Roots in Heaven

I stumbled across this beautiful image during a Google search today. It reminds me of a something my rabbi frequently quoted, "Torah is a tree with its roots in heaven and its branches spread upon the Earth."

from http://fineartamerica.com

Selecting Your First Tarot Deck

Many people insist that you should not purchase your own deck, but should receive it as a gift. Who wants to wait? Go find yourself a deck, one that works for you. It is important that your deck appeals to you and that expresses your world view and your cultural or spiritual affinities.

Be sure you select a 78-card tarot deck, not an oracle deck. Tarot decks have 22 major arcana cards and 56 minor arcana cards.

There are a dizzying multitude of decks to choose from today, so look around. You can view a few cards from hundreds of different decks at Aeclectic Tarot. You can also view all the cards from nearly one hundred decks at Tarot.com.

Be cautious of novelty decks, ones that have a particular theme, for example The Babylon Five Tarot or The Alcohol Tarot. Don't avoid them, just consider carefully. I have seen some that work well as divination tools (for example, the Mythic Tarot, which is based on several Greek myths), but generally, the novelty will limit their application to real life and block your intuition. Every deck has its own personality; get one that you can be friends with.


When choosing a deck, look for imagery that appeals to you as well as detailed images. Unless you wish to pursue the Marseilles tradition, look for a deck in which the Minor Arcana cards show more than suit symbols, i.e., not just seven swords or three cups; there should be pictures scenes that you can relate to. See the two card images of the Three of Cups below for a comparison.
It's tempting to buy another deck and then another. There is no deck that will immediately transform you into a great tarot reader. Learning tarot takes time and attention, but that time will be fruitful. Pull cards regularly and consider how they relate to your life experiences.
 
My first deck was the Aquarian Tarot, which never really spoke to me. I eventually found The Robin Wood Tarot deck, which I used for years. (I was sad when it eventually wore out—so don’t riffle your deck as if you are a card sharp.) Now the deck I use most often is the Gaian Tarot, a fabulous deck that the artist spent nine years creating.

When I finally found my first tarot deck, I was unable to find any book except Arthur Edward Waite’s Pictorial Key to the Tarot. It wasn’t helpful to me, so I had to teach myself by seeing how events in my daily life seemed connected to the cards I’d pulled. There is no shortage of tarot books today. Just remember to note your first impressions before turning to a book.
While looking for a deck, read reviews (at Tarot Passages or Aeclectic.net) to find out the quality of the cards you are considering. Some decks have cards that are flimsy and won't survive a few shuffles. Some are so large that they are difficult to shuffle. For now, don't select a miniature deck; you'll want to be able to see details in the pictures.

There are three reading styles: Marseilles, Rider-Waite, and Thoth. Most books rely on the second, so a Rider-Waite style deck is a good starting point.

If you are uncertain what deck to purchase, consider starting with the Rider-Waite deck, originally published in 1910. Since it is the most popular deck, many books have been written about it. Other decks may only have a "little white book" listing the card meanings. Also consider The Universal Waite, in which the art of the original Rider-Waite deck has been re-colored.
However, if you don't like those two decks, keep looking! Again, get the deck that appeals to you.

Once you find a deck, treat it with care. Some readers recommend that you protect your cards by wrapping them in silk, storing them in a wooden box, and not letting other people touch them. You should certainly treat your deck with respect, but if you want to let others look at and handle it, that's okay.

Good luck with your tarot explorations! When you find your deck, start working with it every day. If you don't have a partner to study with, there are study groups on the Aeclectic forum. 


Card images in this post are from: Tarot of the Sevenfold Mystery, The Robin Wood Tarot, the Marseilles Tarot, the Liminal Tarot, and the Impressionist Tarot. (I only own the Robin Wood Tarot.)

The Birds, The Bees, The Bats, and Everyone Else

גִיוֹרֶת

Writing this essay was a required part of my aliyah application. At the time, I resisted writing about this experience, let alone revealing so much of myself to strangers. Now, however,  I'd like to share it.

A certificate of conversion

In the summer of 1994, I visited my parents in Arizona. The public library there had a book called The Way of Splendor by Edward Hoffman. It was about the Hasidic movement in Eastern Europe during the 18th and 19th centuries and was my introduction to the history and culture of the Jewish people—I’d barely been aware that history existed.

After reading it, I wanted to experience a Shabbat service and hear L’cha Dodi one Friday evening. It was several weeks before I entered a shul. On erev Yom Kippur, I visited Temple Beth El in the San Francisco Bay Area.

Moments after the service began, I knew that I had found my home. The prayers “resonated” with me, and Rabbi Berg’s sermon included Hasidic tales that were hopeful and life affirming.

The first Friday night following Yom Kippur, after erev Shabbat services, Rabbi Berg invited me to attend Saturday morning Torah study.

