KristyWes

Tell Your Friend Veronica

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Fri, 14 Dec 2012 04:44:00 +0000

You're looking at the world's largest menorah...I think.

According to that sign and several internet articles, this menorah, set up in Grand Army Plaza at the south-east corner of Central Park, is the world's largest.

However.

There are other sites out there stating that the menorah set up near the entrance to Prospect Park (also, confusingly, named 'Grand Army Plaza') in Brooklyn is the world's largest.

Who to believe??

Both menorahs are said to be 32-feet tall. Let's call it a tie.

This menorah weighs 4,000 pounds. That's a lot of pounds. I don't want to use the word 'fat,' but I will say this candelabra may have taken the tradition of consuming oily foods (latkes, donuts, etc.) for Hanukkah a little too far. Try a salad, why don't you.

Those lanterns at the top enclose real-deal oil lamps, which are lit each night with the aid of a cherry-picker (orange, pictured in the background).

That's one large menorah.

The Parade Passed Me By

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Wed, 12 Dec 2012 19:26:00 +0000

My commute to work on Wednesday was impeded by a parade of some sorts. It seemed to end at St. Pat's, involved a lot of people wearing white, the occasional car draped in a Mexican flag, and these whirling feather-bedecked characters. I snapped a picture, not exactly sure what I was looking at.

Where, once upon a time, I would have been forced to live with the mystery, now I instead live with Google. Which informs me that this was a parade for the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Now we all know.

But there's still something to be said for mystery...

Quitting Time

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Wed, 12 Dec 2012 04:00:00 +0000

The Helmsley Building

This is my current view, each night as I leave work.

"Leave work" - does a sweeter pairing of words exist in the English language?

Monday through Friday, me thinks not.

(On Saturday & Sunday, though, "sleep" and "in" go together rather nicely.)

Spotted: Upright Bassist

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Tue, 11 Dec 2012 04:22:00 +0000

Haul Out the Holly

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Mon, 10 Dec 2012 04:38:00 +0000

This is the weekend Christmas seemed to start - a personal kick-off that had nothing to do with a liturgical season (which actually began last Sunday) or the date on the calendar (the 25th is still weeks away).

It was the weekend of the annual Christmas concert - one of my very favorite nights of the year. A chance to gather with old friends in an even older drafty, candle-lit stone church and sing (older still) carols. The mood of the place struck that fine balance between festive and reflective. I greeted friends - some of whom had traveled far - with what felt like an honest "Merry Christmas."

* * *

The following morning was the children's pageant at church. I arrived to find kids dressed as Mary & Joseph, shepherds, angels, wise men, and even a gold lamé star (reminiscent of Maggie Simpson in her snowsuit).

Their re-telling of the old tale was adorable, even if the baby playing Jesus couldn't be counted on to cooperate and lie still for the entire pageant. And those words that Luke wrote - how many times have I heard them? Yet they still makes my heart flutter with both familiarity and awe. It was good to hear them. It was good to sing "Joy to the World," again.

* * *

Afterwards we had friends over for cookie-decorating and champagne (my roommate's tradition, which I was happy to carry out). Through the kitchen window I could see rainy sidewalks, but inside we were warm and there were plenty of sprinkles and peppermint frosting to go around.

When the party ended, I sat by the lit Christmas tree (which my roommate had dragged up four (4!) flights of stairs), listening to Frank sing his holiday standards, and thinking, "Now it is not just December; now it is Christmas."

And so it begins.

Seeing the Light(s)

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Sun, 09 Dec 2012 04:56:00 +0000

Matthew McCaslin's "Being the Light"

My destination was Spanish Harlem, but upon crossing the park and realizing:

a) I was only 10 blocks from the Jewish Museum, and
b) there were just 3 minutes until 11am (opening time), plus
c) it was Saturday (free admission), not to mention
d) that night would be the first night of Hanukkah -

- I decided it was perfect timing to re-visit the museum's menorah collection. So I detoured down to 92nd Street, let the security guard rifle through my bag, took the Sabbath elevator to the 4th floor, and spent a few minutes noting how artists across time and space (from Russia to Morocco to the Netherlands to the US) have interpreted the Hanukkah menorah (or hanukiah).

