Month: January 2008

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Eve PosenLeave a comment
Here in Los Angeles we don’t get much rain, we don’t have thunderstorms and lightening. We don’t have fall, pretty leaves changing colors, or the smell of spring very often. For the last week, it has been raining on and off. And anyone who knows me, knows that I have an obsession with rain, with storms, with weather. Part of this comes from growing up in the Midwest, where we have weather, seasons, storms. Part of it comes from my awe at the weather, at the importance of water and at the same time how damaging it can be. Part of it is from my awe and the creation of God, and the weather is just one more sign that God does exist. And, part of it is because when I was a little girl, my grammy and I used to spend hours driving in the car looking at snow covered streets, and the leaves changing and at storms coming in and out of our area.
I have so much enjoyed the rain, and by yesterday morning, I was ready for some sun. While we were on our way to teaching in our carpool, we took in the low clouds and the way they hit the mountains, we took in the eerie, God-like nature of the clouds, and then, out of nowhere, right in front of us was this beautiful rainbow. This wasn’t just a small rainbow, but one that stretched on forever, each of the colors visible and vibrant. It was like a smile shining down on me. I usually take in the beauty of nature and think of my family who are no longer with me. I have been known to stare at the stars in the sky and look for the brightest one (other than the north star of course), and imagine that my grandparents were living there. But, this summer, after my dad died, I lost that ability. Yesterday, i found my awe, I fell in love with the rain again. The rainbow eventually faded into the sky and the day went on, rainy as always.
I thought about the rainbow as I slowly made my way to school this morning, wishing to see it again, and knowing that I couldn’t be so lucky. That is, until I went to my first class and outside that window as an even bigger and brighter rainbow than yesterday. I think someone is smiling down on me. I think my covenant with God is made stronger by this, I think we are all in a good place.
Out of the rain, the storm, the floods, came a rainbow, the skies are blue, the air is clear, and life is good. May each of us find the rainbow that brings us new life!

Learning to Let Go

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In the past year I have spent much time learning to let go. Let go of past relationships, of past experiences, of my past. I have learned that I can’t live there, that in order to survive, I must hold on to the past for what it was and look towards the future for what it can be. And i have been succeeding it this for the most part. It is scary to let go, scary to loose oneself in love, in life, in relationships, and at the same time, it is thrilling, and so incredible.
Letting go is really hard, and yet, I am realizing that if I don’t let go, I can’t more forward; and I really want to move forward. So, now, I will push, I will let go, I will close my eyes and fall into the unknown. Into that space that isn’t cluttered with regrets of the past, with things that have no meaning anymore. I will let go, take the fall and hope to soar into the world.

5 months… Who am I? How will I mourn?

Eve PosenLeave a comment
5 months ago my daddy was here, well, his body was still alive at least. I look back at where I was a month, two months, three months ago, and where I am now, and I see myself in a completely new space. I am healing, or, at the very least, I am moving forward in the world, doing things to honor my father’s memory, doing things to honor my life.
I have been thinking this week about what happened 5 months ago,
5 years ago this Shabbat, my sister celebrated her Bat Mitzvah. We came together as a family, happy, healthy, energetic, loving each other. We sang together, led services and celebrate life and Judaism. This year, I am reading the Aliyah I read for her bat mitzvah for the first time since that Shabbat. I have a feeling my dad will be listening to me and beaming with pride and joy just as he did then.
5 months ago my identity changed, I became a mourner, a girl whose father was no longer there to hug her, support her, praise her, love her. I became the girl who cries in the back of the room, the girl who speaks of her father in the present tense and immediately changes it to the past.
What’s more, is that 5 months ago i began mourner, but only now do I consider myself a mourner. 5 months ago i had an expectation of what a mourner is, of what they do, and others had that same expectation of me. I shouldn’t go to movies, I shouldn’t listen to music, I shouldn’t celebrate, I shouldn’t cry in shul, I shouldn’t talk about him all the time. I was expected to mourn as the tradition prescribes, and yet, surprisingly, I didn’t find that to fit my mourning needs.
So, who am I, Eve the mourner? How will I mourn my daddy in a way that works for me? I will live my life, and dedicate my learning to him. I will cry when I miss him, and mostly, though you won’t know it, I am the girl who cries, because she wishes her dad could see all that she loves. The girl who cries because of the missed opportunities, or because she is sad that she won’t get to share the joys she is experiencing with her daddy. I am the girl who mourns openly, publicly. I am the mourner who some days wants nothing more than to speak about her daddy, share his life with others. And other days, wants nothing more than to cry in some one’s arms about the deep pain that never leaves. I am the mourner that will live life and enjoy what the world has to offer as a way of honoring her father.

A moment in time….

Eve PosenLeave a comment
Over Shabbat, one of the service leaders called our attention to the notion that when saying the shema, some have the custom of saying each word with one full breath. Taking hte time to fully devote oneself to the word, the meaning, the history, the covenant. Taking a moment in time to be lost in words of Torah, a mantra of sorts.
for me, this moment in time brings great meaning. The shema is supposed to be the last thing that a Jew says, the final words, the final affirmation of belief in God and our traditions. Most people never get the chance to have this final moment in time My papa had this chance. He took all of his strength, all of his last energy and put it into belting out the shema as his body shut down. As the morphine dripped into his system, a bit too late, he said the shema, and took his final breath.
28 days after this, I sat with my father, at his bedside as he took his final breaths. He wasn’t conscious, his strength had gone, but I sat with him, and said the Shema. I affirmed for him in me what our expression of faith is he had long ago told me that this is our expression of faith, we can’t change our destiny, we accept it and believe and trust in God. Another moment in time, each word led to the next, to that final space.
I don’t think I take enough time each day to take in the world around me, the moon, the sky, my friends, family, my smile. But, I try, each morning and evening to take a moment in time to say the Shema. It is the utterance of those 6 words that place me in a moment in time that I will forever cherish. It is these 6 words that reaffirm my belief in God, in man and in myself. I will understand it one day, I will hear the world around me, I will find God in my daily life.

Into the Ocean…. of my year

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In the last few weeks I have spent many days at the ocean. Some days and nights in Santa Monica listening to the waves, watching the birds, feeling the water skim by my feet. Watching the water move in and out, wondering about where the water has been. Today, I went with my friends T and A who have been staying with my from New York for the past week to Rancho Palos Verdes. We first went and saw a beautiful, Swedenborgian chapel with all the precious beauty that it holds. Then we continued along the coast to Donald Trump’s golf course and traveled along the public beach trail. The views were magnificent. We took some time, and took in the sights and sounds and I began to reflect on my year.
“The waves rush in and out, Eli Eli She’lo yigamer haolam, hachol v’hayam, rishrush shel hamayim… My God, I pray that these things never end, the sand and the sea, the rush of the waters… Hannah Senesh knew what she was talking about when she wrote these magnificent words. The waves rush, hurried, heavy, the slam into the rocks, rushing, exploding, they hit the end and way back and forth.

These waves, so calming and sweet in their sounds are my year. It rushed, hurried, full force, pushing wildly, unyielding, rushing- then it hit the rocks, slamming into the rocks, the trauma, the obstacles, the sadness- it reaches a violent halt, and then the calm sets in.
The tears rushed like the ocean, pouring out, flowed without end, and then, they too ceased, hit that breaker, nothing is coming, there is nothing left.
That year is over, it hit the breaker, this year begins with a calm stream. Picking up the pebbles as it flows. It is calm, peaceful, nearly perfect. I am sure there will be waves, but maybe I am ready this year. This year, I will surf the waves, ride them out, this year the ocean will not win.