Each week, during services we read the weekly parasha, but during Saturday morning Torah study before services, we studied the Torah line-by-line at our own pace, savoring each word, each idea. My first Shabbat, we were reading about the crossing of the Reed Sea. (Thankfully, I did not say, “Hey, there’s a typo in your bible-- it’s supposed to be the Red Sea.”)

Everyone had thoughts they shared, literary to scientific, psychological and agricultural, spiritual and occasionally Talmudic. From “Wow! Isn’t that beautiful imagery” (“and the ground under his feet… was like the very sky for purity”) to an agricultural explanation as to why one generally does not eat first fruits. There were about twenty of us who attended every week. We found gems, even when we struggled through Leviticus.

I did not miss even a dozen Torah studies during the seven years I attended Temple Beth El (three years before and four years after my conversion.) I loved that Rabbi Berg was the kind of leader who facilitated our experience of the text rather than telling us what to think. He was—and I'm sure he still is—a leader who encouraged us to experience Judaism, not one who laid down any rules about what the experience should be.

Nothing I’d heard about the so-called “Judeo-Christian” tradition seemed to apply to this joyful, life-affirming, intelligent, spiritual community. I enjoyed the words of the prayers and rejoiced seeing the Torah being carried around the shul. I appreciated seeing couples who seemed to be in love with each other. (One woman had made her husband a tallis from the chuppah she had woven for their wedding and, each week, during the closing song of the service, he would reach over and wrap her in it, too.) I adored the community and the welcoming attitudes of the people there.

During those first few months, attracted to the community and fascinated by its learning, I was repeatedly delighted to discover that Judaism was beautiful, kind, open, and so many other good things. There is always hope and it’s possible to do more than merely survive. Rabbi Berg said that we break a glass (to commemorate the Temple) at weddings because “If you remember your greatest sorrow at the time of your greatest joy, you will remember your greatest joy during the time of your greatest sorrow.”

Immediately after that first Shabbat, I read The Sabbath by Abraham Joshua Heschel. (Can you imagine encountering the concept of Shabbos for the first time? I was amazed!) And then I read voraciously: everything Rabbi Berg mentioned in Torah study, many of the books in the temple library, anything I could find in the local, used book stores. (I was disappointed that I never connected with his favorite author, Philip Roth. I still don’t… perhaps because I am completely lacking in the culture of Yiddishkeit?)

I went to shul every Friday night and Saturday morning. I was reading and learning every day of the week.

I also learned about volunteering. There were always plenty of volunteer opportunities available through Temple Beth El. One was at an AIDS hospice. At first, I would only work in the garden. Later I worked in the kitchen area. Although, I found the idea frightening, I eventually began spending a little time with the residents.

I began lighting Shabbat candles right away and gradually added other practices. Lighting Chanukah candles for the first time felt familiar, as if I’d done it hundreds of times before.

There were courses offered through the Jewish community. Each spring and fall, you could choose two out of about eight classes that would be held at one of the local synagogues. They covered Shabbat, history, Kabbalah, music, holidays, prophets, and other topics. Scholars like Danny Matt would share their knowledge with us.

Rabbi Berg brought scholars and musicians to the shul. He led retreats north of San Francisco. Temple Beth El was a community of people deeply engaged in Jewish life.

Community and listening to other people were major elements of my conversion: hearing how people had grown up Jewish in different areas, learning about the Holocaust from people who had escaped as children, but had lost family who had been sent to Poland or Spain (one man had been a child refugee in China during the war), learning about growing up in a Jewish neighborhood in the United States, how one woman’s mother had responded to a doctor’s orders to feed her daughter bacon.

I didn’t know enough to ask the questions I should have. Why did Reform Jews say “Gut Shabbos” and call the temple a shul? I didn’t have the awareness to ask more about the Shoah and I still don’t understand one friend’s feelings about seemingly innocent words he said, as a small child, to his parents shortly after Krystallnacht.

There were Pesach dinners with Marion Dolgoff’s family and with the families of Frank and Ingrid Jonas, the afternoon Yom Kippur walk I took with Bobbie Freedman each year, and Rosh HaShanah dinners with Bobbie Freedman and her friends, studying The Book of Jonah from a different perspective each Yom Kippur with Rabbi Berg and others between services, Chanukah with Laine and Joel Schipper, conversations with Evelyn Holzman, women’s gatherings, the sukkah at the shul. (My deep regret, years later, when I realized how I had failed to be supportive of Marion Dolgoff.)

Ingrid and Frank became like family to me. Many times, I cried with gratitude, driving home on Friday nights, because of the joy and love I felt with them. And I was able to express my love. Each year, at seder and Thanksgiving dinner, I saw Frank's children, and they began to feel like family, too.

I went to services and Torah study every week for a long time before I seriously considered conversion. Then, I began meeting with Rabbi Berg to ask questions and learn more about a number of topics.

I had taken basic, prayerbook Hebrew and other classes, attended Shabbat and holiday services, and been invited to people’s homes for holidays. Rabbi Berg had me memorize certain passages, for example: Shema/V’ahavta, Kaddish, Ma’ariv Aravim, and Kiddush.