Pictured are a couple of the more...'interesting' ones, but the museum also has a wide range of more traditional lamps, made from a variety of materials (glass, brass, silver, copper, etc.), each bearing the distinct mark of the artist who birthed it, and the culture/country where it was made.

Mae Rockland Tupa's "Miss Liberty"

Afterwards, I continued my trek to Spanish Harlem, but progress was de-railed once again when I smelled a bakery too good to pass by. I left with the world's largest donut, which we could pretend I ate in honor of Hanukkah (it's traditional to eat donuts and other oily foods), but I only remembered that in retrospect.

In the moment? I just really wanted that donut.

Thankful for the occasional detour in life...

Tannenbaum

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Sat, 08 Dec 2012 04:48:00 +0000

Madison Square Park Tree

Buckyball

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Fri, 07 Dec 2012 03:41:00 +0000

That variegated orb of light is an installation piece by artist Leo Villareal, currently on view in Madison Square Park through February.

According to the piece's website:

"Relying on LED technologies driven by chance, BUCKYBALL’s light sequences will create exuberant, random compositions of varied speed, color, opacity, and scale. BUCKYBALL will trigger neurological processes within the brain, calling on our natural impulse to identify patterns and gather meaning from our external environment."

Maybe. I dunno. I just thought it was kinda pretty.

(Twenty) One For My Baby

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Thu, 06 Dec 2012 04:55:00 +0000

The 21 Club is one of those storied New York institutions for fancy people (the kind of place I'd dare not darken the door.) It's existed, in one form or another, for ninety years: from it's early life as a West Village speakeasy to it's current iteration as an exclusive midtown bar & restaurant.

According to Wikipedia, the 21 Club was at one point the epitome of cool - out-smarting the police and holding wine for Frank Sinatra (!):

"Although raided by police numerous times during Prohibition, the [owners] were never caught. As soon as a raid began, a system of levers was used to tip the shelves of the bar, sweeping the liquor bottles through a chute and into the city's sewers.

The bar also included a secret wine cellar, which was accessed through a hidden door in a brick wall which opened into the basement of the building next door (number 19). Though still used as a wine cellar today, part of the vault has been remodeled to allow a party of up to 20 guests to dine in private.

21 also stored the private wine collections of such celebrities as Presidents Gerald Ford, John F. Kennedy, and Richard Nixon; Joan Crawford; Elizabeth Taylor; Hugh Carey; Ernest Hemingway; Ivan Boesky; The Nordstrom Sisters; Frank Sinatra; Al Jolson; Gloria Vanderbilt; Sophia Loren; Mae West; Zsa Zsa Gabor; Aristotle Onassis; Gene Kelly; Gloria Swanson; Judy Garland; Sammy Davis, Jr.; and Marilyn Monroe."

Before I knew it's history, I knew the 21 Club as "the place with all the lawn jockeys," owing to the statues that line the facade, like tiny ineffectual guards. Why the jockeys? Enter, again, Wikipedia:

"In the 1930s, some of the affluent customers of the bar began to show their appreciation by presenting 21 with jockeys painted to represent the racing colors of the stables they owned. There are a total of 33 jockeys on the exterior of the building, and 2 more inside the doors."

Oh, of course. Reminds me of how I'm forever gifting my frequented establishments with decorative anchors emblazoned with the name of my yacht, Felicity II.

Just kidding.

My yacht's name is Perpetua.

No Regrets

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Wed, 05 Dec 2012 03:03:00 +0000

St. Patrick's Cathedral, with 30 Rock in the distance

When asked for a list of my proudest accomplishments in the year 2012, I would have to include this afternoon's Houdini-like escape from a company-wide (soul-sucking) two-hour meeting, and the ensuing afternoon in Central Park which I purchased with stolen freedom.

