OOCC: Online Omer Counting Community

Counting on Change- Part One

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Mon, 02 May 2011 05:26:00 +0000

Let me not count the numerous ways that my life has changed, though allow an attempt to explain the after picture on the energetic level. Aside from the obvious physical challenges and hormonal emotions and mental stress, I’ve discovered another arena of transfiguration from my own yoga rabbi triplet-mom experience. Mostly the triplet parent life altogether was a big quake that took everything apart and left me shaky. I knew from the beginning, by finally being pregnant and all, and with three little dots appearing in my uterus, that my life had become extraordinary. What I could not have verbalized until now, and doubtfully so, is the pervasive alteration of my self from the cellular level on to the energetic system.

For one, my life turned inwards. Slowly at first, then I became overcome with protecting the lives inside me. To be clear I wasn’t obsessive, just responsible, and triplet pregnancies are really so on the verge that they require vigilance. It might seem strange, with twin pregnancies so common and not seeming so foreign, but when you add a third or more fetus, even the miraculous nature of pregnancy and childbirth gets pushed beyond its limit. As my OB repeatedly said, and I repeatedly write, the body was not designed for this. Not yours, not mine, not even Octomom who claims that it was all so easy. The sensations I reported were different than other pregnancies and harder to address over the phone, so the doctor wanted a call and visit anytime anything unusual was occurring. That was actually all of the freakin’ time, and I used my discernment (resistance vs. fear) to figure out what merited a call. I had regular appointments every two weeks anyway, then every week, usually with an ultrasound to peek into that dormitory of a womb that was puffing up like a blowfish up inside me. Inwards I turned, to these souls – to guard them with fierce love-, and it demanded tight boundaries blocking out negativity that could so easily do damage.

The belly, about where the baby borrows space, is the center of self-knowing, of the gut, of intuition. Energetically, according to the chakra system and according to the sefirot, it is the place where all is held in balance, including self-esteem and confidence. Much more should be said about this, which chakras are involved, the kabbalistic parallels too– another time though. I’ve been searching for writing about how that identity center changes during pregnancy and in the absence of another expert I have developed my own theory. This is in progress, and my first attempt at explaining my thoughts about this process.

In pregnancy the identity center gets displaced, replaced in a sense by the fetus that literally takes center stage. The woman’s own energetic self becomes layered with this other being, competing for blood, nutrients, energy and space. These factors are all limited so finding a balance demands a great deal on the whole person; physically, mentally, emotionally, in regards to time, space, thought, movement, energy intake, etc. There is a narrow market for real estate in the body, and the growing baby not only protrudes outward but pushes inward, rearranging the interior arrangement of vital organs, even growing up into the ribs and lungs taking up airspace. Yes, the uterus has amazing capabilities for accommodating its baby, for reckoning nutrients and hydration, but I don’t think it is designed to communicate and makes nice with the bladder, the kidneys, the lungs, the vagina, the stomach nor the intestines nor legs or feet. The rest of the body gets drawn in unwittingly and can be gracious or cranky. With multiple pregnancies, of course the pace is faster and the changes more radical; the demands multiply exponentially and push every boundary to the breaking point. Understanding the physical pressures is the beginning. Then consider the energy centers that provide a woman’s sense of self, knowing truth, holding soul strength. What happens when the center of identity and intuition is pushed aside? Where does it go? How does it mutate and adapt to nurture the child and the mother-baby bond? With complete merging of identify, how does the identity-intuition center of the woman ultimately respond with resilience so she can be herself again? Once the organs and energy centers have been forever changed (and blessed with this relationship), can the self and soul certainty ever return? How long does this rebound take after the womb has been emptied and the baby begins a life outside of the mother’s body?

Today is the 13th day of the Omer.

This is Part One; Part Two should arrive tomorrow.
Please share your responses, thoughts, and your own experiences in the comment section below.

The Sun Has Come Out

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Sun, 01 May 2011 19:34:00 +0000

Laughter so forceful I couldn’t even speak, surely the sun has come out. It was naptime and I put on the iPod music that has been lulling my girls to sleep for nearly three years. Sat down on the floor to help E get her jammies on (a habit from the days when we had to zip up footies backwards to be sure diapers would stay on) and noticed that the song playing was not from Classical Music for Babies but was Alicia Keys. The girls noticed too, I knew because they spontaneously started dancing.

Sometimes I get anxious for that moment of closing the door to heads down, though today I enjoyed the moment and watched my girls dance. At first they were jumping, then jump spinning, then freestyle. They were all enjoying themselves, totally feeling the music and moving to their own beat. Especially so was E, who looked like she was ice skating. Words cannot fully describe the expression on her face that caused me to break out in laughter, first silent, trying to hide my face, then uncontrollably loud and shaking. They all hovered in, thinking that I was crying.

E was spinning very, very (l’at l’at) slowly with her face lifted gracefully upwards. Her eyes drooped half closed and her placid expression seemed to come from another realm. She spun to the low guardrail of her bed and did some complicated, seemed-like-choreographed move while holding the bars. Again and again her body moved in an amazing beautiful sequence. Then, she spun back out, still with that trance-like expression. Her hands reached for mine and we swayed together, arms extended straight out like sleep walkers. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and kept her chin high, face lifted towards the heavens, with her eyes half closed, looking nowhere. In the moment I watched her, looking kind of strange. Loving how she was in her own place, not knowing exactly where that was, I was so amused. Her countenance was so funny looking, perhaps deep, mystical, perhaps goofy or aloof, but just odd and unlike her usual expressions.

I looked down and smiled, then up again to resume our dance. Then I turned my head to try to get my husband’s attention but I couldn’t even speak and mostly didn’t want to ruin the moment. Eventually my smile turned into silent shaking, then audible laughter. Long and deep laughter.

How awesome is it that the song playing at that moment was “I am Superwoman”, a personal favorite that somehow dropped off my iTunes. Somewhere in that trance induced hysterics a click of clarity appeared and I thought to myself “I am laughing.” It felt good, this whole body laughter, so much so that I just had to commemorate it in writing. The sun was shining on me, filling my heart with blessing, taking over to heal me in ways that I cannot do myself. Three girls in jammies dancing, one in a mystic dervish moment, and me watching, joining the dance, and being returned to wholeness.

Baruch Atah/Brucha At Yah Eloheinu Ruach HaOlam haMatir Assurim. Blesssed are You, Source of Soul, who frees the imprisoned, who releases me from mental, emotional, and spiritual slavery to know the joy of dance and whole body laughter. Let us dance and laugh together to revelation, complete illumination. Amen.

Today is the 12th day of the Omer.

Dear readers, please share your comments with me and others who visit the OOCC. Look at the bottom of this post where it says “0 comments” (or maybe another number!), and click right on that to bring up your comment box.

Watch Superwoman video.
(Image above courtesy of people-clipart.com)

Lost Count - of # of surprises!

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 20:39:00 +0000

I can’t count the number of surprises I’ve had the past few days. After an hour or so of post-bedtime giggling, I went into the girls’ room to tell them to go to sleep. I found two girls in one crib, and the other still in her crib alone. I turned on my heels and ran down the hall to find my husband, who informed me that he had not moved anyone from their own bedtime spot. Sometimes we do let them “fall asleep” together or just play together for a while before separating them into their own cribs.

Turning on my heels again I hurried back to the room. N and E had that “cat-ate-the-bird” grin on their faces. Puzzled, I asked: “N, how did you get in there? Show us (by then, my husband was right behind me) how you did it.” She hesitated, then I assured her that its ok. In a blur of a half second she bounded over the side of the crib and landed feet on the floor. Surprise, kid on the loose!

Again I closed the door to three girls in three separate cribs. The squeaking and laughter didn’t stop, so eventually I opened that door once again. Surprise! All three girls were in ONE crib. Now I knew we had two flying monkeys.

Another time, I opened that door to find two little figures busy as bees in the dark. One was handing a toy over the crib to the one sister who hadn’t left her perch. Surprise! They are bold in their rebellion. With as little emotion as possible, I plopped them back in their cribs and repeated the mantra. The short version is “stay in your crib!” I’m in trouble now.

The next morning I awoke to sounds of a toy stroller rolling past my bedroom door. The mischief continues.

Last night they all woke up one at a time just when I was ready to go to sleep. First I brought H into bed with us and she was snug as a bug in a rug. When the other two started crying I knew I was doomed. They never go back to sleep when I go in to comfort them, and sure enough after a long while of making nice, rubbing backs, and holding tightly, they resumed crying when I pulled back my hand. All three girls joined us in bed, jogging for space, squirming and fighting over which one got more of me. Little E was on my chest, head heavy and hard into my chin. H made a pillow of her blanked on my left shoulder and rubbed her thumb sucking cheek against mine, and N bent herself over on my legs (until she found her favorite sleeping place on top of her Abba). When this sweet picture inevitably turned into elbows in the face I brought each girl back to her crib and let them cry it out. This morning E appeared at my feet.

At the moment they are napping and N and E are in their very own beds, converted this morning from cribs by yours truly. Instead of surprise on my face -as has become so frequent- I unlocked the door after fun with the Allen wrench to a bewildered N. Surprise! You have your own bed, no more crib. She stared, face as confused as I was to discover she could fly into her sisters’ crib. A smile began as she approached her bed yet she didn’t know what to do. I encouraged her to try it out, taught her how to (properly) get in and out, and repeated the mantra “you stay in your bed until we get you out.”

As usual, I let my children tell me when they’re ready for change and it happens before I feel ready. I tucked them in for nap in the “new” beds after a little more work on the next crib conversion and a late lunch of rice pasta with olive oil. H was a bit sad that she’s still in a crib, and I was a bit sad to look back into the room at big girl beds. They showed me that it was time to say goodbye to baby cribs and they surprised me with their tremendous wisdom. I am the one who has to catch up, who feels rushed to the next stage. Potty training was the same way. And eating with utensils, And eating solid foods. Each time, the girls (usually one at a time) told me they wanted to try something new. I let them experiment and gave some pointers. These girls are awesome. They are resilient, adventurous, caring, smart and so darn gorgeous. They constantly surprise me.

Today I had the joyous opportunity to surprise them, to show them what they were seeking with the crib climbing mischief flying monkey behavior. I heard their call, and responded to their need, even though it was outside my comfort zone. Frightened and awed by the way they are claiming their freedom, I will find clever ways to create boundaries for their (God willing safe) exploration. Conversely, I hope to break through my own constricting boundaries with the same brave, bold, confident and natural movement toward freedom.

for you: if you could fly, where would you go? what would you leave behind? who are your teachers?

Tonight will be 10+1 days of the Omer. Shabbat Shalom!

Minus Seventy-Seven

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 03:24:00 +0000

Help me get clear about this: am I total failure? Or just a partial failure? It’s one thing when you start out strong and eventually run out of steam. But this year I started out super late the first night, already empty, tired, with only my aspirations for a meaningful daily Omer writing practice on the fumes of resolve. Counting even with the blessing is something I have managed to do each night, and maybe I should celebrate that accomplishment for its own merit. Instead, I berate myself for failing to fulfill my promise to write and post each night the OOCC. On the topic of that internal critic, I’m realizing the irony of choosing the topic “Counting to Clarity” when at times I can barely form sentences and often I just want to be quiet.