He discussed holidays with me: the significance of Purim and how to approach Yom Kippur. I didn’t truly understand Purim until just a few years ago. Sometimes I think that I am still converting to Judaism. Obviously, there will always be more information to learn, but understanding deepens over time, too.

I had read several books about the Jewish holidays before Rabbi Berg and I began formal study. The Jewish Way by Irving Greenberg (his perspective and Rabbi Berg’s are a little different) and Keeping Passover by Ira Steingroot are still references for me. Rabbi Berg recommended a number of books to help me increase my understanding of the High Holy Days, including Shmuel Yosef Agnon’s Days of Awe.

He wanted me to be familiar with the philosophy and origins of the Reform movement, but also wanted me to be aware of some traditional practices and he recommended the experience of keeping kosher. (Among many other books, I read How to Run a Traditional Jewish Household by Blu Greenberg, Kashrut by Samuel Dresner, Total Immersion by Rivkah Slonim, and The Rise of Reform Judaism by Gunther Plaut.)

In community and Torah study, I had felt the presence of god, but was unable to describe that experience in words. When I mentioned this, Rabbi Berg said words aren’t always necessary; we each have a private image of god, just as we each have a private image of revelation at Sinai.

Rabbi Berg emphasized the importance of people-hood and, having felt the support and love of the community, I began to understand that, too. We discussed, among many other books, Jews, God, and History by Max Dimant. Over the years, he had recommended historical fiction, like The Last of the Just by Andre Schwarz-Bart, as well as books such as Night by Eli Wiesel, Altneuland by Theodor Herzel, and The Origins of Totalitarianism by Hannah Arendt.

My love of Judaism, my appreciation of Torah and community, gave me a new perspective on life in general, and also on my own life. They gave me confidence and hope. Since god gave us Torah, each of us has value.

My childhood had not prepared me for adulthood or the outside world: we had moved about every six months, my mother was unwell, my father was angry. (Later I realized that what looked like rage, was in fact, constant fear.) They didn’t like me to leave the house or have friends, but they didn’t interact with me except when they were angry, at me or at each other. I had trouble speaking, and I was terrified of people. Social skills eluded me; I didn’t even understand them.

My time at Temple Beth El changed me. Like me, the people there enjoyed books and ideas—they weren't bad things!—but I had never met people who listened respectfully to each other (they listened even to me, even when I had nothing really worth saying) and they truly communicated: shared ideas and explored ideas together.

I was welcomed immediately. In many dreams that I had then, Rabbi Berg and his wife, Bonnie, appeared as my parents. On some level, I had found a new family and was experiencing childhood again. I had found a community and, against all probability, they loved me.

I became able to speak and eventually to articulate (sometimes) my thoughts. Several friends, who became b’not mitzvah as adults, insisted I must have the experience. So in 2000, three years after my conversion, I did. I gave a d’var Torah that had no objective value, but what mattered to me was that it really expressed my thoughts and feelings about Ki Tisa and about being Jewish. Being able to understand and express myself for the first time felt like a miraculous gift. It was possible because I was surrounded by the love and support of my community.

One of the most important things I learned from the community and especially from Rabbi Berg cannot be boiled down to something that fits on a syllabus: how to approach death and mourning.

Rabbi Berg's example of serious attention and compassion toward mourners, and the culture he facilitated of attending every funeral and shiva had an impact on me (and my expectations) that I didn't fully recognize then. Many people from the Torah study group and many from the general congregation went to every funeral and every shiva. We cooked. We spent time with the mourners. Rabbi Berg ensured there was a minyan at the home every day.

At first, I cooked to calm my own feelings about death and I spent shivas in the mourners’ kitchens, helping. Gradually, I began interacting with friends and distant relatives of the deceased; to those most affected, I said little beyond “Sorry for your loss.” But I watched how mourners behaved and how people I admired responded to them; I learned things that I remembered later.

Perhaps, of Rabbi Berg's many gifts as a rabbi, his greatest is caring for the bereaved and for their departed, of knowing its importance. I admired his wife because her brain and heart worked together and I guess that’s what Rabbi Berg was able to do, too.

Once, I went with everyone else to attend a funeral that Rabbi Berg led for a man who had not been a member of Temple Beth El. Earlier that day, I had happened to be in the front office briefly while he met the man’s family in his office. I heard him encourage the family's recollections and, even in the brief moment I was there, I recognized the seriousness he gave their words and unspoken feelings. Later, he gave a eulogy that the family clearly found meaningful. I am grateful that I “had” to go to that funeral. The memory reminds me of how I learned the importance of comforting the bereaved; it reminds me of being surrounded by people with love and caring in their hearts, in their minds, and on their lips.

Of all the wonderful things about Judaism, I think that particular mitzvah is one of the most important and I continue to try to learn how to do that with something of the enormous care and attention that I saw Rabbi Berg offer.

