Give and Take

We have been conditioned to thinking that the act of giving is an act of love and taking is to be avoided.

To give is noble, to take is selfish.

I think this is overly simplistic to a dangerous degree.

When children are born they need to be takers in order to survive and live.

They are showered and swathed in love. This is the healthiest kind of taking that there is. Children have no way or expectation of returning or showing appreciation, so they can take with pure love and without baggage. In a healthy environment, where the parents love their children the children absorb and take in a healthy manner.

Taking needs to be in proportion to what's deserved for there to be a peaceful sense of equilibrium. If a child is raised and continues to be spoiled and given to unconditionally even at a later age then it starts bordering on unhealthy taking. Unhealthy taking leads to resentment and the feeling that there is an unhealthy ulterior motive involved in the giving.

I believe that only after someone is the recipient of healthy taking and being loved can they turn around and give to others.

A heart full of love can overflow and love others.

One has never received in a healthy manner would have a very hard time giving in a healthy manner.

This is true in relationships as well. Sexual relations are called "chessed" in the Torah. It can be a tremendous act of giving, but if the giver and taker are not completely connected, if they are not giving and taking in heart, mind and soul then it's molestation or worse.

The act of giving can be an incredibly selfish and even evil act.

People give for all kinds of selfish reasons. People give to control others,

they give because it makes them feel better, even when it's not in the best interest of the recipient.

The first act of human giving in the Torah almost destroyed the world.

When Chava gave Adam to eat from the Eitz Hadass it was the ultimate act of selfishness. 

She had never been at the receiving end of an act of giving.

The Neshama of Adam is that of David and ultimately Moshiach.

The selfish act of Chavas giving and Adams taking was the polar opposite of Ruth's behavior. She learned to live off of others when she needed to. She was the recipient of her mother in law's grace and then caught the attention of Boaz with the manner in which she went out to collect wheat from the field with utmost modesty. Her act of taking led to a sudden abundance in Boaz's crops wherever she went. 

Only then was she able to give back and become the mother of redemption.

On a universal level this is also true.

The world is not yet ready to receive the bounty of redemption. When one receives what one is not ready to take, it is called the bread of shame. It's an uncomfortable taking which leads to resentment. This is precisely what happened after the giving of the Torah. The Jewish people were not ready for that kind of revelation as evidenced by the fact that they passed out after hearing one word from the mouth of Hashem. This eventually led to their rebelling against the one that gave them this sudden bounty while they were completely inadequate in their means of appreciating and taking.

Moshiach will come when there will be a perfect equilibrium. When the collective human experience will earn the ability to accept and receive Hashems reward and bounty in a healthy, deserving way.

On Shavuos we celebrate the revelation on Sinai as well as the life of King David.

The theme of these pivotal moments in the relationship between humankind and the divine is the same that drives interpersonal relationships successfully or otherwise.

I think that this could be one reason why we eat dairy products on Shavuos.

An animal has two ways of giving of its food. One way is through meat. The only way for this to work is if the animal dies. This represents the toxic way of giving, which results in the death of the giver, much like it did by Chava.

Then there's milk. The animal gives of itself and continues living. This represents a healthy giving, which doesn't result in ill effects to the giver.

May we all be worthy of taking graciously with eyes wide open.

.

pollination

.

the other day
...I took a nap in my hammock
really not sure how long

...but I woke up
coated in yellow dust
...like a mold..everyhwere
grass growing in my throat
....weeds in my eyelids
flowers on my legs and arms

oh how I pity mother earth
...with no fingers to
scratch herself with


.

sometimes life

.

sometimes...life
....approaches like
a beastlike dance
....................partner
demanding a waltz

one can either
.....embrace it

and learn to dance
...with the beast
(and wait until the last petal inevitably falls)


Or one can run
and run......
....and runnnn



the problem with running is..
.....once you start
you can never
.........stop






.

Playing to win...

.


One of the most useful things about sports is the rich variety of truisms it lends us.
One line you will hear every so often if you follow sports is "They're playing not to lose.."
I'll briefly try to describe a scenario.
You have 2 hockey teams playing a playoff series. The team that comes into the series heavily favored is suddenly down 2 games to none. During Game 3 you start discerning that instead of the favorite playing with a drive to win, the players are playing not to lose. You see fear as the driving motivating force. They're not as loose and confident. It's the job of the coach to change that mindset and get the players to play to win.