When a friend noticed that I had lost some weight a few months back I acknowledged it saying “finally my body is starting to come back, and depending on if I use actual pre-pregnancy weight or my during fertility treatment weight, I only have 30-40 more pounds to go”. That’s how I see it- how far I am from my goal, from looking and God willing feeling, like myself. The subtlety there is that from the inside I am forever changed and the larger sizes and overstretched skin doesn’t even begin to reveal the story.

For months I could tell you I have thirty more pounds to lose to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight, and the last time I was pregnant was over 2 ½ (or now closer to 3) years ago. And you might think, my goodness, isn’t that a lot? Many women don’t even gain that much weight for the pregnancy, much less take three years to lose it. Or maybe you would be more compassionate and understanding about the way that pregnancy totally changes a body physically and chemically, how there is no time to care for yourself with a newborn or toddler, how most new mothers struggle with self care and losing weight they have gained while expecting or even after baby comes home.

But then that friend turned the tables and asked how much I’d lost. It sounded so much different when I heard myself say that I’d lost seventy pounds. That is huge. How big I was loomed even bigger when I pictured dropping that much weight. The remaining fraction seemed smaller and less significant compared to the majority of pounds that were already behind me. I still had thirty more to go to the number on my driver’s license (130), though in reality I used to be 135, and after bloating from months of fertility treatments I was 145 before finally getting that BFP (big fat positive)! As an act of motherly love, as all mothers do, I sacrificed my body for my babies. Following expert advice I gained a ton of weight for the sake of my triplets. 235 was where I stopped counting, having gained over one hundred pounds.

And now I’ve lost seventy-seven pounds and don’t want to take credit for it as an accomplishment. It feels more like something that just happened, thankfully, luckily, blessedly. As deliberately as I wanted to get pregnant and then to gain lots of weight for my extreme pregnancy, I have no idea why getting pregnant with good old S-E-X didn’t work for us, nor do I know why it took so long to lose weight, or why it finally started happening. From the doctor’s office I updated facebook with my happy news (down seven more for a total of seventy-seven pounds gone!) and love that friends are celebrating with me. Alongside the congratulatory comments (to which I still want to say “but there’s still 23 lbs more!”) are questions about my secret to weight loss.

The secret revealed to me today is the importance of celebrating and sharing our celebratory moments. Just as for sure I have shared my pain and insanity, I have tried to share my sweetness, joy and laughter. I absolutely love that people feel healing from seeing pictures and videos and status updates from the triplet toddler show that is my life. That sharing has been deliberate, and I revel in my girls. Celebrating them is not the same as appreciating myself, and that is a challenge for me. Though clarity itself still seems far away, I am counting on its eventual arrival and will do my part by trying to replace negative perception with positive self -commentary. As certain as tonight is the tenth night of the Omer, I have succeeded in counting each night this year, and tonight I am contributing to OOCC. As of today, I am seventy-seven pounds lighter than I was in June 2008, and today I celebrate my success. Today I seek healing for myself and offer my story for service.

For your comments:
What are you celebrating? What success can we celebrate with you?

Off the Mat, Up to the Table

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Sun, 24 Apr 2011 19:11:00 +0000

Today is the 5th Day of the Omer!

Shavua tov and Chag Sameach! Though Seders are over, we're back to the table for the festive end to Passover.

Enjoy this piece I wrote for LA Yoga and Ayurveda Magazine - "Off the Mat, Up to the Table".

:: April 2007 Volume 6/Number 3

Off the Mat, Up to the Table

Experiencing Jewish Yoga.

By Rabbi Heather Altman

Passing food, chattering, singing, laughing and perhaps even arguing may not be quite the image of contemplative tranquility that one imagines for spiritual practice. Yet spiritual growth occurs in the midst of community just as in the solitude on our yoga mats.

As a rabbi and yoga teacher, for me, yoga is a method for reclaiming the embodied Jewish traditions. The Jewish calendar celebrates a cycle of spiritual holidays that feature tangible opportunities for marrying personal spiritual growth with nudging from a lively extended family.

Sitting down for the annual Passover seder is like stepping back on the mat for yoga practice; cumulative experiences of familiarity, probing and deepening take each diner to a unique place. Attention on breath teaches us that our inhalation relates to intentional intake. The ritualistic actions of the seder unite intention and practice the moment we place a taste on our lips.

The Passover seder is a ritual reenactment of the Israelites’ exodus from slavery in Egypt to the promise of arrival in Israel. The seder is a kinesthetic experience that headlines freedom, and this journey from slavery to liberation is a central theme repeated daily in Jewish prayer and practice. Gratitude for redemption from oppression permeates our lives each and every day.

Through this annual community-based celebration of freedom, we are compelled to examine our inner lives and clean house (both literally and spiritually) of anything fermenting within our bodies, minds and souls. The eight-day lifestyle change recalls an intense yoga retreat with pranayama (attention to and control of the breath), detoxification, spiritual inventory and returning to the basics of asana (posture).

"Through each breath and each bite we enact the ultimate intention of yoga and Jewish spiritual practice: creating unity, fostering a deep internal connection, and freeing each soul to act with love, compassion and service."When communities of Jews worldwide gather for the Passover seder, we expect to participate in traditional family rituals with symbolic foods and a retelling of the ancient journey from slavery in Egypt. We may anticipate overeating, quarreling with a cranky uncle and playing games. Together we will imagine, as generations before us have done, that we ourselves were slaves in Egypt. We may relate these feelings to the enslavement we experience enmeshed in addictions, family expectations, financial burdens or political disillusionment. We eat matzoh, the unleavened bread of affliction that symbolizes humility and the necessity of rushing to freedom. We eat raw horseradish and remember the bitterness of oppression, and charoset (a mixture of apples and walnuts) reminiscent of the bricks our ancestors built while enslaved by Pharoah.

We pause to meditate on the symbolism of food, eating and sharing a meal, and connection or lack thereof between nourishment and healthy body image. At a deeper level, we create a spiritual community in a wholly embodied experience.
One expression of this spiritual journey involves facing personal challenge. Every excursion on the mat provides the opportunity to breathe; this is akin to the challenges faced at a community table, especially with family where you may be tempted to stuff feelings or become numb through imbibing wine. The enticements of a full table may create other gastronomic allurements. Through the ritual meal, you may face your own spiritual heritage, and it may feel foreign and irrelevant. True freedom is not wandering off on your own, freedom is distinct from escape in that it involves journeying within roots and relationship in sacred community.

I experienced a specific entré in this journey when I led a Passover seder in a maximum security women’s prison. The Jewish inmates were serving life sentences, and yet they looked forward each year to celebrating a freedom that they surrendered in criminal acts. One woman taught me that it was only within prison where she found freedom of thought. That is precisely the spiritual practice of Passover.

Through each breath and each bite we enact the ultimate intention of both yoga and Jewish spiritual practice: creating unity, fostering a deep internal connection, and freeing each soul to act with love, compassion and service. In both traditions, these pursuits require partnership with others via our family and community as well as partnership with the divine.

In the midst of matzoh ball soup, traditions and heated discussions, we are called to struggle, claim our souls and connect to our whole mishpacha (family). Our personal seeking can engender great rewards; the deepest spiritual development ripens with creation of sangha, yogic spiritual community or kehilla, Hebrew conscious interconnected community. This meal may involve surprising dining partners as we break matzoh in a raucous spiritual learning community, moving through ritual together, sharing breath, intention, song and joy.

Four Step Shabbat Personal Practices

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 20:26:00 +0000

Today is day three of the Omer, add one and you have the day that begins tonight (Friday night April 22).

I only just managed to post day #3 and will do a different format for this Shabbat Omer counting. Four step personal spiritual practices follow!

Tefilla Yoga
[If you live in or near Chicago, join me tomorrow morning for Tefilla Yoga. The practice will be supportive to bodies who've been exposed to harsh matzoh, late nights, and changing schedules, travel and tiredness. Expect some enjoyable embodiment and restorative poses. 8:00-9:30 am @ Anshe Emet, 3751 N Broadway Chicago]

Do these practice all together or at different times of the night/day.

1. Shabbat Shalom! Light Shabbat candles. Cover your eyes and say the bracha for Shabbat candlelighting. Keep your eyes covered and add personal blessings. Talk to God, ask for what you need, then for blessings for those in your life. Include those who love and support you who are easy to bless, and also people who may not give you what you need, but still need your blessings. May Divine light illuminate your Shabbat, care for you, bring you rest and support.

2. Find a spot to sit. Notice your posture and allow yourself to sit up tall, shoulders wide and down, chest open. Notice your breath. Shift into breathing in through your nostrils deep into your lungs, slowly - generously. Exhale slowly and fully through your nostrils. Repeat for a total of four cycles, breathing in the gift of life, divine breath moving your soul in and through your body. *You may want to sit in front of your Shabbat candles, gazing at the flames dancing.

3. Find open wall space and bring a pillow or blanket. Sit on the floor (or pillow/blanket) really close to the wall, with one hip next to wall, knees bent. Slide onto the floor on your side, roll onto your back, and put your legs up the wall. Adjust the pillow/blanket under your hips. Let yourself settle in here, giving your feet and legs a break. Relax your jaw and neck. Pay attention to how you feel, notice what changes over the next four (or so) minutes. *You may want to first cleanse and exfoliate your face and hands, and apply a mask to your face. Relax into this pose as the mask removes impurities from your skin. Remember to moisturize afterwards.

4. Lay on your back in Shabbatsana. Slide your shoulders down away from your ears, neck long, face relaxed. Let your body be heavy, feel yourself held and supported. Four is the number of Imahot, the Mothers. Invoke the mothers in your life, sources of life, nourishment, nurturing, wisdom. They may be alive in the world now, or no longer, your family or not, female or male. Feel them holding you, blessing you. Remember what a miracle you are, just for being born, for the strength of your soul residing in your body. Realize that with all your talents and accomplishments, your soul is on this Omer journey, moving from constraint to freedom, from burden to joy. Notice where you feel clouded or heavy and where you feel bright and light. Celebrate both. Count the Omer. Tonight is the fourth night of the Omer.

Favorite Number

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 22 Apr 2011 19:54:00 +0000

written last night: Tonight I think I can count three seconds before I pass out from exhaustion. Long hours driving with late Seder nights and kids coming into our bed crying were one thing. An overly ambitious "vacation" day today was what did me in. [fall into sleep]

written today about yesterday: In three days, we drove 5 hours to Michigan, had 2 Seders, moved from the original hotel that was filthy and falling apart to a nice clean hotel, and drove back to Chicago. The earliest I got to sleep each of those three nights was midnight, and as is normal on family road trips I didn't get any quiet time alone, not even in the bathroom folks. After a fun filled family fest and a relatively quiet late late night drive home, I woke up in my own bed. With an out-of-town friend visiting Chicago and no Gan for the girls, I decided to take everyone to a museum. Decisions made on lack of sleep don't usually turn out well. Nevertheless, we made it a full day, beyond what I can usually expect of myself. We started at the Museum of Science and Industry and watched the chickies hatch, put on three diapers for nap time in the car ride to pick Haley up from school in Indiana (and back), then went to Navy Pier. Haley wanted and got a hair wrap and the little girls found sparkly little purses that I was happy to get as a souvenir. Three purses - one pink, one purple, one black. We had lunch in the car, a noise melt down in the museum, one minor accident in the store. It was six pm by the time we got home, all cranky and hungry. The three little girls were in bed by eight, and by then I could barely move. I did manage to say the bracha and count the third day of the Omer.