There is a book called Jewish Views of the Afterlife by Simcha Paull Raphael. It describes a great number of Jewish beliefs about the afterlife, but it was people who taught me what was important in our response to death: supporting the people who are facing it.

Bill Fein was a Torah study regular who had studied for his conversion with Rabbi Berg. His father had been Jewish, but his mother had raised him in a fundamentalist church in the South; he had wanted to leave and become Jewish since he was very young. His enthusiasm for Judaism had always filled me with joy. (He expressed his enthusiasm in many ways, down to a rodeo-style belt buckle engraved with a Magen David.) Bill Fein was proud to call himself a convert.

Bill was hit by a car while walking to shul during a visit to Scotland. We were all thinking of him and waiting for news of him while his wife flew to Scotland. He died there, far away from his community, but I think if he could have chosen a manner of death, dying on the way to shul would have been okay with him.

Although he and I had not been close, his passing affected me profoundly. We all missed his presence in our community. Conversations people had about his life made me realize how deep my feelings about Judaism were. Evelyn Holzman said that he died happy with his life, his marriage, his child, his work, and happy with being Jewish; a moment later, I realized that I wouldn’t really be alive in any meaningful way unless I made the commitment to become Jewish.

After I told Rabbi Berg that I was ready to begin formal study, he said that he had been a proponent of my conversion for a long time. My formal conversion took place in September 1997. The beit din included people who had become my friends. There was an indescribable moment in the mikvah, and when I emerged from the water, I was a Jew.

At Rosh Hashanah services, a few days after my conversion, someone thanked me for converting. I was dumbfounded. I had converted for me. I have done nothing for the Jewish people except want to belong.

Once I believed that being Jewish meant preserving Torah, but now I think that being Jewish is seeing the world differently than other people do. It’s about actions you take because you share Jewish values. It means caring about the continued existence of the Jewish people. It’s about contributing to and being revitalized by community. And, for me, it’s about going home, to Israel.

Meyerbeer's Hallelujah

Learning to Wait

Faith, Attention, and Empowerment

The central card, the Seven of Coins, certainly represents me. It expresses my impatience. When will my aliyah be approved? It tells me that I must continue working; instead of expecting immediate results, I must take pleasure in the preparations. My goal isn't simply to make aliyah; it's to make myself and my life better.

The Empress shows that I was inspired to recognize the abundance in my life and to relinquish security for the opportunity to grow.

The Magician advises me to recognize that I have the life experience, tools, and ability to make my life what I want it to be.

Together, these three cards speak of transforming material abundance into spiritual abundance.

Aliyah – The Waiting Stage

Cover of Day After Night
by Anita Diamant.

Nefesh b’Nefesh promotes itself as an organization that facilitates immigration to Israel. You've probably seen their beautiful ads and been amazed by all the things they promise to do to bring Jews home. 

So far, NBN has not impressed me.

In short:

The only things you can expect in return for your $50 application fee is the application itself and having someone submit the application to the Jewish Agency for you. After Nefesh b'Nefesh submits your application, you will have to resubmit it yourself and obtain additional documentation.

No one at NBN will be able to answer any of your questions. So, if you’d like to make aliyah, make sure you know someone who has already made aliyah or someone who is currently living in Israel. They can be more helpful than your “personal Aliyah Coordinator” or anyone else at NBN.

Details:

2014

After submitting my aliyah application, I tried to do some research. The NBN website did not have sufficient information about ulpans or about Israeli medical plans. (Links to medical sites in Hebrew do not count as sufficient information.)

When I asked my “personal Aliyah Coordinator” about these topics, she referred me back to the website. Annoying.

Then, a Nefesh b’Nefesh representative told me that my rabbi’s letter was “insufficient” and that I would be required to submit additional passports. I received similar e-mails from a number of different NBN representatives over several months. I asked what my rabbi should add to his letter or what I could do about owning only one passport, but none of them responded. Frustrating!

I had begun to feel more settled and content especially after finally having obtained employment, so I didn't continue to bug NBN. 

Many months later another NBN representative e-mailed me. Apparently, my rabbi's letter and single passport were no longer a problem; he informed me that the only thing left for me to do was submit a personal essay. (My bad; I had been hoping to avoid that requirement; I detest writing personal essays.) After I drafted and submitted the essay, he wrote that my application was ready to go.

I had, by this time, obtained what initially seemed like better employment. However, a few of my coworkers were unabashedly antisemitic (one stood in the hallway and shouted "Heil Hitler") and my boss, a messianic, had engineered her boss's termination because she wanted the position.

I asked that NBN rep when I would have an interview with The Jewish Agency (the organization that is responsible for aliyah). He did not know and wrote, “It's best to speak to your personal Aliyah Coordinator that has been assigned to you.”

So I asked her when my interview would be. She responded, “If you have not scheduled this yet, you may do so by calling or emailing their main office in your region. Your representative can be found at the following link.” Why hadn't she told me that sooner?

Of course the link that she provided didn’t work. Frustrating!