I think that when it comes to Chinuch these days our community is playing not to lose.
We're gripped with this fear of our children going off the derech or rebelling in some form or another that we're constantly on the defensive.
I see parents allowing their young teenaged sons to do as they please.
I see people afraid of adding "too many restrictions".
I see a generation that has given up on Idealism, on striving to push ourselves and our children to greatness.
I see parents afraid of meting out punishments to youngsters.

In other words we've ceased playing to win, and when that happens you usually lose.


.

clapper

.

Do you know Mr Clapper?

..hmmm Clapper.......his name rings a bell


.

driven

.

most people hear "He's driven to succeed.."
........and think
wow..that's admirable

I find myself
......wondering

who's driving?








.

The Unending Trial

.

The wooden chair seemed to be getting harder by the minute. Each passing hour testing his patience and wearing on his fragile mental state. He was in the middle of the 10,976th day of his unending trial.
He was Shabsie Stein, our defendant.
For as long as he can remember, he had been a defendant. His life, shaped by the memories, forever fearful of the impending verdict of peers and perpetually vilified and on the defensive.
His tired eyes scanned the room, as more and more witnesses piled in to testify on behalf of the indefatigable prosecution.
The judge banged his gavel indicating the next witness approach the stand.
His neighbor Mr Steinberg stepped up while nodding to the judge. He began to testify in angry scowls about his neighbors inability to keep his yard clean and his kids well behaved. It was a disgrace to the neighborhood, he declared silently. Shabsie started to protest, "MY kids not behaved...?!", but his lawyer placed his hand on his pulling his anger back into it's seat.
Next up was his daughters teacher, Mrs. Weinglass. Oh she made his skin crawl. She just stood there silently moving her head up and down as if to say, "Why don't you do your homework with Devorah Leah more diligently, do you think school is a joke??"
She reminded him of an earlier witness, some 20 years ago, who testified the same things about him, when he was the student, with the same head motion.
Then as now he had nothing to say in his defense.
Just thinking about the thousands of witnesses who have testified throughout was enough to exhaust the most virile of men. Some of the more painful ones were his parents, who would pop in every once in awhile with fresh evidence of his inability to make them proud.
Then there were the absurd witnesses, like his co-worker who testified to the court that Shabsie's lunch break monologues were boring and not funny at all.
Or the time his Rabbi and another guy in the shul testified back to back, one stating that his smart phone was too modern and the other, that it was hopelessly not cool.

The sharp rap of the gavel brought him back to the present as the Gabbai of the shul in which he davens shuffled up to the front just as if he were shuffling to the Bimah for an Aliyah. He smiled at Shabsie but behind the smile there was a subdued list of complaints. It started with the fact that he shlepped a little when davening for the amud and continued with the fact that he was a bit of loser for sitting on the table with the old men and ended with the fact that he doesn't donate enough to the shul coffers.
The jury all seemed to shake their head in unison. He was doomed.
Shabsie turned to his lawyer who looked at him with pitiful eyes.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Don't you have anything to say in my defense?"
"Oh, I get it, you think I'm just as guilty.."
His lawyer leaned over to him and motioned for him to do the same.
"There is only one motion that I can file to save you from this hell."
"So, what are you waiting for?", Shabsie demanded.
His lawyer continued, "the thing is, you have to really want it."
"I want you to think about this overnight and come to the conclusion on your own that you want me to go ahead with it".
With that he slipped a manila envelope over the shiny table to Shabsie and bid him good night.

The next morning Shabsie met his lawyer outside the courthouse. His hands were shaking as he asked, "are you sure about this?
I mean, is this really possible?"
"Absolutely, but it's all up to you, I'm just your voice in there", he said while pointing to the fast filling courtroom with his head.
They both walked in.
The room was packed with hundreds of witnesses and spectators and he could feel his nerves tighten up. He was suddenly unsure of himself and needed his lawyers hand for support. His lawyer squeezed firmly and they strode to their bench confidently.
The judge looked over the black glasses that were perched on the tip of his nose and with his irritating voice started the proceedings for day number 10,977.
"The court of the State of Perceived Public Opinion vs Shabsie Stein for the crime of general incompetence in life which carries with it the punishment of life in perceived purgatory with no parole..."
His lawyer stood up and declared, "your honor, I ask that this case be dismissed under rule 1907. Client is not under the courts jurisdiction. Client is not a citizen of your State and not subject to it's rules and judgement"
A hush fell over the courtroom.
The judge's face turned white. His glasses slipped off his nose and fell onto his desk as he took the motion into his hands and read it.
"Case dismissed!" He barked after 5 minutes of reading in shocked silence.

