposed ankles. Or if I hold hands with my (imaginary) boyfriend? Or if someone finds true love and peace with someone of the same gender. Or if I'm Jewish or not. I know God loves me, and that's frankly all I need to go forth. Look, He's not handing the manual to me just like He's not handing to manual to the Pope or the Chief Rabbi of Israel. All this is just what I believe He wants from me. And that is to be a kind, peaceful, giving, and receptive contributor to the world. To act from my spirit, not from a man made encyclopedia of rules.

Before these rule books, we already were given what we need to feel connected: the elements, the stars, our bodies, our breathing. There is no purer place than a hospital delivery room. When that baby comes out, attached to its mother, nestled in her arms, crying, blinking open its eyes for the first time, is that mother thinking ,"I can't wait to plow you with religious dogma so that you'll have a successful, proper life?" No, of course not. No mother is thinking that, nor is the father. The first thing any parent in a delivery room wants to know is if their new child is breathing. It's all that matters. A healthy, breathing child. As time goes on we want that baby to smile, to laugh, to eat, to sleep, to walk, to be kind, to let us hug them, to share with their little friends. Isn't it amazing how those things are all we want? Maybe this is what God wants from us too. If we were created in His divine image, and if within us exists this infinitesimal magic, maybe we are more similar to God than we are comfortable with. Because we are human, and humans feel adrift in the abstract. So we cling to restrictions and stringencies because we don't know how to get through the day without them. We need to trust more. Trust that God is happy with us the way He made us. God is too busy to make a half assed project. He already gave you all you need. Seek spiritual connection within, not from without. I promise it's more fulfilling that way. It brings a sense of calm to your life you didn't know was attainable. How wonderful to not live your life in outline form. If religions each have their own gazillion interpretations of life, then which one is right? It's impossible to determine that. There's no winner in that race because there's one judge, and He is rooting for all the competitors. So let's use what we KNOW we have and not what we THINK we need to live a spiritual life. Hey, no one ever arose from the dead to tell us what the heavens really want from us, so we can stop trying so hard feverishly to guess. If we all unzip our jackets of gender, race, and religion, we will find we all have the exact same tool kit. The one they give you with free formula samples in the maternity ward. Let's use that and see how it goes.       

Deer God

I have always wondered about the antler growing process on a deer. Or any other horned animal. I'd look at these heavy, majestic, massive, intricate horns and wonder

A)  How the hell do they walk around with those things??

B)  How insanely uncomfortable it must be to have the horns poke through the animals' heads.

Imagine hard, sharp objects fighting to pierce through your scalp. It's like teething from your skull. Babies writhe in agony as their teeth come in, and we parents desperately try to soothe them, knowing there's not much we can do. It's just a shitty process that's biologically necessary.

I am learning that life is a continuous series of shitty, difficult, uncomfortable growth processes. I often write about how growth is hard. That's because it is. Army crawling through dark tunnels of the mind, so that we can come out into the light of the other side. This doesn't appear to ever stop, and while that sounds annoying and exhausting, it also means we never stop growing. No tunnels means no emergence into light.

I have been reading a lot lately on self study, as a means to rework my thoughts and reactions. This is very uncomfortable work. It requires reaching deep into childhood memories to begin to understand our current state of adulthood. Why we react the way we do. Why certain situations trigger the F out of us. Why we are people pleasers, overachievers, why we choose people who enable us to perpetuate unhealthy patterns. Why we always need to be the mouse running through the maze, enduring hits and roadblocks just to get the cheese. It's the cheese we want, right? That little reward at the end that convinces us it was all worth it. We are good little boys and girls if we secured the prize. In my case the cheese is crumbs of affection, which I realized recently I've had to fight for my entire life. This is a hard truth, yet it explains oceans about my behavior and choices. I plan ahead, overdo, and preempt so I can ensure I get the cheese out of self protection. This was never done for me, so my self preservation instincts kicked in long ago so I can help myself. Or rather, I think I'm helping myself by getting that instant gratification, but I'm really harming myself. By focusing on the cheese, my vision of the process becomes very cloudy. I don't see people and scenarios as sharply as I should since I'm going for the prize. This is ironic and ridiculous, given what an observant, tapped in person I am.

I recently went through several instances that have forced me (thank god) to turn inward and figure my shit out. It was time. Time to face facts and gain awareness in order to change. The first step to achieving different results (and I REALLY want different results) is awareness. And awareness is tough because it humbles the shit out of us. It forces us to see how we are far less in control we are than we want to believe. We cling so tightly to convictions, rationalizations, and patterns in order to convince ourselves we have our lives together. It is very hard to admit we don't. However without this admittance, we will forever be stuck. There is no chance of a different outcome without a different process. I have been learning that any suffering and anxiety I feel is a chance to dig deep and approach things differently.