"Today is the third night of the Omer", and as you know, I'm always counting threes. It has become my number. If I ever played a team sport (those of you who know me well are laughing now) I would have the number three on my jersey. Even though I have four girls, the triplet three trumps everything. You've heard this before, I've thought it before, these three souls leave an imprint of three on everything in my world. I'll leave it at that for now. The third day of the Omer is ending and Shabbat is coming soon. I pray that Shabbat brings us rest we all need after an exhausting week - and that once the tiredness recedes we will see the beauty of the holiday experience.

Nearly blew it before it began

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Thu, 21 Apr 2011 06:30:00 +0000

I nearly blew it. Close to midnight, moments after zipping and locking up the little girls (triplets under 3 years old up way too late for the second night in a row) in their portable tent beds (we highly recommend the Peapod) I suddenly whispered to my closed-eyed husband. Startling him out of falling asleep in the hotel bed, I quietly recited the bracha and counted the first night of the Omer. After almost completely forgetting, I wanted a witness, though not too reliable in his slumber, to hear me announce the first night.

(The girls are excited to ride the hotel luggage cart, which they call "shopping cart", and to stay up super late for Passover Seders.)

It's usually counted at the Seder table, that is if you actually do the whole Seder from start to finish. There were young adult years when Seders were that generous luxurious time for exploration and late night singing of that last "next year in Jerusalem." But not here, our Seder order ended with the festive meal, as many families do from lack of interest in the whole exacting deal. Seder actually means "order" and there are 14 steps this at home table ritual. Full of symbolism, interesting objects and foods, the telling of the Haggadah includes stories, laws and songs all intended to elicit discussion. Even guised as "traditional" and viewed by attendees as way too long, these Seders did not complete the order nor fulfill it in more than the most basic reading. Not to say that it wasn't a great way to connect with family nor anything but an amazing feat of a feast. The meal was delicious and the sixty plus family members were wonderful company. The children demonstrated their beautiful singing voices, showed off their day school education in Hebrew fluency and song familiarity and were adorable - including my 2 year olds who each sang the beginning of Ma Nishtana. The Passover production was impressive for its scale, efficacy, beauty and carrying out of traditions. That said, of the four cups, we only poured two. Elijah and Miriam were both ignored, and I felt their absence. And of other steps skipped, we neglected to count the Omer.

I married into a large family that actually has a family club that meets monthly and for annual events in the Detroit suburbs where most still reside. They have enormous pots and pans for mass cooking and everything else needed to make a special and elegant holiday. The aunt and uncle who host Passover actually built their house to accomodate the huge crowd. The Seder takes place in the elegant living room, that more resembles a hotel lobby. Coming from my own family with our own (different) traditions and as a rabbi who has thought lots about my ideal Seder experience (and led some good ones), I can offer a commentary full of compliments and constructive criticism, but for tonight my only comment is this. We didn't count the Omer. How many of you counted the Omer together at Seder last night?

To be fair to the leader, I myself didn't even think about completing the Seder. I was too busy trying to catch up with the cousins and listen out for cries of my children, the new inductees to the basement mayhem.

So tired from the cleaning and kashering and cooking and setting and serving, sometime we lose sight of the spiritual cycle. The big day takes so much out of us, we totally or nearly forget that it is a kick off event, not the end itself. Just like wedding planning it consumes as much time as the engagement allows, preparing for the relationship of marriage is usually neglected. Immersing in the preparation is its own process, and also part of a bigger picture. Pause for an aha moment - that's the story of my with baby triplets. Diapering, feeding, cleaning, dressing the children - it doesn't leave freedom to think, to read, to evaluate. I suppose no matter how little prep we do, those next stages will arrive (God willing) for us to find ourselves in bed counting the Omer seconds before sleep - or having that intimate conversation - or envisioning the children with their own families.

The girls were so wired even at midnight that after jumping on the bed and running around the room I just forced them into their Peapods and locked the zipper (with twist ties - did I ever tell you how they trashed the hotel room in Memphis?) Efforts at crying lasted less then thirty seconds, then they were too tired to try. One second of silence was followed by a wimper from E, then came 2 seconds of silence. I was counting the space in between the crying when I realized that I hadn't counted the first night of the Omer!

More than just counting, before we actually count the day of the Omer (out of 49, listed by days and weeks), we say a bracha (blessing). If you remember to count the Omer at night (when the "day" begins on Jewish time) you begin with the blessing. If you don't count until the next day, then you can't say the blessing. Admittedly I'll be happy if I count to 49 night or day, though I'd love to get all the blessings in. Blessings are special, they are blessings after all.

Tonight I said the bracha in the dark somewhere between Detroit and Chicago, using Omer Counter 2.0 on my iPhone. By then I was sitting in the way back, between Haley and N. One girl wanted me to help her sleep and the other needed me once she awoke.

Earlier in the ride it had been really quiet. I had nothing more to say to the driver and I realized that it was a good time for a talk with myself. I led myself in a little internal Seder of my own. I started with some venting, then went a bit deeper into a section that regrettably was edited out of our Seders, before I bored myself and was ready to eat some chocolate. The Four Children is a section of the telling that I've always loved in text and through numerous artistic depictions. There are four archetypes of children that can be seen as four different types of religious experience, four learning styles, four personalities, or four family roles. In discussing them we try to identify ourselves and get to hear our families thoughts about our self perception. I love that the archetype with which we identify most can change from year to year. I have been the Hacham, the wise child, immersed in Torah Study, fascinated with laws and traditions. I have been the Rasha in more recent years; the one who feels apart from tradition and questions the value of organized religion. For me being the Rasha was questioning faith or feeling mired in struggle without relief that. The all consuming life changing triplet pregnancy and parenthood also casts me as the Tam, the simple one who doesn't know what to ask - or who is indifferent to the answer. Sometimes the thread holding us in the tribe is very thin.

My realization tonight is that this year I relate to the One Who Cannot Ask. In some ways I've lost my voice. Different than when I was younger and learned how my voice had been taken away, then worked on taking it back, now something different is happening. I'm not clear on it all yet, which I remind myself is why the theme of the Omer is "Counting to Clarity". There's no Haggadah that tells me what I'm supposed to say to the world, no written curriculum for my spiritual development and no job description that's a role written for me. I know who I am and, at the same time, I don't know. I don't know what is to come and where I should be so vocal, or where I should listen for guidance. I'm not clear how to let spirit guide me and also act responsibly to my family's financial needs. I am both articulate and also inarticulate. I am both gifted with unique talents and expertise and also need variety and flexibility. I both want to honor what I'm meant to bring to the world and also have some balance and enjoyment. I am both clear about what I stand for and unclear about where my next step will lead.

Thankfully, I have this counting and the season that leads to clarity. One day at at time, I will bless the path from narrowly defined dark enslaved places to the free and clear and bright illuminated destination.

Tonight/today is the second day of the Omer.

For you: what was missing from your Seder experience that you want to include in your self-led Seder? What traditions/patterns in your life work? which don't work for you?

Counting to Clarity (for Tues pm April 19)

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Sun, 17 Apr 2011 19:29:00 +0000

The counting begins on the second night of Passover, usually at the Seder itself. I won't post on the holiday days or on Shabbat, so for those days I will (do my best to) write in advance.

Counting to Clarity

My mind starts spinning when I think about Passover’s past and all the momentous moments marked in my life by this holiday. When I steady myself I realize I’ve been hit with a ton of awareness. It’s like Passover itself is a psycho-spiritual reality show and I am the contestants and viewers all.

Senior year of High School Passover arrived right after my Dad became paralyzed and we had Seder in the hospital; it was far from the idyllic feast from years past. Here’s where everything exploded. I encountered existential pain and confusion, and said goodbye to the illusion of coming from a “normal” family. On my own as never before while my mom cared for my dad, without advanced coping skills, I found myself lost. Trauma set off a serious need for re-ordering life that would take years to unfold – and some self medicating to deal until I found the help I needed. Freshman year of college I fell deeper into stuffing my feelings with food and then started to see how I had been compulsively overeating to blur my feelings. My first clean days were during Passover. The religious focus on food was a nice excuse for changing habits. Beyond avoiding chametz, I delved into self awareness, seeking, searching, listening, learning, reading, writing, working it out. For me Passover is my birthday, the anniversary of setting out on my soul’s path of healing.

In the metaphor that life is a spiral, I have a seam at Passover. Year to year, as time spirals onward, Passover bleeps loud and a line of serious life changing events forms. The rest of the year between, I submerge back into cloudiness, unaware even that I’m anticipating a certain surge of soul development. Not that I’m completely blurry at all other times, but markedly less aware of the change that is brewing.

The season stirs up the soul cycle. Spring-into-summer sun light shines first gently then bright, as opposed to the cloud cover and short dark days of winter. The spiritual cycle known as the dark night of the soul demonstrates that our soul lives can go underground to an obscure, opaque place where we can’t perceive them; that is the dark night. When dawn comes, our spiritual journey comes into our sight line again. My soul cycle seems to match the Jewish calendar’s Omer counting that begins with Pesach.

Passover is only the beginning, the first steps out of the darkness. The Omer is seven sets of seven days, each one leading toward the ultimate illumination – revelation itself. Just the act of counting each day, remembering to do this practice for seven weeks is a spiritual practice of building awareness. As we count, the days lengthen,, the buds turn to flowers, the world becomes green and sunny. We take account of what we see, hear, smell, touch, think, feel, sense. We begin to notice desire and direction. With each counting blessing we acknowledge: today is a day, with its own character, its own significance, its own teachers and lessons, gifts and challenges. Today we are one day closer to strength, freedom and clarity. Today we remember years past when clarity emerged out of the clouds.

This Omer season is devoted to counting towards clarity.
Count with me. Count to clarity.

(for Tuesday night April 19) Tonight is the first night of the Omer.
How to count the Omer

Journal: What does Counting to Clarity mean to you? What first comes to mind when you think about clarity? What is clear/true/essential to you? What is un-clear, cloudy, in formation for you? Is there a particular question for which you seek clarity during this Omer period? An issue? Decision?

Countdown to Counting (of a different kind) 5771/2011

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 19:48:00 +0000

My personal connection to Omer counting began when I was precariously pregnant with triplets and desperately counting on more and more days of development.

That was the first year ever that I successfully counted every day, and immediately thereafter I went into (premature) labor.

Last year, with three children under 2 and a cancer-laden father living with us, I opened the Online Omer Counting Community to create a contemplative space for counting together.

My hope is that you will read and enjoy, remember to make each day count, and that you will share your thoughts in the space for comments. I'm pretty much writing each day with minimal editing, so you can do the same. Your comments, all together, will create the sense of community for reflection on this period of spiritual growth - or at least anticipation of revelation and illumination.

To catch you up to speed, read my original inspiration piece below!

Check back, subscribe or follow me on twitter (Rav Yoga) for daily (God willing) posts beginning Monday.