Best thing I've done all week.

The Importance of Having Game

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Tue, 04 Dec 2012 03:44:00 +0000

Today I give you the Daily December Photo:

Courtyard of the Palace Hotel

...and a Heart-Warming Christmas Story:

Walking the four blocks home from a friend's house tonight, I encountered two neighborhood youths.

"Hey, you're kinda cute," one guy shouted as we passed each other on the sidewalk, "Wanna smoke a blunt?"

"Only *kinda* cute?" I shouted over my shoulder, indignant.

Kids today.

The End

The Color Purple

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Mon, 03 Dec 2012 03:53:00 +0000

This week marks the first Sunday of Advent. The cloths on the altar and the vestments of the priests (previously green, for Ordinary Time) switch to purple, and the Advent wreath (above) is brought out, dusted off, and put to good use.

Truthfully, some of the symbolism behind these liturgical elements is lost on me. But I appreciate them for their role in marking time. Time moves forward, even as it circles back around. And the changing liturgical colors - like the autumn leaves - seem to say, "Hey - you did it! You made it through again. Welcome to a new/old season. You've arrived."

The First of December

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Sun, 02 Dec 2012 04:56:00 +0000

Tree @ Bryant Park

The start of December means the start of the December Photo Project - one picture per day of the holiday season.

Farewell, Fall

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 18:31:00 +0000

Fifth Avenue, Upper East Side

Reluctance, by Robert Frost

Out through the fields and the woods

And over the walls I have wended;

I have climbed the hills of view

And looked at the world, and descended;

I have come by the highway home,

And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,

Save those that the oak is keeping

To ravel them one by one

And let them go scraping and creeping

Out over the crusted snow,

When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,

No longer blown hither and thither;

The last lone aster is gone;

The flowers of the witch hazel wither;

The heart is still aching to seek,

But the feet question 'Whither?'

Ah, when to the heart of man

Was it ever less than a treason

To go with the drift of things,

To yield with a grace to reason,

And bow and accept the end

Of a love or a season?

That's a Wrap on Autumn

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Thu, 29 Nov 2012 20:57:00 +0000

One last look back on my most favorite of seasons...

(Most of the above pics were taken in Central Park or on the Upper West Side, with the exception of that last yellow tree, which lives on the Upper East Side.)

Songs I Hear In Duane Reade

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Mon, 19 Nov 2012 22:17:00 +0000

Episode 1: Get Lost

Occasionally I'll be shopping for something in the DR and I'll hear an awesomely bad (badly awesome?) song on the sound system. Something so awesomely bad (or badly awesome) that it needs to be shared. Ergo, this exciting new blog feature. You're so very welcome.

Recently I stopped by Duane Reade after an Improv show, looking for a late-nite snack. I've developed a Liz Lemon-like addiction to an off-brand corn chip called "Dipsy Doodles," which the bodega in my apartment building carries. Unfortunately, one of the cashiers in the bodega has taken to flirting with me, and the whole thing makes me uncomfortable. "Here she is!" he exclaims each time I approach the front counter. I'd prefer not to be recognized in such moments; I'd rather purchase my late-nite corn chips anonymously.

Anyways. I clearly can't go to the bodega anymore, so I stopped by Duane Reade. But DR doesn't carry Dipsy Doodles; they only have Fritos, which are not the same. Dipsy Doodles are a far superior product in both taste & texture.

You know what? Enough about corn chips! Let's move on.

So there I was in Duane Reade, when I heard the opening strains of this song. KABLAMMO - instantly I was ten years old again. And reminded of the time my friend Terr and I - inspired by Ms. Gibson - decided to make a music video. We put on our most bad-a** punk-rocker outfits (which, in my case, was a striped t-shirt and hot pink culottes - thanks, Mom!)