March 2015

I tracked down the contact information for the nearest Jewish Agency office. The woman there scheduled my phone interview for the next day—on March 19th. Things were finally moving!

After arguing with me about my age for several minutes and asking me several questions about Jesus (?!), the Jewish Agency representative asked for additional documents, including my tax records and an additional essay about my conversion, this time detailing each step of my conversion process.

I don’t know why NBN hadn’t included those documents on its list of requirements, but I had no trouble providing them, so no big deal. I told her that I wanted to live in an absorption center and said that she recommended the one in Kiryat Yam. There wasn’t much information about that absorption center on the NBN website, so I asked my NBN “personal Aliyah Coordinator” the following questions:

1. Is the absorption center a community or just a collection of apartments—are there group activities or responsibilities?

2. How much is the rent and how long can I stay there?

3. The NBN website says there is room for 300 people. Will there be people from many countries? (The fewer English speakers, the better, but I don’t want to be the only American with 299 people who are all from the same country.)

4. The NBN website says that absorption center's ulpan is only two days a week. Would I be able to reach the Haifa Regional Ulpan on bus or foot?

My “personal Aliyah Coordinator” couldn't answer and referred me back to the website!!! Frustrating. (Luckily, a friend in Israel was able to get some information for me. That absorption center is dedicated to Ethiopian immigrants. I decided I did not want to learn to speak Hebrew with an Ethiopian accent.)

The standard ending of all NBN emails is “Please let me know if you need assistance.” That statement does not mean assistance will be forthcoming.

Per the instructions I received during my phone interview, I immediately contacted the shaliach (according to a friend, the word means government official but used to mean delivery person) who would conduct my in-person interview. The shaliach wrote, “I will be happy to schedule the interview can it be beginning of May?” A long wait, but at least there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Certain that it would take at least three months to sell my house, I put it on the market. (Again: my bad-- really, really bad!) My house sold in five days! During the thirty-day closing period, I repeatedly attempted to get a precise date for my in-person interview, but received no response to my calls or e-mails. Terrifying!

April 2015

After Passover, I still couldn’t reach the shaliach, so I asked my “personal Aliyah coordinator” if she would find out why. She wrote:

Please let me know which phone number you are trying to reach the Shaliach in Tucson.

You had a phone interview but they can’t send off your aliyah file until you present your original documents. [I know! That’s why I want to schedule an appointment!]

So you understand the timeframe [sic], once you have your interview and present your original documents it can 4-8 weeks to get aliyah approval and another 2 weeks to get your aliyah visa before you fly. [Why didn't you tell me that sooner?]

You might have to find a place to stay if you have to move out of your house you sold. [Duh!]

As requested, I sent my “personal Aliyah Coordinator” the contact information I had for the shaliach, assuming she would help me get an appointment. Instead, she simply wrote: “Have you tired [sic] both email and phone number.” Not helpful!

May 2015

I had to move out of my house on May 19th, two months after my phone interview. There was still no word on when I’d get my personal interview. Frightening!

In desperation, I sent one e-mail to everyone I’d ever corresponded with at NBN and The Jewish Agency. As they say, a squeaky wheel gets the grease. The shaliach responded immediately and scheduled my interview. The interview was on June 4, a month later than I'd anticipated when I put my house on the market.

June 2015

I gave the shaliach all my original paperwork and she seemed satisfied. She made more copies of my documents (there must be at least three copies of each document floating around NBN and The Jewish Agency) and told me I’d hear from someone in four to six weeks. She recommended the absorption center in Karmiel.

July 2015

About a month later, someone new, a “pre-aliyah advisor” at NBN, called me. She asked when I’d like to leave for Israel. I asked her when I might get my visa. She said that Nefesh b'Nefesh has a contact in The Jewish Agency who could tell her where in the system my application was. Yay!

I e-mailed her several days later to find out what she had learned from her contact. “We have no way of knowing what is happening within the Jewish Agency unfortunately.” B-b-b-but you said...!

So I’m waiting. Impatiently.

A friend made aliyah four weeks after his interview. It has been almost five weeks since my interview. But if the information my “personal Aliyah Coordinator” gave me is correct, I should receive word that my application has been approved by July 14th and I should receive my visa by August 13th. (Won’t they need my passport before they can issue a visa…?)

So I’m waiting.

I’ve taken time during this hiatus to take a workshop in Washington, visit friends in Quebec and the U.S., I’ve gone kayaking, I've done a lot of hiking, and I’ve discovered hot yoga, but mostly: I’m going stir crazy!

* * *
Addendum: as of July 23, it has been seven weeks since my in-person interview. I should hear something by next week, right?

Jul 30 - eight weeks since my interview (the maximum amount of time, supposedly, to get approval)

Aug 13 - ten weeks since my interview (the maximum amount of time to get approval and an aliyah visa)

August 26 - I emailed my “pre-aliyah advisor" and asked why there seems to be a delay. Her answer doesn't even make sense: “I can find no indication.” Of what? No indication that there's a delay? No indication that I'll ever get a visa? The shaliach said my approval would arrive in four to six weeks! I want to know what's going on. She asked if I had contacted the shaliach. Duh!