Shabbat Shalom u'mevorach,
Heather

Counting of a Different Kind: Anticipating the Omer
written and originally published in April 2009

Last year was different in a whole lot of ways. Every Passover I resolve to succeed at counting the Omer daily. How hard could it be to count 49 days? It starts out easy at the Seder on the second night. Today is the first day of the Omer. All I have to do is remember to say one sentence each day for the next 48 days, those leading up to the next major Jewish holiday Shavuot. Every year I failed; it seems the challenge wasn't big enough or meaningful enough for me to take so seriously. After all Shavuot would arrive seven weeks later whether or not I was counting days.

Last year counting was a matter of life and death. Counting is a serious thing. A superstitious Jewish custom forbids counting people as numbering lives diminishes them. This wisdom came long before the Shoah when the Nazis tattooed numbers for name replacements on our people's arms. At the same time, we encourage community and require ten people gathered for most prayer services, and even three for an official opening to the grace after meals.

In ancient times these days between Passover and Shavuot were a time of uncertainty and a struggle of hope and faith and fear and longing. My ancestors in the wilderness left slavery for a promising yet precarious future and they marched on through the desert motivated by a glimmer of redemption that they didn't fully expect. When we look back today, we know that the reward was the revelation of Torah on Shavuot, but they did not know that. Their grumbling and faltering shows that they barely believed, nor expected a gift of any sort.

One year ago Passover I was in my 25th week of pregnancy with triplets. Most people count months of pregnancy but when you are carrying triplets you actually count days. Zero percent of triplet pregnancies make it full term, and they are so fragile that there is a high chance of spontaneous abortion until you reach 20 weeks. Fifty percent of triplet pregnancies are delivered by 32 weeks, minimally eight weeks premature. Until 28 weeks gestation chances of survival are tiny, and the likelihood of serious life altering complications are great. Every single day the babies stay inside the womb and grow increases their chances for life and for health.

Once the 20 week mark went by I took a breath - just one. Then I looked at the calendar and set my next goal. Instead of the 28 week mark, I would switch to the Jewish calendar, striving to count through the entire period of the Omer and through Shavuot. That would put me at exactly 33 weeks. From there I would reevaluate and set a new goal.

In contrast to years past, all I could do last year was count. I counted another day of keeping my babies alive, another day for them to grow, another day for building fat reserves to keep them warm, another day for their lungs to develop so they could hopefully breathe on their own. Each day in the womb reduces the days in the NICU by multiples.

When we held our first Seder I was 25 weeks and 5 days pregnant with my triplets. I was already confined to home, barely able to walk, triplet heavy with babies. My belly was already the size of a full term singleton pregnancy. Instead of a cloth napkin I used a table cloth. I counted my weight gain. I counted the clothes I outgrew. I counted the vitamins I swallowed. I labored over breath. I had few moments of sleep or comfort the entire pregnancy.

I counted to keep myself going. I did not know how much I could endure nor what outcome would befall me or when. I was at the mercy of fate and fellow. I had no choice but to let people help, to force a smile on my pained face to offer thanks for food delivered, meals served. It is difficult now for me to recount the details and to face the reality that I endured. Triplet pregnancies are amazing and all, but they are not pretty. As my doctor said again and again, bodies aren't made to carry three babies. It is miraculous that my uterus accommodated three babies, yet no cell of my being managed to make it through unaffected.

I went into labor towards the end of Shavuot. Even though I reached my goal of completing the Omer counting, 33 weeks was still too soon. As much as I wanted to meet these babies, I wanted them to grow bigger inside me even if it meant tolerating more hugeness and more heaviness and more hell. If I were to be really honest about the whole thing I would tell you in detail how I lost all my dignity, how vanity and self were decimated as I surrendered moment by moment with determination to do right by these souls.

Writing these words, I cannot continue to be present to the teary memories of those thirty-three weeks and the four days that followed, so I fast forward until Shabbat arrived with an eerie yet elegant air of serenity. The Shabbat Queen surely entered and changed the quality of time as I enjoyed dinner with my husband, step-daughter and father-in-law. The next morning I awoke to silence and sunrise over Lake Michigan. Upon awakening I couldn't predict that counting days was complete and by the next morning and for the rest of my life I would be counting in threes. Counting with confidence in the outcome is relegated to the past. Now I do not expect that just because I am counting the revelation will be granted. Far from simple, when we begin to count we cannot expect we will reach completion. When each day is a matter of life or death, we must count carefully and consciously.

49 - Amazing Accomplishment

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Tue, 18 May 2010 03:07:00 +0000

Body warming into that deep state of relaxation, tummy-to-tummy, milk sippy resting on my chest, baby making those sweet suckling noises, I was in bliss. For just a moment, when my nearly two year old youngest settled into position on my lap, I looked down and it was almost if she was nursing at my breast.

And then I started melting, body simulating the hormone cocktail of oxytocin and prolactin I hadn't enjoyed since those days when I was actually breastfeeding and pumping for my triplets. Yes, I remembered, I produced mother's milk for three babies at once.

Those maternity nurses thought I was crazy to insist that they bring me the pump right when I returned from the OR, or that I set an alarm to wake me for pumping every few hours. They thought it a bad idea that I go visit my new babies in the middle of that first night after only several hours of sleep, to hand deliver precious drops of colustrum. Forget about the silver spoon, I was giving my girls liquid gold.

For three weeks in the Neotatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) my preemie triplets got breastmilk for every feeding. There sometimes was formula mixed in to compensate as my production caught up to demand, but for the most part I was providing their sustenance. At first they needed feeding tubes, but I was determined to breast feed, and they started to get the hang of it before they left the hospital to come home. That was still a month before their due date.

Once home, I nursed all three and as you might imagine I turned from incubator to milk producer. Alternating who got the left and who got the right, and who got to tandem nurse and who got me all to herself, and pumping after each feeding, it was the most special, amazing intriguing process. Incredibly important to me to nurse my children, those early months were all about the boobs. I was determined and knew it was possible, and this was one thing that I would not add to my list of mothering losses. My expectation, my normal. That my body did this extraordinary job of giving life to three babies at once and nourishing them for months doesn't cross my mind as I go through life -- ever.

Earlier today, a friend sent me an admiring note of appreciation, and in my mind I immediately started denying her affirmation of my roles. She wrote “You are an amazing -----, -----, ----, mother, -------, -----.” My immediate reaction was to list the many reasons why I am not that. At least I didn't let myself go there. But I could, and I don't even want to elaborate for the shame of it all. I could take each of the roles she complimented and start on how I am failing, where I am vulnerable, that I am imperfect. Easier to deny than to accept and absorb this gift. Oddly enough it is respect that I have for my friend, that graced me with the awareness that I had to return to her note, her truth, and let it sink in for real.

That one moment that took me back to the nursing days allowed me to accept that maybe I am an amazing mother. My goodness, I nursed three babies at once. A pretty amazing feat and in of itself, that should count for something! Triplet nursing should give me a lifetime membership to the awesome mom club, don't you think?

The Omer is ending, today is the last day. Today is the 49th day of the Omer, which is 7 weeks! The counting is complete and yet there is not closure. Only when the day ends will the entire period be over. We still have hours and hours now to count for the continuation of the Omer. Not sure how to check in as those hours progress, as we seamlessly transition into Shavuot, when the holiday ends or beyond.

The OOCC met its goal of creating an online omer counting community, and I am grateful for your comments and emails that signaled that you are out there sharing this counting experience. I could dwell on the few days I missed, the unanswered questions I raised, the bad mommy moments. Instead I lift up today as a day for recognizing and celebrating our accomplishments. Revelation is to come, that will illuminate the brilliance of our souls, the divine qualities that shine within and from us.

what can you celebrate? what accomplishments do you deny or downplay?
what truths, qualities, talents are in your spiritual DNA? If a divine light could illuminate your gifts, what would shine from you? Who in your live is a mirror for your light and for whom do you mirror the spark of God within? how will your Shavuot (Tues pm thru Thurs pm) include practices of light and acceptance of your reality and truth, the gifts and divine mystery in your life?

48 -simple for now

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Mon, 17 May 2010 05:15:00 +0000

Today is the 48th day of the Omer, 6 weeks and 6 days of the Omer. Only one more night of counting. then what?

Two years ago on this day I invited a 6 year old to sleep over with our 6 year old.
I drank lemonade and felt the babies respond to the sugar. I was three days away from labor.

Now, like then, I have a jumble of ideas and feelings in my head and body. Approaching this goal date feeling quite vulnerable.

Needed to count this night now, while hoping to come back tomorrow to dedicate more thought to this day.

47 - Counting/Story

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Sun, 16 May 2010 04:15:00 +0000

There's a direct connection between counting, taking account, then recounting the story. The Hebrew words for counting and story are the same; save some vowels the three letter root (SPR) is identical. L'saper is “to count”; l'seepoor is “to tell a story”. That's what this whole OOCC thing has been about, counting the days of the omer, taking account of daily developments and illustrating conclusions and connections with stories.

Another level of word play connects counting with God. Sefira, the word for counting, is also the word used in Kabbalah for divine personality attributes. Both above, in the Divine realm, and below, in the earthly human realm, these emanations enumerate ten. Layered over an image of the body, the sefirot illustrate connections between the physical and the spiritual. Multiple pathways lead between all combinations of the sefirot (plural for sefira) and the entire Alef-Bet labels the paths. In the visual image of the system, one can imagine movement on the paths - the letters forming words forming phrases that unfold into written stories, spoken too.

While I have been paying attention and hoping for some end of counting revelation, the truth is that each day of counting brings its own merit. Finding words to match feelings, stories to illustrate belief, and the ability to hit “publish” is demonstration that a light is on inside. Each day a chapter of the omer book, together they may have a unified theme or may be a collection. We're not quite at the end yet, conclusions are premature. A reminder to count each day as a whole, to be present for the glimmers and flashes.

With 2 days left of the omer, I'm taking requests for topics and hope you'll post them as a comment. ....And next week we'll see what comes, and how we'll continue making life count after this project culminates.

Today is the 47th day of the Omer, that is 6 weeks and 5 days of the Omer.

46 - Baby Bird

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 14 May 2010 21:03:00 +0000

When I was in high school there was the cool mom who gushed about her husband and told us that she married her best friend and they still have the best sex in the world for ever and ever, she was the luckiest girl on earth to have this awesome marriage, vibrant, sensual, satisfying - just look at her and her amazing best friend-husband and the smile on her face and glow on her skin. Years later I heard that she got divorced and my one example of a happy marriage was dissolved.

In college I met an older-than-me distinguished type married couple who whose relationship was based on other than sex and passion. I respected it but totally didn't get it. Didn't want that for myself, I wanted sparks with the friendship and sharing stories and housework and fantasies and love and the kind of lovemaking I imagined would go with all that.

Living in Israel for a year between college and rabbinical school, I became close with a classmate and came to admire her partnership. Finally, I thought I found a loving relationship set in sacredness. I watched them bless each other on Shabbat and wanted that for myself. I observed the calm and respectful way they related, and the deep affection they portrayed. They too have since separated.

I feel like the little chick in Are You My Mother? walking through the world looking for my true model for marriage. Just like the baby bird, I've probably walked right by it, because I don't know what it looks like. Are you my marriage? No, I am the unhappy version your parents endured for 30 years, you do not want me to be your marriage. Are you my marriage? No, you are a bag of secrets and cheating, looks sexy but lacks substance. Are you my marriage? No, you are platonic, stable but dry. Are you my marriage? No, I am a romanticized television version of one, just made up to mess with your expectations, I cannot be your marriage. Are you my marriage? No, I am a lesbian couple, Venus and Venus no Martians in here, I cannot be your marriage.