Unfortunately, it was soon discovered that neither of us had access to a video camera (plus, it was almost time for dinner) so the video never got made. But I'm pretty sure it would have been epic ('epic' is a synonym for 'ridiculous', right?)

You know what else is kind of epic? This video for "Lost in Your Eyes." Enjoy the power ballad while watching Debbie and her David Hasselhoff-esque boyfriend frolic in autumnal Central Park!

Summing Up

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Thu, 15 Nov 2012 20:59:00 +0000

In the midst of an email discussion with my Improv team about meeting up at a food truck rally, one team member mentioned he was writing while on a date at a Park Slope bar. When pressed for details about said date, he revealed that, "Eh...best of times, worst of times comes to mind."

I don't know how that tension plays out on a date, but I do know how it plays out in life. Not that I'm living in a Dickensian depiction of the French Revolution, exactly, but nevertheless - the phrase feels somewhat apt, as of late.

* * *

Beks came to midtown and met me for a workday lunch. Over bowls of Thai curry, she asked, "What's new?" and I gave her the highlights reel, the "best" of my times: some exciting performance opportunities, fun creative projects, weekend getaways, a litany of lectures I've attended recently that are still running my motor, dinners out with friends, trips to the theater, a book I read that captured my thoughts completely, long walks in a park that I'm lucky to live just two blocks away from.

But when she looked at me intently and asked, "Are you doing ok?" I had to shake my head and answer in tears. No. Underneath the busy-ness of those good things, there is hurt, there is longing that is loud; there is that frustrated feeling of being "stuck"; there is isolation, there is bruised faith, there are unanswered questions, there are tiny grievances, there are big fears.

It is the best of times and the worst of times.

* * *

It's that both that I've mentioned before; a good and a bad - existing together - in tension.

I've been thinking about it again, frequently, as I weave through midtown streets before and after work. And I've been wondering about the math of it: why this good + bad doesn't net zero, exactly. One might expect them to cancel each other out, leaving you neutral.

But no - the bad doesn't erase the good. Neither does the good necessarily temper the bad; bad is still bad. A success in one area of life can't always be a salve for a wound in a different area.

You feel them both - best and worst - together, at the same time. And you're anything but neutral.

You Metcha*

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Thu, 01 Nov 2012 18:44:00 +0000

A roof with a view

A friend came to town for the weekend, and wanted to spend some time in the Met. I could relate. Each time I visit the museum's familiar halls, I think, "Why don't I come here more often?" I should go there more often.

Saraceno's rooftop installation / self-portrait

It was a nice day, so we climbed the stairs up to the roof and drank in those park and skyline views. Amazing. I should come here more often.

Statue of Diana

Whenever I visit the museum with a friend, I demand to know if they've ever seen "Please Don't Eat the Pictures," and when the answer is (invariably) 'no,' I make them listen to my plot synopsis of this adorable & underrated Sesame Street special from 1983, in which the whole gang (Cookie Monster, Grover, Luis, all of them) get locked in the museum overnight, Big Bird meets an enchanted Egyptian prince, Oscar finds some statues that really speak to him, and everyone learns a valuable lesson about art (and friendship).

[Note: this flick has never been released on DVD (much to my chagrin) (who can I write to about that?) but you can watch it on YouTube! Start here. It will save me from having to describe all the incredibly endearing scenes to you, the next time we're at the Met together.]

Warhol exhibit / balloon man in the park

Leaving the museum, it was still nice and light enough for a walk across the park (with more 'art' yet to be seen). As we wound our way west, I promised myself, "I will come back more often."

*Oy. That was uncalled for. Apologies!

Glory Days

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Tue, 23 Oct 2012 20:48:00 +0000

My Scrabble Lady left me a voice mail at 10am one Monday morning: "Kristy, darling, I just wanted you to know that the chrysanthemums are in their glory in the Conservatory Garden. I don't know if maybe you can call in sick one day this week to go see them, but you should. All the best - bye!"