Shabsie turned around expecting an angry and frustrated mob, but his chair swiveled to an empty room. There was no one there.
He slowly got up and walked down the corridor, his shoes echoing in the marble chamber.
He stepped outside and inhaled the fresh spring air.
He was a free man.



.

Shir Hashirim

.


Through passages back into time
I row back to the spring of our love
for the elixir has lost it's shine
I am still the one
.....that caught your eye

I am female vessel...
(.....shatter prone)
to your strength to your desire
I am worthy...
by virtue
......of love alone

my heart and my soul..the closer I get
to the moonlit night..that you first...
quickens...as the oars gently
.....break the silence
with cool waters desire

fill me with love...steady..steady
love..so that I may overflow
so that I may be ready
....to fearlessly search
the labyrinth of my soul
..................for you
female vessel...waiting
for my...strength and desire

...and I am tied to
the abandoned pier
..steady......steady






.

fall...get up..celebrate

.


Rosh Chodesh Nisan was the day that the Mishkan (tabernacle) was erected in the dessert, and it was cause for great celebration at the time.
If one steps back and views the broader picture it would seem odd that this was be cause for joy.
Just weeks earlier the Jewish people accepted the Torah on Mt Sinai and reached a level of perfection that the world had not seen since before Adam sinned. The entire world was the Holy of Holies and death was conquered.
Then came the Golden Calf and the ensuing colossal spiritual collapse.
Suddenly all that was gone.
It would seem that the Mishkan should be a reason for sadness and regret. For reflecting on what was just lost.
What kind of consolation is that?

I think a beautiful idea lies here.

If someone suffers a spiritual fall, it's very easy for that person to get discouraged and to dwell on what was or what could have been. In reality this is self defeating behavior, because the ultimate goal is to find God and one can find Him no matter on what level he may find himself.
We understand that if someone thinks and schemes about committing a theft but never goes ahead with his plan then there are no consequences to contend with.
But if someone actually commits a theft, no matter how much true repentance and remorse is present, there will still be consequences because of his actions.
It is up to the person to embrace these consequences and gain a sense of freedom and redemption through them.
Accepting a new reality, instead of regretting the loss of what was.

When the Jews sinned with the Eigel they were suddenly faced with a new reality.
Instead of the Shechina filling the world, she was to be confined into a finite dwelling.
But ultimately Hashem showed us that even in this new reality I'm giving you opportunities for you to find me and cling to me. This was a cause of great celebration.
The message to us was and is...
Forget what was..dont miss a beat..the mission has not changed an iota.



.

spring frost

spring is here...
the calendar declares
oh..how sweet...
i can already see
the lilacs and daffodils
breaking thru the chill..
through the cold
..tundra of the soul
I crave the warm promise
even the proverbial premise
perhaps of spring

because from now until all eternity
every chill...
in my bones
that I feel
will have it's roots in
the cold dark winter of 2011
so yes...the calendar
does indeed say
spring is here
but outside and in... it's still cold..
but spring cant lie
.........forever



.

unmasked

.

as I stumble into your party..
...and you take off my mask
and then another
...........and another
wondering who I am
..I beg of you..God
keep peeling away..
...until you find someone
that you could (under)stand



.

The Immortal Henrietta Lacks

.

I recently came across the incredible tale of Henrietta Lacks and her immortal HeLa cells and I've been thinking about it ever since.

In 1951 a 31 year old Baltimore housewife and mother was diagnosed with cervical cancer. Shortly before she died, her doctor obtained a biopsy sample of her cancer cells. The cells astounded researchers and scientists by doing something they'd never seen before. Not only didn't they die but and they kept dividing and multiplying. Soon they took over all the tubes and dishes in the lab and they started contaminating other cell lines as well. While for me and you this might sound like a scifi nightmare, the scientific world was very excited about this immortal tumor. Soon enough requests started coming in from around the world for sample cells. These cells are now in thousands of labs around the world and they show no sign of slowing down. HeLa cells were used by Jonas Salk in his research that led up to the polio vaccine. They were used to help find cures to cancer and AIDS and more than 60,000 scientific papers have been published about research done on HeLa.