September 17 - I finally got a response from someone at the Jewish Agency (by sending everyone an email-- the squeaky wheel again). She has not submitted my application for review!

Three months ago, she and the shaliach both agreed I had submitted ALL necessary documentation. Now she will only submit my application after I give her another document. The document she wants is one I specifically asked about it back in March, the one she said didn't matter!

I have to wait until after the HHDs to get a letter from the local rabbi. Demoralizing and yet... could aliyah be within my reach? Dare I get my hopes up? Too late, my hopes are already up!

September 18 - Wow! Nefesh b'Nefesh does have ONE useful page on its website: a Shipping Guide.

Oct 28 - The story has changed again! I'm furious at the obvious lie!

On September 17, the Jewish Agency representative wrote that she had *not* sent my application in for review because it was missing a document (the one she had said wasn't necessary).

Today, she wrote that she has sent it in for approval *again* and added that she “asked for a rush on it because of your housing situation.” Situation?! This isn't a situation; it's a financial disaster!

Okay. If the information my "personal Aliyah Co-ordinator" gave me is correct, I should get my approval no later than December 23rd.

I keep thinking that no Israeli would have put up with all this nonsense for any length of time! Maybe I don't have the chutzpah to live in Israel.

November 2015 - Tired of homelessness and hoping to find work, I rented an apartment in Tucson and promptly got very, very sick.

December 23 - Nope. My "personal Aliyah Co-ordinator" was wrong. No aliyah approval.

January 29, 2016 - My aliyah approval arrived! Unfortunately, I can't live in an absorption center. One person said it's because I'm over thirty-five another said that it's because I'm American. (Why didn't anyone at the Jewish Agency or Nefesh b'Nefesh know about those restrictions?)

Once I'm healthy again, I will apply for a visa, a process which is supposed to take just two weeks. The visa will be good for six months.

April 1, 2016 - I contacted a Nefesh b'Nefesh rep and begged him for help.

Since I didn't get into the absorption center, how do I find housing while I'm outside of the country? Why does the website's Jerusalem ulpan list only include ulpanim for retirees, religious women, and blind people? Is the shipping company correct; must I purchase a 200-cubic-foot shipping container for ten boxes? The tour guide school listed on the website requires that a non-refundable payment for two year's tuition accompany the application for admission; is this standard practice? Will I apply for medical insurance and aliyah benefits at the airport? What offices will I have to visit (and when) to follow up on medical insurance and aliyah benefits?

April 4, 2016 - The supervisor promised to help and wrote that "your new Aliyah advisor will be assigned to you over the coming days."

April 19, 2016 - I still do not have an Aliyah advisor, so I wrote a nasty note to the supervisor. Hm... may have burned some bridges.  

It would be LAUGHABLE if it weren't so frustrating. It has been two weeks and you have not kept your promise to assign me an aliyah advisor. What a worthless organization you run!

May 24, 2016 - Last week, I contacted someone at NBN to request a seat on the August flight. No response, so I had to resort to another mass email. It turns out that you're required to rent an apartment before you arrive. A few months ago, a NBN "Go North" representative told me I was nuts when I was trying to do that. In any case, don't you think NBN should inform olim of requirements in advance? A friend in Israel told me to use his address, so I did-- but what nonsense!

August 16, 2016 - I received my visa some time ago and, today, applied for the September 21 aliyah flight! I'll get a confirmation letter Friday, August 19th. (I hope.) If not, I'm going to buy my own ticket.

August 18, 2016 - Someone at NBN sent me a "welcome to Nefesh b'Nefesh" letter. What the...?

I'd love to get some of the help she offered, so I emailed her back. Received an automated response that she'll be back in the office on August 22.

August 24, 2016 - I'd been sleepless for several days worried about whether there was a seat for me on the flight. Then I got some news from the people who will be adopting my cat that made my tired mind panic, so I asked the NBN flight advisor not to book me on the flight.

I hadn't heard from NBN, but apparently NBN had booked me on the flight. Yesterday, they took me off the flight-- at my request and, thankfully, did not fine me $2,000.

E-mailed her back today, said all was well, and asked if there were still seats on the flight.

August 28, 2016 - The flight advisor contacted me. She won't put me on a flight because she thinks the address of my friend's apartment is a hotel. (My friend disagrees.) She told me to contact the "welcome letter woman" when I have housing plans.

So I did contact that woman. I mentioned that I might buy my own ticket. She wrote I shouldn't do that (but didn't explain why not). She's going to call tomorrow to help me.

August 29, 2016 - This is her idea of help? She didn't call; she sent an email today and suggested, that if I buy my own ticket, I should then come back to North America and take a subsidized aliyah flight.

Am I made of money? The goal is to get there! I wonder if NBN gets paid to fill aliyah flights?