I wasn't able to call in sick, but I made a point to swing by the garden that next weekend. My Scrabble Lady was right - the mums were something to see:

Central Park's Seasonal Show

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Fri, 19 Oct 2012 19:13:00 +0000

When up in the Catskills, we ate every morning at "Bread & Breakfast," an impossibly cute train-car-turned-diner, where hunters & bikers mingled with locals & tourists and we all stuffed our faces with pancakes and homefries and coffee. In short: a little slice of heaven.

One morning, as we sat waiting for breakfast to be brought to the table, we gazed out a window across the train tracks, to a picturesque white house perched on a picturesque hill. As we watched, yellow leaves rained down, swirling and blanketing the hill as if on cue.

My friend T. remarked, "You guys - autumn is happening. It is happening right now."

* * *

Autumn is the season my heart waits for, all year long. But seasons are slippery and hard to grasp, and life never slows down exactly when you want it to. Though I lie in wait for this season, I always seem to miss it somehow.

I am the coyote and autumn is my road-runner: I see it coming in the distance, I make elaborate plans for it, but in the end? It speeds by every time, leaving a trail of leaves to let me know it passed through.

Not this year, I thought. I can't make autumn slow down, but I can make me slow down. I will slow down and notice autumn, because it is happening right now.

* * *

I spend 45+ daylight hours a week in a beige cubicle that is climate-controlled and season-less. It is hard to notice autumn happening, from inside a cubicle. So the past few weekends, I have made myself stop - stop the errands and the cleaning and the running around. I've forced myself to put down the to-do list and pick up my camera and go for a walk in the park. Because autumn is happening - it is happening right now.

And here are some of the haps:

More to come...

Escape to the Catskills

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 21:11:00 +0000

My friends J&R got married recently. They are one of those couples where you just like each person SO much individually and then you like them even MORE together. In short, they are all-around awesome. I was super excited to celebrate with them.

And also pretty excited to get the h-e-c-k out of the city and take in the autumn colors upstate. It was so lovely. Me and my city-slicker friends kept exclaiming "The air here smells so good!" and "Look at the stars! You can see stars here!"

For me, I couldn't get over the quiet. Our rental cabin (pictured below) was on a large piece of land - you could see other houses but couldn't hear noise coming from them. No neighbors practicing the violin, so salsa music coming from the street, no sirens, no rattling garbage trucks, no one inexplicably beating a metal dumpster with a baseball bat at 2a.m. (Remind me why I live in the city, again?)

The happy couple are comedians, and wanted to have a 'roast' at their wedding. As in, we were supposed to stand up in front of all wedding guests and roast the bride & groom, Comedy Central-style.

This resulted in a flurry of emails between my friends and I, in the week leading up to the wedding. What could we say, in front of the bride and groom's families? Where is that tenuous line between funny & wildly inappropriate?

We spent that Saturday afternoon sitting around our cabin's dining room table, sun shining in through picture windows, writing out jokes on index cards, vetoing questionable material and stuffing two animal pelts (that had been hanging on the wall next to that deer head) into a duffle bag to use as props. In the end, I think we struck the right chord and our roast was a success. Phew. (Never offend the people who are about to buy you dinner, that's my motto.)

The wedding took place on a farm, featuring real live animals! Ren the Golden Retriever, who would eventually wander into the reception and take a nap on the dance floor. Poppy the goat, who lived in a dog-house & tried to eat my scarf. And Giver the miniature horse, who was largely disinterested in you unless you had grass to feed him.

The ceremony took place up the hill from Poppy's hangout, under a yellowing tree, with clear views of the surrounding mountains. Someone said, "This looks like a Bob Ross painting," and they were right.

The reception was in a barn, lined with hay bales and lit by twinkle lights. I'm not going to lie: it was a little chilly in there. So we tore up the dance floor to keep warm, until the DJ called it quits. That's when things really got going, because the second act of the evening was LIVE BAND KARAOKE!