On some evolutionary level one can argue that Henrietta is the ultimate survivor and success story. After all, what is the human body if not for millions of cells? The survival and propagation of your cells is what it's all about. So what that her consciousness is not around to witness it? What difference does it make, that she has no clue of her immortality?
Then I thought about cancer in general. White blood cells start multiplying rapidly and killing off other cells. Basically you have a battle of cells inside your body. All the cells are YOU. Why are we taking sides?
The reason is quite simple, the "bad" cells while they might be all powerful are going to eventually kill the vital parts of your body and bring the whole game to end. So you side with the part of you that will prolong your life, even if it means killing other parts of you.
So too it is with spirituality and especially with addictive, compulsive behavior.
True, it might be just as part as ourself as our good self, but the fact is, that these behaviors are killing us spiritually. If we embrace bad behaviors, we slowly starve our souls while empowering our errant cells to run amok. So while on some level we might be viewed as a "success", on a much deeper level our consciousness and spiritual self awareness has been cut off and no longer functions.
We become the immortal Henrietta Lacks against our very deepest spiritual desires and wishes.






.

emotional roller coasters

.


emotional roller coasters
....should require safety restraints
not to mention the fact
.....that my inner fortitude
is nowhere near 54" high

or so I thought




.

no one can touch me

Music to die to.....
.


No one can hurt me but me...
I'm free..from the bondage
of this deadly lie
the tyranny of deception
Im completely broken...
and perfectly complete...
I'm flying home
into the pain
no one can touch me
but me alone...

me, alone

can hurt me
so dont let me be
...alone









.

shattered

.


All the Kings men
...and All the Kings horses
(not to mention..the specators)

couldn't put (him)(her) back together again




...only the

..........king himself
the ever loving

......merciful


king



.

The worst pain in the world...

.


The worst pain...in the world..




...is the pain..you're going through
right now



.

The Gift

Michael Berman hurried through the revolving door of his building as quick as the lady in the glass triangle in front of him would allow. The warmth of the lobby thawed his frozen fingers as he approached the elevator bank. He had a busy day ahead of him
Standing in the middle of 3 walls with 3 elevators in each side for a total of nine he pressed the up arrow and decided to play a little game. He took a random guess as to which elevator would come first and positioned himself before the gold double door. The wait was no longer than three seconds but seemed to take longer due to the artificially generated suspense of his little bet.
Sure enough the doors before him slowly opened spitting out it's human cargo of 2 chattering well dressed middle aged men and women. He smiled to himself and entered the empty elevator along with endlessly smiling clones reflected in the mirrored panels.
He caught his own impression and was satisfied with his smart good looks and smart threads.
"Good morning Mr. Berman", chirped Jennifer as he alighted on the 6th floor.
"Good morning Jennifer" he replied as he breezed by her to his office. After a busy morning in meetings his stomach was reminding him that he hadn't eaten a thing all day and so he found himself at the elevator bank once again.
He decided to play his little game again and settled before elevator number 1 and giddily waited. A strange thrill coursed through him as the doors opened before him once again.
After a quick sandwich he made his way back to the lobby, which was full of co-workers coming back from their breaks. He looked around and picked elevator 3 on the right and stood before it. Time seemed to stand still as he waited in silence. Suddenly a ding was heard behind him and he jerked his head around to see the arrow above elevator 9 light up and the 5-6 people in the room move toward the doors in anticipation. He felt a pang of disappointment for a moment wondering how this ridiculous notion even entered his head to begin with. He was about to turn to elevator 9 when he heard a groan coming from the assembled. The doors wouldn't open he turned his head back to see the golden doors of his elevator 3 opening slowly before him. His head spun for a moment as the crowd pushed past him.
"Are you all right"? Inquired Bill from accounting.
"Yes..I'm fine Thank you, just a little dizzy", he replied with a half smile.