Even God of the Jewish Bible borrows marriage as the metaphor for the covenant between God and the Jewish people, and that relationship endures drama, betrayal, abandonment and exile. An exception, The Song of Songs portrays the idyllic lovers in the garden with poetry and song, affection and delight. If only we could all stay and play in paradise all day! Not even the Divine marriage is blissful when the partners step out into the real world of stress and temptation. Sure, this covenant is binding and in theory we don't have the choice to walk away. But separation through exile still persists so I still seek the model for reconciliation within the covenant, within marriage.

Baby Bird thought the tractor was his mother until it became scary and lifted him up, up, up off the ground. Oh no! I thought this was my marriage but it is not where I want to be, exclaimed this little chick many years ago.

Oh no! I want my mother, I need my moooothhhhherrrrr, baby bird screamed as the tractor was taking him far, far away. This really is not my marriage, and it is over, I realized way back when in a moment of acceptance.

Please put me down, baby bird cried as the tractor was placing him back in the nest in the tree. I followed my inner knowing through trembles and tremors and got through my divorce. And soon, baby bird was back safe at home. And the little chick flew the coop and found her way back to a new tree top nest, a sweet lake view condo paradise. And it was good, very very good.

I've heard that “remarriage is the victory of hope over experience.” (if you know the original source, please share.) This covenant idea that permeates my Jewish life is so persistant that hope returned eventually. Another chuppah, 4 children, 2 dogs later I sometimes still feel like that chick walking around asking “are you my marriage?” I wish there was a blueprint or an archetypal couple to consult.

Instead there is communication, there is commitment and there is covenant. If, like with the soul's connection to its Divine source, we cannot or do not want to disconnect, we have to keep returning, re-working, re-entering the covenant. Lord knows its not easy. Seriously, God is no expert in relationships and couldn't even write the book on marriage. So I shouldn't feel so bad that mine isn't perfect, there doesn't seem to be a perfect marriage out there. Anywhere. That's life, as they say. That's a shift in expectations, in the definition of covenant. That's a work in progress, always requiring both partners contribution, even when one of them is God.

Covenant is a commitment, an eternal every day choice to connect and accept the blessings and the responsibilities. Paradise is there for inspiration, not to set us up for failure. We count our days, we count on one another, we count on hope that the scary tractor will bring us safely back home to our nest.

After seven weeks of counting, we celebrate covenant with the gift of Torah on Shavuot. Let's consider it an anniversary, time to reconnect and re-enter the relationship however broken or complete it may be today.

Tonight will be the 46th day of the Omer, 6 weeks and 4 days of the Omer. The last Shabbat of the Omer.

45 - Coming Thru Crisis

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 14 May 2010 05:29:00 +0000

I was a late bloomer in many areas- losing teeth, starting menses, losing my virginity- yet I had an early exposure to crisis and the spiritual growth opportunity it brings, for many in a mid-life crisis. I was seventeen when my father suddenly became paralyzed and my family life turned upside-down and inside out, and I was eighteen in therapy when my now exposed family dysfunction and unhealthy ways of self-medicating my wounds brought me to recovery. The old timers called me a babe and were happy to see someone so young already in meetings. For me, the suffering had lasted long enough and my bottom was bottom enough. I got to work on the steps, on myself, and on my relationship with God.

With amazing clarity I remember sitting in Burger King (pre-Starbucks plus a place where I wouldn't see anyone who knew me) with my journal and the Big Book. My task was to reconcile the God of my childhood Hebrew school and synagogue teaching with this strange concept of a Higher Power. I wrote and wrote and wrote and thus began to figure out what I believed, how God moved in my life and how the God of my understanding is also the God of Israel and also quite a different person than the judgmental white bearded male omniscient being associate with Judaism of my childhood. Fortunate for me I simultaneously found my way into college class with a rabbinic expert on the mystical and theological. All at the same time, I found a home in 12 Step and a rich treasure of wisdom in Jewish teaching with my college mentor, Dr./Rabbi/Professor David Blumenthal.

My theological influences were radically non-traditional. After one of my first meetings, a southern baptist woman gracefully offered a few words of God instruction to my tear covered face. While standing with one foot in the car, unsure about the whole Higher Power thing, Joni taught me that God is always there riding in the passenger seat. Still, when I'm wondering where God is in my life, I step into the car and look to my side and ask God to go for a ride. Beyond my advanced beginning into Jewish studies with a Talmud class, I continued with Zohar and Advanced Zohar. Not on the usual course guide, these classes were rare gems in their existence and authenticity, shining with the deep ernest and caring brilliance of my teacher. This primary text of Jewish mystiscm, a mystery to most, was my foundational theological source. Flow of blessing, dynamic movement from polarities to balance, intentional union, the belief that we can change God with our intent and actions – these formed my soul development.

Daily work, daily meetings, step work, journal work, teshuvah and more teshuvah, establishing sacred boundaries. For years and decades now these tools shaped me and helped me survive though it has not been linear. Developing strength prepared me to face more demons, learning to trust I had major disappointments, new challenges leveled me.

Two years ago today I was counting the omer and completed my 32nd week of triplet pregnancy, of which 6 weeks and 5 days had been omer days. My Pregnancy Journal notes I “didn't sleep much last night, watched movie 27 Dresses on pay per view at 3:30 am.” All nights were on the sofa since on the bed I'd get stuck like a turtle on her back (even if I was on my side, with pillows propped everywhere). The ob/gyn estimated Baby A to weigh 4 lbs 5 ounces, Baby B at 2 lbs 8 ounces and C at 3 lbs 5 ounces. (At birth they were only 3 lb 14 oz, 3 lb and 3 lb .5 oz.) My bp was 115/75, I weighed 225 pounds and I had contractions in the taxi. A synagogue friend came over to feed me lunch; a rotating cast of righteous people visited me on bed [sic. sofa] rest daily. I was heavy, getting around my condo in a wheel chair, focused on my goal of counting through the omer, and not feeling particularly spiritual. Survival for my babies and me was the daily challenge, far from soulfully secure or even certain that God was in the picture at all. The tiny ones would arrive via 'emergency' c-section ten days later and it would be some time before I'd ever have a moment to ponder God's presence. Even now, after nearly two years of living with these miracles, sweet souls most certainly guarded by a Higher Power, I wouldn't claim to have a repaired relationship or neat theological statement.

Yes, as commented last night, crisis compels a response. Sometimes people respond with spiritual seeking and openness and deepening, and some swirl deeper into distress. At whatever age one first starts seeking, it is life changing. The flow of blessing as light pierces the darkness and a thin ray of light appears. In each cycle of returning towards oneness, our prayers and open hearts affect union and balance above, which then flows below.

Feeling the absence of God's presence doesn't mean that God isn't present; God goes underground at times. This I learned from studying the Dark Night of the Soul, especially Spiritual Director and author Gerry May's amazing take on it. Even when I forget what I know to be true because I'm at that 7th Level of Tired or when everything feels unfair or when people die, just because I don't feel that special spiritual bliss doesn't mean that the God of my understanding was just a dream. Physical, emotional, financial stress can all place paralyzing pressure on the spinal cord of the soul. What feels like permanent paralysis is a feeling, a nerve reaction, that on the spiritual level cannot impact the integrity of Godliness. Souls have unique and impenetrable characteristics, the collective Source of souls is likewise eternal.

A spiritual program is a full time job. Lessons abound in the 12 Steps, in traditional and mystical texts and teachings, in breath, in yoga, in spiritual writings, in friendship, in love, in children.

Tonight is the 45th night of the Omer, that is 6 weeks and 3 days of the Omer.

Practice: Put your feet up. Lay on the floor with your feet up the wall. Try placing a folded blanket under your hips so they are raised slightly. This posture involves turning yourself upside-down. Rather than disrupting your life, it is a restorative pose, resting your legs and feet and also allowing your upper body and abdomen to relax into the floor. 5 minutes minimum.

44 - thirties, forties.

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Thu, 13 May 2010 06:08:00 +0000

Forced to face the denial that I'm no longer thirty-six, counting the late 30s felt very personal to me; my writing froze. Now in the forties I feel I've aged prematurely. Didn't realize when I started this counting challenge forty-four nights ago that it would bring on a mini mid-life crisis. Are you with me here? We'll be forty-nine next week!

A facebook friend posted that half birthdays aren't as exciting as the real thing and mentioned this as she turned 24 ½. Wouldn't plenty of people be so excited to have another six months of being twenty-four, or at least the care-free young body state that (usually) goes with it? With deeper thought, I realize that my life now is fuller, happier, and wiser. The wear and tear on my body is real, yet the wider lens on life, more authentic soul situation and large love quotient are a somewhat fair trade.

In youth and health the body willingly accompanies us as we do our thing. As we move on in age and stage, physical awareness creeps into every activity as creakiness, injuries and illness increase, stretch marks and frown lines appear. On one hand I'm a mom to young children, trying to adapt when a sitter cancels last minute and my carefully choreographed day becomes “take your triplets to work today” day. On the other hand, I relate to my newly forty friend whose gift to herself is botox between the brows. I have my own self improvement plans for my entree into the forties.

In the realm of omer counting, the increasing numbers stop abruptly. Beyond 49 there is no counting, no Molly Shannon cheer, reprised last week on SNL with Betty White, “I'm fifty, fifty [kick], fifty! [kick, kick]. Instead we get a greater reason to party, the gift of Torah, ageless teaching, the foundation of Jewish wisdom.

Though it sounds swell, receiving a gift is not necessarily simple. Just because it is offered doesn't mean that the recipient is ready to accept the gift. When someone gives you a compliment, do you brush it off with a quick thank you before letting it penetrate your heart. Can you accept an offer of assistance and open your door to help?

In community, we are here for each other in times of need. Could be easier to offer a meal to a grieving family than accepting help with childcare when someone in the family is in the hospital. Might be easier to entertain for Shabbat than entertain the idea that you need strangers to help fold laundry, bring food to you bedside, shop for diapers, etc... Accepting a gift, accepting an apology, accepting assistance, accepting wisdom – all require an accessible heart connection. Getting there takes work, takes preparation – thus the omer counting. With Torah given after forty-nine days, how to readily appreciate the teaching that may guide you to a more meaningful, ethical, connected, spiritual life.

Here Rav Yoga provides tools for opening body, mind and soul to receiving gifts. Standing at Sinai takes a new turn with attention to the physical posture of standing, of standing strong, of standing strong and listening for the still small voice within the stillness.

This Shabbat at Netivot/Pathways Saturdays we will do the physical and spiritual preparation for Shavuot. On Erev Shavuot, families will welcome the holiday with Rav Yoga Yeladim at the Tikkun Lil Shavuot. In the next few days, I will share yoga postures for preparation, for opening, for feeling young again.

Today is the 44th day of the Omer, that is 6 weeks and 2 days of the omer.

37, 38, ...

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 07 May 2010 19:49:00 +0000

still counting, tonight after Shabbat begins will be the day after 38...
ten days till Shavuot

hoping to post an OOCC essay today, but just in case that's the count!

shabbat shalom!