I'm a fan of regular karaoke, but live band karaoke? Shut the barn door. It was flippin' fantastic. You will be made to feel like a genuine rock-star, and you will eat. it. up.

I fulfilled two long-time dreams at once by a) performing "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" and b) performing it at a wedding (I've been threatening to sing it at people's weddings since 2000. And it happened. It finally happened!)

I also rocked a tambourine during some group numbers ("Don't Stop Believin'" and "I Want You To Want Me") and woke up the next morning with a bruised hand. The tambourine: it ain't for sissies.

It was one of those weekends that you never want to end, but alas - Sunday afternoon arrived and we headed (reluctantly) back to the city.

Goodbye foliage, goodbye quiet, goodbye Poppy the Goat. (I forgive you for trying to eat my scarf.)

Thanks, J&R for being you and for having a wedding that was SO you. Much like live band karaoke, you guys totally rock.

Coney Island Fun Run

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Wed, 10 Oct 2012 20:55:00 +0000

Tiff convinced me to sign up for the Wildlife Conservation Society's 5K Run for the Wild, and I convinced three other friends, and then my voice teacher announced she would be running, too, and suddenly - it was a party out on Coney Island!

Coney Island Aquarium

We were running for these guys - the mighty walri!*

Fact: walri are gigantic and weird-looking creatures.

Another fact: they're in danger. From the Wildlife Conservation Society's website:

"Like so many Arctic denizens, walruses are facing increasing threats to their survival as they cope with the impacts of a changing climate and increased industrialization of the Arctic. The sea ice that they have long depended on in summer for feeding and resting is rapidly disappearing.

As a result, they must forage in shallow coastal waters and haul out on land to rest, a risky adaptation. Food is in shorter supply near the coast, and walrus calves are prone to serious injury and death in the tight beach quarters, where stampedes can erupt from the merest of disturbances.

In addition, the surge in shipping traffic and natural resource extraction in the increasingly ice-free waters between Alaska and Russia poses various dangers, from oil spills to industrial noise that interferes with wildlife behavior and navigation."

Now you know. We're making life rough for the walri. Let's be kinder to them - those ugly mugs need our help!

This guy

After the 5K run, we walked around the Coney Island Aquarium and had a nice visit with their wildlife. I do love aquariums - sealife is so varied! And fascinating! And colorful! And sometimes frightening! (thinking of you, hammerhead sharks)

The sea otters were nowhere to be found (sadness), but the penguins were out & about, hamming it up for the camera. They really seemed to be eating up all the attention they were receiving. (No judgment, penguins - just making an observation.)

The run began at 8am (crikey) and by 8:45am our crew had run the course, stretched and re-hydrated. "Time for a hot dog?" asked Mr. SBG, and we had no good argument for not walking down the boardwalk to Nathan's. When in Coney Island...

Walri, kraut, sea breezes, funny friends? A good morning.

*I know the proper plural is 'walruses' but I prefer 'walri.' Just let me have it.

Update: The Coney Island Aquarium was hit by Hurricane Sandy, but seems to be doing ok.

Christopher Columbus!*

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 21:15:00 +0000

*Said Jo March, often.

The pillared statue of Christopher Columbus, which stands in the middle of his eponymous circle and dates to 1892, will be undergoing some restoration/conservation efforts later this year.

But before that happens, installation artist Tatzu Nishi gives us an up-close and personal look at Big Chris (as no one calls him) via Nishi's Discovering Columbus exhibit.

Funky pink wallpaper

Nishi has created a temporary living room, perched on scaffolding six stories up, that surrounds the 13-foot tall statue of Columbus. Visitors can now experience the statue not as a towering Distant, but as a coffee table sculpture that one could reach out and touch. (But one shouldn't. No touching!)

The living room is bright and airy, papered with that charming pink iconic print. There are comfy couches and copies of the day's Times scattered about; a bookshelf (holding real books that you can take down and read) lines one wall. A television set in the corner was tuned to a news channel when I visited.