He had a hard time concentrating the rest of the day. All he could think about was this strange elevator coincidence. He was tempted several times during the afternoon to try the elevator banks but decided that it would only work if he used them, as he would naturally. So he anxiously waited for 5:30 when he packed his bag and floated down the hall. This time he was feeling a sense of inevitability, so he turned to Sarah, one of the new interns, and matter of fact stated that elevator 8 was going to be the next one. She turned to him and said playfully, "oh yea? well I happen to think that elevator 7 will be coming next".
"Hmm and what do I get if I'm right?"
But before she could reply, it became plainly obvious that he was indeed right as elevator 8 opened up before him.
"How did you know that?", she asked, looking at him suspiciously.
He had 100 things to reply to her but found his mouth too dry to open.

The next day passed much like the day before and by the time the day was over everyone was talking about Mike's strange new talent.

He sat in traffic impatiently as he couldn't wait to tell his wife of his odd new talent. There were a million things going through his mind. On the one hand, he felt an all encompassing exhilaration unlike anything he'd ever felt, on the other hand he felt strangely removed from what was happening to him. It just didn't make sense.

His wife's reaction was not what he needed at that moment. She was somewhere between indifferent and skeptical, of the one eyebrow raised variety. A good night sleep was desperately needed.

He opened his eyes the next morning and stared out his window at the magnificent oak that was shedding it's brown leaves and sending them floating on small drifts of passing wind, wondering if the odd events of the day before were merely a figment of his over-stressed mind. His wife's grating morning voice took him out of his reverie "Hey elevator boy, aren't you late?", and he knew that it was all too real.
He hurriedly dressed and after an anxious ride found himself surrounded by the familiar golden elevator doors.
He was standing there debating with himself, whether or not to continue with his little game when suddenly Juan the doorman looked up from his post and said "so, what's it gonna be this time Mike?"
"Excuse me?"
"Which door is gonna open? Come on, half the building is talking about your psychic elevator powers"
"Oh I got no power I just got lucky.."
"Come come now indulge an old man"
"Fine, I think elevator 1 is the lucky elevator this morning", and with that he pressed the button with a flourish and they waited in silence.
Then the moment they both sensed was inevitable when door 1 opened.
"Jesus christ" muttered Juan and looked away.

Juan had the loudest mouth East of his mothers house and so by the time lunch break came around the whole building was waiting for Mike.
He felt a rush of excitement and a burst of self confidence as he made a show of walking around the lobby as everyone stared in a anticipation. He finally parked himself before door 7, a few people in the audience clapped. His shoes were especially shiny today.
Elevator door 7 opened, and the crowd burst into applause. He gave an exaggerated bow and went in. He stood by himself in the rising elevator not knowing what to make of this new found talent. Could it be that he was able to perceive the very slight imperceptible cues of vibration and wind rushing up the shaft that others couldn't? Or was there something supernatural going on?
In the office he was becoming a bit of a distraction as everyone seemed to want to know his secret, but he was as clueless as they were.
Once again when it was time to leave, a crowd was waiting for him at the elevator bank and once again he relished the attention. He looked around at the myriad of reflections of himself and felt good.


When he came home he didn't mention anything to his wife and she didn't inquire. It was as if a silent pact was sealed between them that this strange phenomena not enter their home.

After a sleepless night he stood before the mirror and made his tie slowly and carefully but under the surface he was shaking, he felt gifted in a strange way, but somehow it left him feeling hollow as well, after all, what was the point of this gift?

Nothing could have prepared him for what greeted him at work. There were TV reporters in the lobby waiting for him!
He walked in and lights shone on him as reporters voices drifted in and out of his conscientiousness "the elevator psychic Michael Berman.."
He was taken aback as a microphone was shoved in his face and a fresh faced reporter asked him "So Michael, how do you explain your powers?"
"Honestly I have no idea how to explain it.."
"Mr. Berman has this changed your life in any way?"
He started getting annoyed and made his way to the elevator bank and slowly pressed the button. All eyes turned toward him as he stood before door number 3. A audible gasp filled the room as the doors to elevator number 3 slowly opened.
He entered alone, turned and was blinded by flashbulbs before the doors mercifully closed and left him with his own reflections on the mirrored walls.
"My God", he exhaled and continued his ride up twitching his feet nervously. His heart was racing and his fists were clenched. He got to his office aware of eyes pasted to his back. There were blue ones and brown ones, ones with glasses and those with lenses, some were spooked out others more admiring, and then he closed the door and they slid off his jacket.
He sat down at his desk and would not get up until 7:30, except for 2 bathroom breaks.
He stayed as late as he can so that there would be no crowd when he left, but when he alighted the elevator in the lobby he found a throng of curious locals waiting for him. Apparently his "variety act" had made it to TV. He indulged the crowd a bit, especially the better looking ones amongst them and made his way home.
It was obvious from the look on his wife's face that she too had seen the news and wasn't thrilled. The silent wall went up between them comprised of a desire not speak the unspeakable nor comprehend the un-comprehensible.