36 - Types of Tired

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Wed, 05 May 2010 05:22:00 +0000

I kind of became a fan of rock star Bret Michaels from his personality on Celebrity Apprentice, not from his music, couldn't name a Poison song nor identify his sound. I was so sad to hear about his sudden major brain hemorrhage and would feel a loss if he doesn't survive. Just today the a press conference on his condition says that miraculously he is walking and talking again, and expected to fully recover. I hope that he continues bringing his positive message to the world. Really seems like such a good person, and a loving father. Maybe he wins Celebrity Apprentice? And maybe I'd like his music too.

Bret comes across as a good guy and a fun guy, who just wants to help. In one particular challenge he gave great unheeded advice to an upcoming country star. Michaels' admonished the guy not to talk about how tired he is, and that's exactly what this dope did in his televised interview with People magazine. The reporter later commented to the execs that he seemed tired, and Bret's words rang true: no one wants to hear how tired you are. That's part of the job, being on the road, up late, working hard, and it is not the message you should choose to send out to the world. Stick with: I love the music, I'm so happy to be doing this, the fans are great, this performance/album/concert/interview is the best thing in the world and I'm just honored and blessed to be here.

The message is clear: assume that tiredness is a fact of life and choose your message carefully. When someone asks “how are you?” you can start with the first thing that comes to mind (“tired”) or the first thing you want them to know. There is a distinction and we get to make that choice.

Judaism is full of choices; we get to choose from seven levels of tzedakah, seven different types of charitable giving. Maimonides (widely known as Rambam) lists them from the least to most honorable, starting with #1 giving begrudgingly. Read up more on this and you'll notice the seven options do not include refraining from giving tzedakah altogether. There is no choice to refuse giving some of our money to others who need it more. Tzedakah is something we do, maybe (but hopefully not) begrudgingly, ideally honorably, often, and with altruistic desire to help.

Tiredness too is not a choice, it is part and parcel of life. We expend energy and become worn down, we take in energy and perk up again. The efficiency of the cycle depends on quantity and quality of this energy exchange. Pour in nutritious food into a healthy body, use the energy for a run by the lake, business meeting and grocery shopping. Drain every ounce of energy while a loved one is sick, there's no magic food or amount of sleep to feel replenished. Along Rambam's lines of seven different variations, I'm conceptualizing seven types of tired.

Everyone is somewhere on the scale of seven types of tired, as everyone is expected to be somewhere on the ladder of tzedakah. In each case, let us learn from glam rock star and amazing survivor Bret Michaels, no one wants to hear about it. “I'm just so tired” comes off as “I wish I weren't here talking to you, I'm not listening so you're just wasting your time.” Like teacher said, “if you have nothing good to say, don't say it.” While going through my father's important papers I found a yellow legal envelope with important looking notes all over it. In large letters it read “KYMS”. When asked my dad told me that he always jots down these letters on the top of a page for important meetings. It's his reminder to keep his cool and stay on message: “KYMS”= “Keep Your Mouth Shut!” Just in case you don't know me well, know that I'm big on talking and processing and that this lesson is not meant to be insensitive, just instructive about choosing our words and our messages.

To understand the types of tired, know that the ecology of energy exchange requires intake and output. Energy operates on four levels: body (physical), brain (mental), emotional, and spiritual. As the levels of output increase we become drained and cannot refuel fast enough.

The Seven Types of Tired, by Heather Altman (Rabbi, RYT, Morah Derekh, certified in Surgical Preparation, mother of 4 including toddler triplets) progresses from Plain Tired To Total Exhaustion:
1.Plain tired – you maybe should have slept an hour longer, you didn't get a long lunch at work, you're eating sugar. You can still function pretty well, make clear choices, take care of yourself and others.
2.Good tired – you stayed up all night dancing or making love, you had a long, strong workout or physical challenge (gardening, extreme adventure). Your body is exhausted but you are invigorated, the adrenaline and cortisol make up for physical fatigue. (Body)
3.Brain tired – you've been working or studying long hours, engaged in intellectual thought, running numbers, thinking through complex equations or processes (Brain/Mental). You are burnt out mentally but your body is as strong as ever.
4.Body drained – you have had days of ongoing physical labor, long hours, maybe double shifts. You do school by day/work by night or work by day/school at night/family all the time. Or you are running around all day after young children, or up at night caring for them. You are at the limits of your endurance and also grappling with grasping all that you need to do and how to organize it in your mind. You need a break, and hopefully can at least get a Shabbat nap. (Body + Brain)
5.Emotionally drained – your heart is strained. You are in a major transition, dealing with personal issues. Emotional drain comes from both bad and good situations. Moving into a bigger home is good, but the change is emotionally draining. Same with planning a wedding or other celebration. Emotional drain inevitably takes its toll on brain functioning. This too shall pass. (Mind/Brain + Emotion)
6.Insomniac – you can't sleep because your body is chemically prepared for flight or fight, mind is running non-stop, heart is heavy with worry about money or job security or relationship issues. You really need resources for help. (Body + Brain + Emotional)
7.Total exhaustion – Everything else and your spiritual reserves are low, trust is broken, faith is tested. You have sick child in the hospital, so you get no sleep plus mental exhaustion and spiritual depletion. You experienced a personal or global trauma and it knocked you out on all levels. Your body chemistry needs a re-set and the exhaustion splits off your soul connection. Be very careful, seek and accept offers of assistance, be gentle with yourself and patient with your soul. (Body + Brain +Emotions + Soul)

On Celebrity Apprentice, Bret Michaels is trying to avoid The Donald's “you're fired” and his winning advice thus far is never say “I'm tired”. With his Type-1 diabetes, recent emergency appendectomy and subsequent massive brain bleed, his body was almost at its end, so today's news about his status is a miracle. I am certain that his way of meeting the world with positivity contributed greatly to his survival. I have a feeling he will have something to say about his soul's desire to live and his approach to greeting and meeting life. Inspired by an 80s rock star, I hold out hope for refu'ah shleima, a complete healing of soul and of body, for Bret Michaels and for you and your type of tired.

Today is the 36th day of the omer, 5 weeks and 1 day.

practice:
What level of tired are you today? what can you do to restore the ecology of your energy exchange? back to basics - focus on your breath, your relaxation response, nurturing your relationships, support system and soul connections.

35 - Big Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Tue, 04 May 2010 04:27:00 +0000

Feel like a birthday girl today wearing my mothers' day gift to myself from last year, because it just arrived today. Took me a while to go ahead and order it, part procrastination part indecision. My OOCC practice helped me become ready to order my cute mommy jewelry. As the transition from full time parenting to full time professional work procedes with the weeks of the omer I can wear their names around my neck rather than their bodies wrapped around mine.

35 is a big birthday, this omer day gives me occasion to catch up on the theme for an omer essay day incomplete -28. 28 is my birthday number, the day of the month on which I was born. A good number, and the age that I pretend I'll keep repeating. I've always felt that numbers have personalities and colors that go with them. Two and eight together have such a nice feel, adding up to ten feels quite whole. And the corresponding color is bright, with a sunshine yellow quality.

Grown ups only call ourselves birthday boy or girl when we're not feeling old. When the days of annual parties are over, birthday celebrations – and sentiments – change. For my last birthday I used the excuse to treat my friends to manis and pedis, preceded by sushi. My excitement went into gifts of amazing chocolate bars I gave them as goody bags. My present was getting to spend the night with them, introducing special people to one another, and enjoying quiet, quality time. That winter night I counted; the six women present produced nineteen children total. Not accustomed to quiet time, we all reveled in the massaging chairs, and the pampering too.

Now I am planning another birthday party, one with bubbles and balls and bagels and lots of noise. In June my little ladies will turn two. Still they don't even understand the meaning of birthday and they're too young to get all excited with anticipation. We get to celebrate them and their life and recall when they were born and all the excitement and cuteness they bring. Last year at their first birthday party I had big fun celebrating a year of survival. I anticipate this year feeling a similar sense of accomplishment. As their second birthday approaches, the girls know how to have fun. They smile so much and giggle with delight. They dance and scream and hold hands and give hugs. My dad is working on teaching them to say “one, two”.

For everyone 49 and under, there's a day of the Omer that corresponds with our age. I wonder what the spiritual message is in that. Perhaps the counting takes us through the first forty-nine of our lives and indicates that fifty is a year of revelation. After fifty the challenge is just remembering the early years. Ironially it seems that long term memory improves with age, when we see the timeline of our life and appreciate each day, each birth, each birthday even more.

Received some tragic news yesterday and I can't help but think of those who died young and never made it to that year. When their birth dates arrive how can we celebrate for them? In their honor? My FP sisters (maybe I'll explain later) write email birthday blessings that say “I'm so glad you were born.” That's what I wanted to say to my friends on my birthday and theirs, maybe that's what we say when remembering too. Maybe the count to 49 points us to value these early (and mid) years. I look at my children and in each moment feel joy in their lives; everyone should have someone in their life or memory who loves us in that parent-child way. Knowing that we are loved as gifts of joy counts for so much.

Today we count 35 days of the omer, which is 5 weeks of the Omer.

Practice: What does your 35th birthday mean to you? Consider life before 35 and life after. How do you celebrate your life?

34 No Knot Days (for Sara)

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Mon, 03 May 2010 07:01:00 +0000

With a definite bias towards partnering people up in marriage, it is a bit strange that Judaism has black out days for weddings. Yep, we do. Basically the first thirty-three days of the Omer are no knot days, though they're not the only ones throughout the year. Biblically these days were the path from exodus from Egypt to revelation at Mt. Sinai, a trying trek marked by uncertainty and fear. Later history layered on mourning for 24,000 Torah students of Rabbi Akiva and another host of historical trauma. The 33rd day marked a change for the better and became an Israeli bonfire BBQ celebration called Lag B'Omer (the alpha-numerics for 33 is lamed (L=30) gimel(G=3), abbreviated as “Lag”). With exceptions, many Jewish communities permit weddings only on and after Lag B'Omer. A lenient ruling completes the mourning observances after Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) prior to Lag B'Omer; still, some restrict the entire seven weeks.

The funeral procession always stops for a simcha. We never ignore joyous occasions to sit in our sorrow. When a simcha has been scheduled and a tragedy happens we don't delay the wedding, though we modify the form of celebration. From the start though, wedding planning considers cyclical times of mourning and we prevent schedule conflicts. The joy should be as pure as possible.

Weddings are supposed to be the happiest day of our lives. That's what the bridal business sells us. The emotions are much more complex and logistically it is not a carefree day. Having officiated at many weddings I know that sadness often makes its appearance at some point on the wedding day. Lots of brides and grooms stand under the chuppah without the parents and grandparents they always imagined would be there. So that sadness doesn't overwhelm, we separate the calendar date away from mourning periods and we create a space outside of the chuppah to remember the love and hopes and dreams of the parents who died before their child's wedding day. Pre-wedding rituals can be designed to draw up the love and soul connection so all the blessings of love and beautiful memories brighten the day.

There's an element of loss in every new beginning so that's not enough excuse to inhibit weddings; more than the mourning, the emotional quality of omer is instability. Wandering in the wilderness, looking backwards at the familiar landscape of suffering, dealing with major trust issues – these are not appropriate activities for entering a covenant. The midrash tells that God had to hold the mountain over our ancestors' heads until they agreed to accept the Torah. Until they got to Sinai they were not ready to create that covenant with God. Couples create a loving covenant of marriage under the chuppah, and the choice to enter must be clear. This is a moment of arrival, of acceptance and of faith which can only occur after revelation. The bright light of blessing illuminates clarity, certainty and commitment – necessary companions to love.