We exchanged some more e-mails today. She is going "to look into this" for me and confirm that my friend's apartment is not a hotel. I hope!

September 3, 2016 - 5 days later... did I actually believe that someone at NBN was going to help me? Will I never learn?

I've been talking to strangers online and now I have a list of the offices to visit in Israel, but also a general consensus that I shouldn't do it alone. I also learned that not all absorption centers turn away folks over 35, so I've requested a call from the Jewish Agency to see if I can get into one. (Surely NBN can't say that an absorption center isn't a "solid housing plan.")

September 4, 2016 -  What a pleasant shock! The lady at NBN emailed me today! She had kept her promise to look into my friend's address! What have I done to deserve such excellent service? (That's sarcasm, by the way.)

But she couldn't simply say "you were right and we were wrong." She sent this:

We appreciate you sending the address of your friend. Once we receive an email from him confirming that you may stay at his place upon arrival, we will expedite booking of your flight.

New requirements, just for me! Ha ha! My friend e-mailed her immediately, so all should be well.

Back atcha'

I've never understood why introverts are maligned and completely misunderstood.

What if we misrepresented who extroverts are? It would be easy enough to assert the following things about extroverts:

• Extroverts crave attention and only shout, "I love you all" when they enter a room because they want to be the center of attention. 
• Extroverts prefer flitting around a large group of people because in those situations they can avoid meaningful interactions that might require giving another human being a little of their time. 
• Extroverts force their opinions on others, and won't explore ideas with anyone else.
• Extroverts resent introverts when we won't submit to having the life sucked out of us. 
• Extroverts are shallow and insincere. And loud.

Now that my petty desire to turn the tables on extroverts has been satisfied, here's what introversion and extroversion are really about. Apparently, humanity needs both types.

"There is zero correlation between being the best talker and having the best ideas." 

- Susan Cain, The Power of Introverts

I Planted Tomatoes in Montréal!

The Magical Home was the theme of a magazine I read on the flight from Connecticut to Montréal. In one column, the writer* describes Hestia, goddess of the hearth, in a way I’d never considered.

I will tell you the truth about Hestia: She is dangerous to the Patriarchy, to capitalism, to the industrial rape of the world. She is a Goddess fomenting a revolution; and devotion to Her can be an act of radical politics.

The writer asserts that, although our culture has consigned Hestia to the kitchen and to silence, Hestia’s realm actually extends beyond house and garden. According to her, Hestia is a goddess of the larger places we inhabit. She is the heart of each of those places and she cultivates the web of relationships that constitutes them.

Enormous horticultural sculpture, 
at the Montréal Botanical Gardens (in 2013)

If you believe that home means more than a single-family dwelling, your homemaking will naturally have a broader impact. Hestia could inspire people to know and take care of their neighborhoods and the beings that inhabit them—people, animals, plants, rivers… 

Hestia’s devotees talk to their neighbors, buy their food from local farmers, lobby for clean water and affordable housing, protest injustice even when the cops wear armor, rescue animals, and stand up for the “underprivileged.” They value the place in which they live; they value all the beings that dwell there.

Patriarchy can’t have that; it needs us to be interchangeable cogs: willing to move anywhere for a better job, a new job, or, more and more these days, any job. It prefers us to be fungible and to regard one home as just as good as another. But Hestia says, “Your place matters. Your local relationships matter. You are not fungible; your place is not fungible; the home of your heart is important.”

The writer rejects the image of Hestia as a “retiring maiden quietly tending the home fires.” I thought Hestia’s empowerment evaporated outside the walls of her home. While she might step outside her house for a brief venture into quiet, rural community, I couldn’t imagine her thriving in the bewildering chaos of a city, a place that exemplifies alienation.

Hestia needs to be present, centered, and in relationship. In cities, the pace of existence has accelerated to suit business. The ways people relate to each other have been diminished and warped. Concrete covers land where forests once grew or herds of animals once roamed, and enough concrete can even change weather patterns. Indoor woman though she is, being totally cut off from nature would damage Hestia.

While the column was interesting, I couldn’t imagine Hestia as a goddess of a city until I visited Montréal two weeks ago.

My second night in Montréal, my friends took me to the top of Mont Royal to admire the view. The lights and the river were beautiful, but not what I’d expected. Without thinking, I exclaimed, “It’s not a city, it’s a place!” It wasn’t a meaningless statement; the expanse of lights below seemed warm and gentle rather than impressive and alienating.

My friend and me by the St. Lawrence River near Old Montréal,
photo by Pierre Ouimet (June 2015)

Perhaps I perceived Montréal that way because I had already met the city, down there, close up. Pierre and Céline had introduced me to some of Montréal’s people and communities, landmarks, neighborhoods… and locally brewed beers. (I recommend the bière pamplemousse.) My friends are socially conscious and sociable, so I had seen Montréal in the best light.

My memories of wonderful days there are somewhat jumbled. In no particular order, I’ll describe a few of them.