I have read this from Deepak Chopra to life coaches on Instagram. My fave IG coaches are Mark Groves @createthelove and Abraham Hicks; both of these accounts help me tremendously. Anxiety, fear, frustrations, and anger can be seen as blessings. We get to learn about ourselves which will only lead to uncovering better versions of who we are. If we don't look we simply don't find. In my case, the knee buckling fear I feel when I don't feel seen/acknowledged/responded to needed to be addressed. It's insane that a text message from a guy, or lack thereof, should determine the course of my day. None of my reactions stem from insecurities; that would make more sense. I am very aware of what I bring to the table. So then why am I like this? I needed to learn and begin to sort out what are old reactions to what is relevant now. They're all pretty much old butterflies that still come swarming at me now. They're not real though, I conjure them up out of habit. And habits can be broken. It was hard to quit sucking my thumb at 15 (!!) but I did it and now have beautiful teeth. Even harder was to change my diet and workout routines, but now I have a body I truly love. It was difficult to start waking up at 5:45 to go to my sunrise yoga class, but that gave me an entirely new life. I have changed much tougher patterns; I can do this. I am stronger than I give myself credit for, another pattern created from being so used to not receiving credit from others.

Women in general have a hard time crediting ourselves. It's seen as selfish and egotistical. In fact, refusing to learn about ourselves is selfish, because we are unconsciously choosing to deprive our loved ones of our best selves. If we really want to give, which we do, we have to be as emotionally healthy as possible. To not do this work because we don't want to admit we aren't perfect; THAT is the egotistical piece. We will be painfully astounded by what we need to realize about ourselves. There's no room for ego in this process, which is a gift. To have true, pure results out of life we need to face rejection, hurt, confusion, and abandonment. Use rejection as a chance to explore why you are feeling rejected in the first place. Understand all the crazy assumptions and scenarios you concoct in order to gain false control over situations. As soon as I started to see all this, I felt stuff begin to melt away. Shedding skin, leaving old crap behind. Yoga, by the way, teaches all of this. All. Which is why I responded so quickly to its teachings. I was ready to become a new Me, I just needed help.

If I examine my life today, I am factually no longer unseen. I am objectively acknowledged. I am actively living out my dreams and pursuing my passions. I am clear on my purpose and path. On paper I have a completely actualized life that I'm proud of. So to tie up my happiness in a text message or phone call from some dude is nuts. I know I'm a Kween, I just need to align my actions with that fact. And since my actions stem from my reactions, then my reactions needed some serious dissection. In science class, we dissect specimens to learn every detail about them. You are your most important specimen. There is no education without dissection, which requires sharp tools. They say stagnation is death because without change there is no life. It's true, the years of my life that were identical and stagnant weren't such happy years for me. It's unnatural to have all remain status quo. We are nature, and nature demands change. To not evolve is to battle all nature asks of us. Which is why it feels so lousy, even if we can't identify it. In yoga we flow. We stay firm yet flexible. We stay strong yet soft. We believe in ourselves but are humbled to learning more. We change shape while reveling in our firm connection to the earth. We pump ourselves full of self love while simultaneously welcoming space for newness.

Man, I love this practice. But to practice takes discipline. It requires physically and emotionally showing up. It's called a practice, even by the masters, because perfection is never achieved. We are always a work in progress. I love the image of the beautiful lotus emerging from the mud. From ugliness comes beauty. From pain comes wonder. And like the antlers on a deer, we can carry a far heavier load than we ever thought possible.  As we poke through our own thoughts we rise majestically. We teethe like babies to create necessary new stages of growth. How lucky are we to begin to know this? To turn pain into progress. Turning hell into healing. We have every tool needed to do this. Don't be afraid. This is a private journey that you don't need to blog about if you don't want to. That's why I'm here. The first step is understanding fear. The second you start that you are immediately braver. And when you claim back your bravery, that's when you line up with yourself.

Deer God, you so deserve to feel like the warrior you are. But first, the training. You weren't created for a mediocre half life. Go get yourself. You'll fall, cry, and bleed along the way, but forgive yourself for tripping (I'm a perfectionist so this part really challenges me). And if someone makes you feel less than worthy, after constructing the voodoo doll, thank them silently for forcing you to face the need for introspection. Let your pain teach you and guide you to a stronger mental plane. It will be the best trip you ever take. I know you can do this because I can, and we are all the same underneath the layers of nonsense we bury ourselves in. This is such a loaded post and I'm not really sure what the perfect closing line should be. Perhaps giving up the idea of perfection is where I leave you... Yeah, that sounds right.