The Baal Shem Tov said:

From every human being there rises a light that reaches straight to heaven. And when two souls that are destined to be together find each other, their streams of light flow together, and a single brighter light goes forth from their united being.

The seven weeks of the omer are a spiritual practice of preparation, a powerful tool towards transformation. At the end, each individual alone stands at Sinai to be initiated into the community of Israel, to be blessed by the stream of divine light. Open to receiving instruction and direction and illumination from the Source of all blessing, we pray that our choices create closeness in relationship with our beloved, with our families, with our friends. Seven cycles of seven, the fullness of full, wholeness of the whole, light joining light. Be'sha'ah tova, this is the hour of goodness!

Today is the 34th day of the Omer, that is 4 weeks and 6 days. Let the wedding season begin - mazal tov!

33 -Sex Change Goddess

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Sun, 02 May 2010 06:06:00 +0000

SEX
In the early stages of a relationship we would never imagine that our passionate sex life will one day be barely there. Our passion is so strong, our sex life is so good, our intimacy is a central part of our identity as a couple in love. Despite our deep seated belief that we will be different than those who trade in the bonfire for a pilot light, it is a fact of later stage love (and aging/changing bodies) that frequency of sex fades.

When I told a close friend that I was going to write a book, he assumed if it would be a book of erotica. Shocking, hopefully, for most readers, but when I told another close personal confidant about this supposition I got this matter-of-fact reaction: “of course, that's what anyone who knows you would say.” Sex is a favorite topic of mine, and I enjoy sharing and hearing details. For a while, I was the one who fed juicy stories to my friends. That well dried up when I got married. As fitting the sanctity of marriage, I set boundaries on blabbing. Never appropriate for the professional persona, I discern between wanton voyeurism and all important education, honesty and openness. Sexuality is human, a universal life theme. I strongly maintain that sex is sacred, even when it is sad or bad or kinky or gay or short or solo. [Sex is not sacred when it is scary, coerced and abusive.]

CHANGE
The truth is that kids change everything. It is a platitude, I know, but it is the truth. In my case, my marriage never existed without kids. I dated a daddy-daughter combo; immediately we were a not-yet family unit. Once we were all living together we discovered her hidden talent – sex radar. The second that we started kissing, she would cry out from her room awake. Sex-dar! - not for sale. The only ever blessing of the every other weekend custody arrangement was those early relationship weekends in bed without the sex alarm sounding. Life re-arranged, now in my perfect world all of our children would always be under our roof, ready to climb into bed for morning tickles.

Clearly with children it is not only how our bodies change, though that is a key point. My pregnancy was far from typical if there is such a thing. Speaking generally, pregnancy changes every cell of the body. Nothing is spared. Hormones are powerful drugs and growing another being inside your body is radical (not to mention growing three babies at once!). Delivery brings other changes, both typers -vaginal and cesarean. I wouldn't doubt if adoptive mothers and mothers by surrogacy have their own experience of physical changes when they become mothers. Mothering, all parenting, is an extreme sport.

When I say everything changes, I mean everything. Nerve ending rearrange themselves, breasts change colors and sizes, muscles tighten that are supposed to loosen and loosen that are supposed to tighten. Taste buds transform, nourishment triggers vomiting, vegetarians crave meat. Bodies with perpetually cold fingers, nose and toes can suddenly heat an entire house. Emotions become exagerated, sensitivities super-size.

I didn't always recognize myself. I don't recognize myself in women who say they went through pregnancy with no changes at all in lifestyle, then gave away their maternity jeans the day after delivery, God bless them. One day, or night, or afternoon- months after giving birth, I attempted to have sex. That's when I realized that my clitoris had moved. Yes, my anatomy was rearranged! Quite disturbing to discover my body had become completely alien. Moments like those, its so nice to be so sleep deprived with three babies needing your boobs for sustenance. Nature's way of compensating. No time or energy to ponder the freak show that is me in the moment.

GODDESS*
Yet another part of the owner's manual for women's body that they didn't give to us in middle school sex ed. Think of the bump you get from walking into a wall and imagine the swelling you'd have if a head burst through your groin. Ah, yes, the birth canal, that is not a separate accessory loaned to you for the event, it is your very own one and only vagina. Stretched beyond her limit, engorged with blood flow, she swells beyond recognition to bring forth new life.

I saw a Goddess in my first sight of a woman naked and swollen after child birth. A sight before unseen by me, this was surely the body of God. Yes, creation is an act of godliness and childbirth is an act of Goddessness. The Goddess body surely but slowly (days, months, years) morphs back into a semblance of the pre-mother woman, with the woman always retaining the primordial woman Goddessness. “God was in this place, and I did not know.” Every physical sensation is a source for spiritual awareness, every body breathes soul, every moment we hold the holy in our hands. The rawness of it, also found in sex, and the sweetness of it, also found in sensuality, are not exclusive to this experience.

The point is that passion is divine. Physical fire fuels the entry level of soul work. The intense heat is a furnace of spiritual refinement. It was hot in that desert while we walked and sweated to the oldies. Hard work building and shlepping the tabernacle. The sun so hot it baked matzoh on our backs as we fled slavery for the promise of freedom, with each step getting closer to the light of revelation. Accessing your passion, your heat, your light, your fire is your own dance of freedom. Feel the fire that fuels you, let yourself get sticky and sweaty from the heat, enjoy the fun all for the sake of finding the Goddess within.

Today is the 33rd day of the Omer, that is 4 weeks and 5 days. Today is the celebration of Lag B'Omer, marked by bonfires and wild celebration. Fire and freedom, divine purpose and passion .

Practice:
-Get those inner fires burning. Dance until you drip from sweat – alone in your home, with a friend, lover or child. Or take your dancing out to a community Lag B'Omer celebration. An alternate physical practice is a yoga practice focusing on the lower abs.

Consider a burning ritual. If there were a safe bonfire for you, what items would you offer up? You can set your intention for letting go and moving towards freedom (burn that letter from your ex) or for celebrating your passionate dreams (burn a letter to yourself or to God that describes the person you aspire to be, your big dreams. Write as if, i.e. “I am happy, joyous and free”, “I am successful in business and in love with my wife.”)

*Please note that my use of Goddess here illuminates the female face of God and does not mean that I believe in anything but One Unified God. Questions welcome as always.

32 - Laughter

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 20:12:00 +0000

I had the funniest conversation yesterday in which I was trying to help a mom figure out what day her child was born. There's not a trick here, like her child was adopted from an orphanage that didn't keep records. This mom gave birth to her little girl. Still, a woman in childbirth isn't so focused on knowing the actual time. She, and anyone else in right mind, only cares about getting that baby out of her body alive into the world. And I don't know the details of this particular birth story except that she was born at the end of the day close to sunset.

The Jewish calendar changes days at nightfall. That's why Shabbat and holidays begin one evening and continue through to the next: “there was evening then where was morning, Day One”. It's right there in Genesis with the creation of the world, there's no playing with it. A questionable birth day may occur when a baby is born right around sunset, so the minute of the hour is an important determining detail. And then we must clarity how to define the moment of birth. In the hospital they probably check the clock once the doctor/nurse/midwife is holding the baby in her arms, maybe after making sure the little one doesn't need any emergency care. That's not the Jewish way.

The classic go-to case for understanding this differentiates when the child becomes its own separate living being apart from the mother's body. With my toddler sticking her head under my shirt to calm herself these days, I wonder if I will ever be able to think of my children separate from my body. Aside from my mommy psychology, there is no question about when they were lifted out of my body. In the case of a c-section, the whole baby comes out at once. In my case, baby followed a minute later by another baby, and a minute later by another baby. If those minutes are split around 12 pm, the children would have different birthdays. If they were split around sunset, they might have different Jewish birth dates. In my case, there was no question, if there was a window in the Operating Room we would see was broad daylight.

Lehavdil, to make a separation in topics, the Jewish moment of birth is actually determined by a scenario where the woman's life is at imminent risk. To live we try to ignore the fragility of life, yet we all know the truth that life is fragile and that babies are not independent human beings in the womb. And more, survival is never certain. Judaism teaches us best how to save lives and protect life. The highest mitzvah is to save a life, and to do so we must be able to define life (and death too). We need guidance on how to decide who takes precedence in this horrific life and death situation. In ancient times our sages saw much more of this; thankfully we can now reasonably expect to live through childbirth and go home with our babies. According to Jewish belief, until the child is born, if only one could survive, the woman's life is the one. I know this is so hard to ponder, and nothing you want to ever consider. Some of you know this all too well, having experienced miscarriages, stillbirths, and near-fatal child birth. I hold you in my heart and pray for continued comfort for your unthinkable losses.

The moment of birth according to Jewish law is when the head comes out, when the baby is mostly and nearly out of the womb, ready to take her first breath. This can be minutes or more before it gets written for the birth certificate. The moment of birth is different from when the moment a woman becomes a mom, or when a man becomes a father. That life changing instant could have been when the woman gave birth to her first child, and several babies later and the actual minute doesn't matter to her. A woman may become a mother through adoption or surrogacy, or when she becomes married to someone with children. Same for men.

So we were laughing, because it certainly seems like time of birth is a detail of your child's life that you wouldn't forget. But would you even know it in the first place unless someone shouted it out or wrote it down for you? Or both? The thing is that Jewish teaching is quite instructive here. During labor, while anticipating the birth, the experience is so deep and intense that we replay it from our own perspective, see it with our own lens. Adoption stories too are the parent's story until the child joins the family. Only, and not until the baby takes that first breath do we record and retell her life story. (Of course adopted children's stories also begin with their first breath.) And as all parents know, from that point on its all about baby and the laughter she creates.

Mothers' Day is approaching and I think about all the laughter and smiles and joy I have been blessed with as a mom from my four children. From the moment I became an s-mom, to the moment I became a bio mom, to this moment of reflection, the laughter is possibly my most special and treasured gift. I laugh at poop on the walls, I laugh when I hear their first real laughter, I laugh when I see them dress up, when I see their mischief. Laughter is a great gift and certainly the sound of godliness.

Tonight at sunset will begin the 32nd night of the Omer. That is 4 weeks and 4 days of the Omer. Shabbat Shalom.

Practice: Let yourself laugh. Find a way to provoke laughter with memories, childlike silliness or inspiration from the world of comedy.

On the horizon: Saturday night and Sunday is Lag B'Omer, a special day celebrated in Israel with bonfires. Look for community celebrations in your area!

31 - Just Ask

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Fri, 30 Apr 2010 04:53:00 +0000

Not only did I bring a fantastic organic chocolate bar as a preemptive thank you, I arranged for someone to get a new monitor and mouse for her sucky synagogue workstation after I borrowed her computer at lunch hour. Long story, but I needed to use a program that is sadly not supported by my shiny new iMac. Her computer was painful. The monitor was dull and angled down as if it was hanging its head in shame. The mouse was sticky and attached with a cord that was pretty tightly thread through a gap in the workstation. My edits could have been completed in half the time with a fully functioning mouse and an easy to see screen. I can't imagine how it muddles up her productivity not to mention her sanity and why an employer would have her suffer so. When asked, she told me that she is also unhappy with it, and commented that she never thought to ask for a change. On my way out, I told one of the administrators about this situation. Instead of giving backlash, the response was an easy “sure, I'll take care of it, have her call me.” The budget was in place, and the only action needed was an ask. What a rush I felt.