You meet friends on the street. That morning, we had walked from their apartment to their community garden. In just a couple of blocks, they had greeted and stopped to chat with half a dozen people they knew. (In my small town, my friends and I have wondered why we never run into people we know when we're out and about.)

The city is child-friendly and tree-friendly. There were parks everywhere and children playing in them! On weekdays, people were relaxing and enjoying each other’s company on expanses of green. There was a lot of music, too. We walked through Old Montréal and along the river. The metro conveniently transported us to various parts of the city.

Residents transform the city with horticulture. Another morning, Céline took me through alleys that people have turned into gardens and we planted tomatoes between a sidewalk and a curb. There’s also a farmers’ market, Marche Jean Talon, which is a dedicated space, not simply a parking lot where a few stalls are thrown up a few hours each weekend.

My friend on his balcony in La Petite-Patrie

Old villages have become pleasant neighborhoods within the city. My friends live in Rosemont–La Petite-Patrie, the cutest neighborhood in the world, except perhaps for a few others in Montréal. In Père-Marquette, their neighborhood park, children and adults play baseball and soccer, and have picnics. (Drinking is allowed in Montreal’s parks just as long as it accompanies a meal.)

Old structures from the Olympics and the World’s Fair have been “repurposed,” not simply allowed to decay. The Olympic velodrome was transformed into the Montréal Biodome where visitors can explore miniature replicas of four ecosystems found in North America. An old overpass has become a garden. 

La cathédrale verte

Car sharing services are sensible and there is bike sharing, too. My friends pay a membership fee, reserve a car as needed, and pick it up at a small parking area or on the street; they pay for mileage and are charged extra if they return it late. They mostly walk, reducing potential pollution; the city does not need to build huge, concrete garages; and they don’t have the numerous expenses associated with owning a car.

My friends and their friends are politically aware and their work benefits the community. We sampled beers and socialized at Le Village and visited Foundation Emergence, where Pierre contributes his photography skills to the LGBT community. Céline is on a number of committees including the community garden. We met Céline’s coworkers at a café; they help civic associations work with the government. In Québec, people are aware of the First Nations that preceded them and that still exist beside Anglophone and Francophone communities. French speakers are aware of their own unique culture and strive to preserve it in the face of Anglophone repression.

Piano in front of a church;
the wild knitters had been there first

Pianos are left on the street. Murals cover blank walls. Instead of graffiti artists, there are wild knitters. I could spend all my free time in the public library… well, if I could read French. And I believe that we visited the first North American kitty café; the cats were so cute that the owners really didn’t need to serve gourmet food, but they did. Je suis pâte de fois gras.

Hospitality is alive and well. Their hospitality was immense. Being a guest usually means walking on eggshells. Not in Pierre and Céline’s home! I stomped around their living room, assaulted their kitties (with love, of course), tossed the contents of my suitcase carelessly on the floor of the guest room, and generally felt at home. They actually wanted me in their home and insisted I extend my stay. 

Cats in a wine crate at Café Chat l'heureux

Pierre made a point of taking me to places he knew I’d like: Schwartz’s Charcuterie Hébraïque and Chat L’Heureux, the kitty café. And god forbid their guest should get wet in the rain, so after our trip to Mont-Royal, Céline dropped us off, then returned the car and walked home alone in the rain. 

The food, mmm—and the very best of it was the meal they made in their kitchen my last night, served with a bottle of fine wine. The perfect ending to my trip was our relaxing stroll through La Petite-Patrie just after sunset.

Mes hôtes fabuleux!

People like Pierre and Céline make Montréal a place that is better than a city. They love the place they live and make it a home.

Monsieur Coco sur la terrasse

To honor Hestia is to actually inhabit the space where you live. Her worship comes from time spent knowing a place and repeating the simple actions of kindling and smooring the fire, caring for the land, being in right relationship with the powers, and spirits, and beings with whom you make your home.

The hospitality of my friends and the atmosphere of Montréal allowed me to be open and present to the environment around me. Every experience was a pleasure, but there was one in particular that was remarkable: 

A string quartet by the roses at the Montréal Botanical Gardens, photo by Pierre Ouimet

In one part of the Jardins Botanique, the fragrance of roses and the music of a string quartet… was too much beauty at one time… All I could do was stand there and let the intensity of the moment fill me and wash over me. I could not have explained what was happening to me and I still don’t know. “You are tripping!” Pierre said, and that’s a better description of the experience than I can come up with. 

(You must visit the botanical gardens-- so many different gardens and exhibits to explore!)

The place where you are standing is holy. The Place, HaMakom, is one of god’s names. Montréal is a place to experience the holy and the everyday. In Montréal, retiring Hestia types could thrive outside the safety of their four walls and contribute to the well being of all.

Note: I called Pierre and Céline a few days ago. They were busy helping their neighborhood association move to a new office. It figures.

* Hecate Demetersdatter in Witches & Pagans