The idea? Sit down! Stay awhile! Make yourself at home!

Per the website, "Discovering Columbus offers both a unique perspective on a historical monument and a surreal experience of the sculpture in a new context." Truth.

The man...and the artist himself!

In addition to the up-close views of Big Chris, you get some great views of the city below. Central Park stretches out to the north; midtown's bustle is visible to the south.

The exhibit is open daily, 10am-9pm. Tickets are free, but you must reserve them in advance online. Hurry! Discovering Columbus closes November 18th.

The view of Columbus Circle, Central Park & beyond

Reader Submission #2

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Tue, 25 Sep 2012 21:12:00 +0000

The fearless MadDawg recently returned from a trip to Alaska, and look what she brought me!:

A butt-shot of a Mama Bear and Baby Bear! Awwww. Precious.

Remember dear readers: when traveling around this great globe, don't waste your money on souvenir spoons*. Just bring me back a picture of an animal's butt and I'll be pleased as punch.

To view the rest of my collection, click here.

*Don't Waste Your Money on Souvenir Spoons is actually the title of my as-yet-unwritten self-help book on fiscal responsibility.

What Hinders

noreply@blogger.com (KristyWes) — Fri, 21 Sep 2012 17:09:00 +0000

When my neighbor-friend spotted me, he was finishing a run along the Hudson river and I? I was balanced precariously on some slippery rocks by the water's edge, holding a dinner roll in my hand.

"Hey! Welcome back!" he said, referencing my recent return from vacation.

"Hey! I'm back!" I said, before awkwardly stating the obvious, "I have some bread!" and continuing with a half-truth, "I'm going to throw it in the water!"

"Ok, well...cool. I'm sure the ducks will love it." (generous on his part; there were no ducks in sight)

We made plans to catch up over sushi later, and he continued on his run. I sat down on a flat rock and did what I had come to the river to do, the thing that had seemed too complicated to fully explain: the annual ritual of tashlich.

Tashlich (Hebrew for "you will throw / cast off") usually occurs on the first day of Rosh Hashanah. Technically, I was a day early in practice on that Sunday afternoon, but I'm sure the rabbis would be willing to overlook my timing error. Especially in light of the fact that I AM NOT JEWISH. And am therefore not bound to observe this ritual in any way, in the slightest.

Therein lay my hesitation in explaining to my neighbor-friend just what I was doing with a dinner roll clutched in my hand. Just what was I doing with a dinner roll clutched in my hand??

* * *

Sometimes I'll co-opt Jewish traditions or holidays (say, Passover or Hannukah) under the guise that because Jesus celebrated them, so should I. The origins of tashlich, however, are unclear: most likely it's a medieval practice; even if it dates earlier, we still have no textual evidence that Jesus ever participated in the ritual.

And I, as a non-Jew, have no real reason to participate either.

Except that I like tashlich. I just really like it.

There are many takes on tashlich, the most basic being that the bread represents your sin, and by throwing the bread into the water, you are symbolically casting off sin. Then you can observe how the water carries your sin away - much like God does.

My own take on tashlich focuses more on the new year aspect of Rosh Hashanah - a letting-go of the past. Yes, the sin, but also the hurts sustained, the discouragement, the tears. The stuff that can weigh you down if you drag it from one year to the next. And meditating on a God who can make all things new, who can really, truly wipe the slate clean, who says, "You don't have to carry all this by yourself anymore."

So thinking on all that - that's what I was doing with a dinner roll clutched in my hand.

But sometimes, it's just easier to let people think you're feeding the ducks.

* * *

"As I cast this bread upon the waters

Lift my troubles off my shoulders.

Help me to know that last year is over,

washed away like crumbs in the current.

Open my heart to blessing and gratitude

Renew my soul as the dew renews the grasses.

And we say together: Amen."

(Source)