For the second time in one week I referred to the book title Ask for It, and the statistic I learned that for every one time a woman asks for something (a raise, a benefit, a coffee, a day off, etc.) a man asks four times. And with all the even modest raises and gives multiplied by four and extended over a career, the inequity between a man and woman is in the millions of dollars. Seriously. A mid-level woman can lose millions of dollars to her male colleague who quickly surpasses her in position and salary just because they (have the confidence to..., are raised to...,think to..., don't hesitate to...) ask.

Which leads to the title of the next book by the same authors, Linda Babcock and Sara Laschever, Women Don't Ask. Why don't women ask? They don't know they can, they don't think they will get it, the thought of asking is frightening or paralyzing.

Years of feminist reading and thought, college classes and even a concentration in Jewish Women's Studies in Rabbinical school, and I never learned about this until at a conference for female rabbis last November. It was then that the puzzle of my career started piecing itself together. I remembered being so angry that my male colleague suddenly had a discretionary fund, and I, his equal, had none. Not once did I think that he just asked for it, and I didn't ask– not even after his showed up in the synagogue bulletin. I felt that I deserved it and that the higher-ups should have just recognized it and made it happen for me, too; and in my mind the colleague was at fault too. And now, I'm thinking about how it adversely affected the relationship with my colleague when I should mourn a long line of lost funds and advancement opportunities. Both issues are such a shame, shanda, it would have been such a different experience. My line of thinking is proven in research to be exactly in line with the majority of women in the workplace, maybe at home too. The reasons women think this way and act this way are an interesting psychological, sociological, cultural, societal complexity. The solution is simple, a perspective shift and summoning the stamina to start asking, four times more often and for much more than we'd be inclined to ask. This lesson is invaluable.

For lots of girls, asking feels selfish. The expectation is that we give, that we take care of others, not for financial earnings, just for the emotional closeness of the relationship, downplaying the real world value of our talents.

There's a lot to say about this false sense of generosity. We don't build ourselves up by counting ways in which we sacrificed ourselves to help others. Life isn't a martyr competition, that's not the point. “Nice girls don’t ask, but smart women do," Lois Frankel writes, "Ask for It provides the tangible tools and tips you need to get your fair share of the raises, promotions, and perks you’ve earned–and deserve.” Though we may be extreme helpers in a self-negating way, it is not pure as giving from a position of fullness. Financial compensation and benefits are earned in the exchange of energy; they add to our fullness with recognition of our professional gifts. Earnings are not a random reward, especially when packages awarded are determined based on our requests. The health of both the helper and helpee benefit from giving from fullness.

Generosity is a state of heart, to give with an open heart we have to be open to readily receive. It's a way of being, like breathing. The divine breath of life is given, inhale, we hold it, send it out with faith, watch it there, breath it in fully once again. To be truly generous, we must be generous with ourselves in expecting to breath in only the fullest recognition and compensation for our work. Only then can we send it out in service.

Today is the 31st day of the Omer, 4 weeks and 3 days of the Omer.

To do: check out the Ask For It and Women Don't Ask websites. What are you asking for? What could you ask for? Why not? What asking opportunities have passed by? What asking opportunities will you grab to fuel your generosity?

30 - Naming Names

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 06:58:00 +0000

What stressed them out was a soulful exercise for me. How I named three children all at once was a subject of fascination to many people. Without knowing the genders of each of the trio, those who struggled to decide on one girl name and one boy name couldn't fathom how we could figure out how to settle on names for the possible gender combinations: 2 boys, 1 girl; 1 girl, 2 boys; 3 boys; 3 girls; first names, middle names. People were so curious about my techniques.

I am an expert in naming babies. As a rabbi I have the honor of helping others select names for their children. Even before I ever became a parent I named many children. And since I've given birth to three children I have named many more. Sometimes I am consulted in advance; usually I enter the process in preparation for a baby naming ceremony. Rarely do the parents come to me with a Hebrew name for their child. They turn to me for methods and suggestions.

People go online and find names that are supposedly Hebrew with no actual linguistic connection to Hebrew. People find names in books that would make Israeli's laugh. There are Biblical names, modern Hebrew names, and Yiddish names. There are traditions, some more influential than others, and guidelines that vary from community to community.

Most ubiquitous is the Ashkenazic custom of naming a child in memory of a loved one lost. It's always helpful when the parents know the relative's Hebrew name. Most times, they have to do some research. With Yiddish dialects, nicknames, distant memories and no documents to confirm, finding out an actual Hebrew name can be challenging. Knowing the names is also quite crucial for the ketubah, wedding contract, for an aliyah to the Torah, for a Jewish divorce document (Get), for a grave stone.

Any and all of these written sources can be used to find Hebrew names to keep in the family. Still, it is rare that a baby receive the same exact Hebrew name as her deceased relative. We may use the Hebrew basis of a Yiddish name, the feminine of a man's name, or the masculine of a woman's name. A popular technique is using the same first letter, so Yisroel becomes Yaniv, Rachel becomes Ronit, Elizabeth becomes Elisheva. Another method I like is finding another name with the same meaning as the relative's name; this is especially helpful when the Hebrew name is totally untraceable and we use the English name to translate into a Hebrew form.

Selecting a name is a significant task, one that will be with our children forever and ever, and be in our family l'dor vador, from one generation to another. Announcing the name and bestowing it upon the child is a powerful ritual. Both are huge honors for me, explaining why I became an expert in this ritual area?

The Lion King captured it perfectly when daddy whispered baby cub's name to him, then Lion King Mufasa held up baby Simba, the future Lion King for all the kingdom to see. That is the personal and public significance of the Brit/Covenant ceremony, both for boys in Brit Milah and for girls in Brit Bat. Simba was welcomed into the Circle of Life, and Jewish babies are welcomed into the the Covenant of Israel, that holds sacred the Tree of Life, Torah teaching.

Brit ceremonies are one of my favorites; I'm excited for my second one of the season this Sunday! (Since naming ceremonies for girls aren't commanded to be on the eighth day like a Brit Milah for a boy, parents often delay the Brit Bat until a convenient time. And voila, I usually have summer Sundays booked fun with Brit Bat ceremonies!)

I have a knack for naming. As always, I aim to help people be true to themselves. Its a matter of style. We name our children the same way we present ourselves with clothing, hair, makeup and accessories. All an expression of our true selves, we strive to match each new soul with the name that best represents her shechinah self. With all the careful consideration in selecting a child's name, the ritual must match the intention in intensity. In this sacred naming of a baby, child, or even an adult Jew-By-Choice, we welcome a new soul into our family, community, covenant and world with blessing, great pride and joy. The ceremoniousness of the ceremony is fitting to the precious purpose.

Today is day 30 of the Omer, which is 4 weeks and 2 days of the Omer.

For consideration: what are your names? English, Hebrew. First, middle, last, daughter/son of.... What name do you call yourself? What name does God call you? Who and what have you named? How did you select those names and do they fit the soul of the being? If you were to name your self right now, how would you decide?

apologies: I missed a few nights! I am sorry that I couldn't keep up my writing commitment this week. I hope to fill in the missing days, so look out for out-of-order numbers.

27 Bound Together

noreply@blogger.com (Rav Yoga) — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 04:23:00 +0000

From five months back:
Somehow my triplets playing together this morning evoked a reenactment of my pregnancy experience. Last night before bed they were playing with the wooden step stools that have wooden cutouts of their names. After I put the girls in their cribs I cleaned up all the letters and spelled each girl's name as I placed it in their individual step stool. In the morning each girl wiggled out of my arms even before I could place her on the changing table. Diapers heavy they scrambled to the stools next to each crib and began working like bumble bees, buzz buzz buzzing. While they occupied themselves playing I layed my tired self down on the twin bed in their room and watched. Suddenly the letters for all three names were in one big pile on the zebra rug. I felt them all jumbled, as if the girls were symbolically showing me that they are one interconnected unit. My womb recalled the feeling of holding all three bodies within, feeling them entangled in my tummy dormitory.

The Torah teaches that in the beginning the world was created with word. God decided to create this world and formed it with words. Words formed with letters. These letters, the English spelling of Hebrew names, formed my children: Hallel, Emunah and Noam. We only chose the names after they were born. I matched the names to the identity of their souls. Until they were born I had only seen and heard their bodies through ultrasound images. You may not understand this, but I had known their souls for so much longer since they appeared to me in a vision years earlier. And I talked to them and told them that I was ready for them, waiting for them, creating a safe place for them, keeping them safe, giving them everything they needed to grow into healthy babies including and most especially deep love.

The letters tossed around in this womb of a pile on the nursery floor spell three words that are in the language of prayer – both the Hebrew language and the words in Jewish liturgy. Hebrew names born of spiritual DNA. Hallel means praise, the expression of gratitude I felt when a live baby came forth from my womb. The sound of song that we had passed each of the crucial points in the formation of these triplets. Hallel-uyah! She is here, her first inhale embodying the sweet soul who was meant to join our family. Emunah means faith, the trust that we grasped while monitoring the baby who appeared much smaller than her triplet siblings, the little one who was already fighting for her share of nutrients. She was actually born the same size as her younger sister yet an irregular heartbeat would immediately confirm that she is the soul who would instruct us in faith. Amen (meaning “I believe and affirm” ) comes from the same Hebrew root as Emunah. Yes, she affirms our faith with her resilience!Noam means beauty, the kind of gorgeous pleasantness that inspires a deep breath. Finally an exhale, my exhale, my husband's exale, the our parents, siblings, friends, doctors everyone in our world finally smiling and crying and breathing because our three babies, three girls, are alive, breathing on their own, safely outside my womb.

In the last 17 months I have witnessed these tiny babies grow from a total of 9 pounds 14 ounces to a total of 65 pounds. I've spent nearly every second of their lives with them, my sweet souls. I nursed them. I pureed their organic food. I introduced nutritious eating. I nourished their growth. They are fraternal, and they each have different hair colors, different eye colors, and different builds. Their voices are different, their smiles different, their developmental milestones different. I can identify them by the touch of their skin, the feel of their fingers, their bite and the smell of their diapers. They certainly are individual souls in unique bodies. And yet, by mixing up their letters they reminded me that they are a unit. They affirmed my experience of holding them within me and guarding their lives quite literally with my life. Their souls are bound together and they only know life in the context and presence, breath and feel of the triplet unit. Today they reminded me of the blessing of being bound up together from the beginning, not only their three souls, but mine too.

Written in the deep of December 2009 © Heather Altman

Three reasons that I'm publishing previously written material today: 1) convo w/ friend reminded me that my biggest baby was 26 pounds at her last visit; today=26th day of the omer. Assuming that she has gained a pound, she now fits in with tonight's/today's number. 2)Now I watch the girls hold hands and dance in a circle together. What a sight that is, them interacting so deliberately. 3) Realized that I'm can't write fresh tonight, decided it would be better to share one of my favorite pieces, one of my first articulate essays that built some confidence for the OOCC project.

Today is the 27th day of the Omer, which is 3 weeks and 6 days.

Re-counting is a spiritual practice. Especially in challenging times, remember back to past lessons and moments of meaning.