Love, LB

Blaga Books

Reading is one of the greatest joys in my life. It always has been. I'm proud to be an avid book lover, as well as grateful. Books have been a deep source of calm, enjoyment, excitement, and emotion for me. When I not entrenched in a book I AM PISSED. I'm agitated, like I can snap a pencil in half. When I love a book, and if I don't love it I put it down, all I want to do is curl up and read. Knowing my story is there for me fills me with an old school richness that technology doesn't provide. I love sharing books, so I bring to you all the books that are impacting me deeply. I don't want to summarize or review them. I want this new blog feature to be based on trust.

Let's try it this way; I give you my recommendations and please let me know how (if) you've connected to the story. I'd love to get dialogues going with you about quality literature. I will be selective and only share titles that have knocked my socks off. Special books that I need you to know about. Let's give Instagram a break😉.

The two books that have left me breathless are "Brida" by Paulo Cohelo and "A Man Called Ove" by Fredrik Backman. Both of these will stay with me forever. I have learned incredible lessons from each of them. They have reaffirmed my belief in the purpose of life. I'm a better person for having read them. I can't wait to hear your comments. I am so excited to share another passion of mine with y'all.   

Happy reading, Library Books📚

Viki Jeanne

A few months ago I simply could not get up at 5:45 for my sunrise yoga class (I know, it sounds insane but it's so worth it). I went to another class with a new teacher from Baltimore, who had just arrived fresh from her Thai massage studies in Thailand (redundancy alert). I get very attached and accustomed to my routine, as most of us do, and truthfully when you aren't vibing with a new yoga teacher, it's annoying since the classes are long. This is obviously a lesson in non attachment and flexibility. In being open to new methods and new approaches. It's something we all need to work on, and it only serves us well. For every lousy experience there will be five amazing ones. Well, on this particular day I was introduced to Viki. It was yogi love at first sight. Glowing skin, a calming delivery, a radiance in her eyes, and a deep joy at having just come to our location to teach. What sold me on her was a sentence she said that I will never forget as long as I live. I have called upon it every single day since I first heard it. It was this, "I promise you, you are being taken care of". I have never been spoken to like that before, ever. It was a security I have never had, but I believed her immediately. As I sat grounded to the earth I did feel supported and sustained. Viki said this with such gentle conviction. I was blanketed in safety and love. Such a short phrase that is really all we need to know.

When we feel safe and cared for, we have courage and belief, which lead to pretty much everything. Adults need to hear this just as much as kids do. Think of how many times throughout the day you try to make your kids know they are safe and loved. Who tells this to us? So much adult nonsense comes from fear. If we did ever feel really enveloped and secure, we somehow detach from the root of that as we get older. And things go off the rails in our minds and lives. My orthodox upbringing had really helped me mold so easily to the belief I have in yoga, since faith and belief is built into my wiring. I am deeply grateful for that. I have never questioned God, a higher power, spiritual reincarnation, or the powers of nature. I know I am cared for by the elements because in Judaism we are trained to bless nature all the time. Jewish mysticism is so otherworldly, as is yogic philosophy. It's natural for me to draw from one belief system to the other. Fear is what holds us back from growth and change, for obvious reasons. In that one statement Viki released us from ever needing to rely on fear as a trap. It took my breath away in its truth, and it has allowed me to go forth. Most of my anxieties I previously clung too have melted away. I'm not afraid of change. I know I'll be ok. I have spent holidays and vacations differently than ever before. Forty years of doing something the same way can feel strange to deviate from. Nah, it really doesn't phase me. I feel excited and resilient. What did scare me prior, before I knew I was being taken care of, was living out identical years until I eventually died. That ate at me like crazy. Every change I have made, whether with grace or a measure of trepidation, I owe to my teachers. Sure it was myself too, but they hold my hands from afar. I have started trying to relay this message to my kids more. I don't know if I always did the best job, since I didn't feel safe myself. You can't give what you don't have. But my children seem pretty resilient and steady, which means maybe I've done better than I thought... It's never too early or late to hear these words. My gorgeous Viki, thank you for leaving Baltimore and teaching that class that day at that time. There are no accidents. Meeting you was proof I am indeed being taken care of. I believe you.

Love always, Jess