The next morning, there was an even larger crowd of gawkers and he was in no mood of facing them so he snuck around to the freight elevator un-noticed and came into his office, only to see his boss waiting for him.
"Pack your bags and leave, you've become too much of a distraction to the company..", he heard through a fog of confusion and dizziness.

Mike Berman, too shocked to defend himself, packed his stuff and found himself before the 9 familiar elevators. He pressed the down arrow and waited. He felt a wave of nausea wave through his body as elevator number 2 opened before him. He walked in alone and let the doors close. As the dings announced each passing floor he felt an uncontrollable rage raise up through his body. He slammed the STOP button and the elevator lurched to a halt. He looked in the mirror and saw an angry pathetic face looking back, turned to the left and was trapped by the same man. He let out a loud primal scream and slammed his hand into the mirror shattering glass everywhere. He was sobbing and yelling to some unseen power "Why?? Why?? Why do this to me????"
"Take back this FREAKING gift..and give it to someone else!!!"
He collapsed in a heap, smeared with blood and tears.

In a darkened control room, some 20 feet away, an elevator operator, drank down his beer, peered into a little black and white screen and wondered if his little prank had gone too far.











.

onward and awkward

.



they waited..

fidgeting


as...the pregnant pause

.....gave birth




......to a stillborn moment










and the silence....went on and on and on......





.

Teens and the elderly. Freedom and consequences.

A person is a person because he has what no other creature on earth has, and that's freedom.
Freedom of choice.
It's what sets us apart from the millions of other organisms in the world.

But..there's a flip side to freedom.

Consequences.

It's what makes this freedom to choose fraught with anxiety. The idea of owning up to and being bound by our choices.

Mrs. O'Learys cow is on no ones list of evil figures for starting the Great Chicago Fire. But humans can make one bad choice and live with the consequences forever.
Much like Raskolnikov in Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment who is tortured by how to react and live with one fateful act that he committed.

I think what's needed is a perfect balance of freedom along with a healthy dose of awareness to responsibility of our actions. A comprehensive understanding of the choice, freedom and consequences before actually acting on the choice makes you "own" the choice.

The reason why Crime and Punishment ends so beautifully is because the young couple has something to look forward to after his 7 years of incarceration..freedom. Balance.

I find it very interesting that the 2 groups that we find having the hardest time adapting and being happy are teens and the elderly.

Interestingly enough, human beings are the only known animal to have this phenomena of adolescence to begin with. All other animals go straight from childhood to adulthood.

Teens and the elderly represent the 2 flip sides of the same coin.
Freedom and Consequences.

Teens are full of newly obtained freedom but haven't yet experienced enough life to internalize the concept of consequence which throws everything off balance. So they act and choose without truly "owning" their choices and actions.
While the elderly on the other hand are rapidly losing their freedoms while at the same time can just sit there and reflect on consequences born of a lifetime of choices and deeds.

And then there are addicts that lose their ability to choose altogether, thus their basic human trait.

Just a thought.



.

a moment in time

What is
...a moment in time?
does it move?
(toward us like a gentle breeze...and pass)

...or do we have to bring it in?
(like a gaze from someone we love)

does it even...exist?
..or does it
......just support
whatever happens
...to be happening
.........................then
(like hands holding a coffin aloft)

How many moments go
.....unfelt
unused
.......untouched
?

until..we're gasping
....grasping
at the final ones floating

........away


One thing is certain about these elusive things..
called moments
.....it is the only way to access
your soul...
....your life




As The Virgin Queen with her dying words did sayeth..

"All my possessions.....for a..
.....moment in time"



.