Lessons From My Birthday

It was an unusual day as I did't really prepare for anything special.  I've spent the last few months trying to bring new perspectives to my usual routines.  I love to celebrate my birthday but not the way you think.  Our society puts extraordinary pressure on us to have the best birthday ever, receive the greatest and most thoughtful gifts from our loved ones.  And what if we don't? Does it mean that we are less loved when the new jewelry doesn't come, does it mean that I'm not appreciated because I'm not showered with boxes and bows? IT DOES NOT!  My husband and I made a decision a long time ago that our gifts to each other were to be meaningful to us.  Gift giving manufactured by commercialism always ended up with all of us frustrated and disappointed.  Not a good way to spend a birthday, valentines day or anniversary.

So what was different this birthday?  We began a few days before celebrating with our family at a lovely lunch.  The real gift in that is seeing my entire family all around  one table at the same time.  With such a small family, that was truly a gift that I appreciated.  That same night, our daughter cooked us a beautiful Valentines Dinner that gave us a real date night even in our home.  Cooking for us and giving us the opportunity for some real conversation was an incredible gift worth more than any jewelry or anything else shiny.

The actual day of my birthday was filled with phone calls, Facebook messages, LinkedIn messages, texts, and emails.  Rather than take the day off, I worked and received beautiful smiles and birthday wishes from my colleagues and a nice lunch with my boss.

This year, while driving to work, my mind started to wander about the actual day I was born.  Being a mother, I knew the experience of having a child, but I never really thought about the day I was born and being that newborn.  I smiled at the thought of my own arrival - in the years I was born, mothers were asleep during the birth and my mother was. My dad enjoyed his dinner at a restaurant nearby while his sleeping wife produced his new daughter.  My smiles continued as I thought about the friends that surrounded my parents on that day, and still surround us today.  Images of my mother waking up and seeing me for the first time really moved me. My mother and I share a wonderful relationship and talk about parenting often, but for those few minutes, I was imagining my mom for the first time as that new mom, giddy with joy like the day her grandkids were born.  Now my dad passed away six years again, so thinking of him as a young father returning to the hospital from his dinner to find out that he had a new daughter made me laugh. Maybe he got back in time, but he was in the waiting room, not in the room.  Like the movies, I believe he saw me for the firs time through the glass window in the nursery. And I know that my dad loved being a dad, so I know that when he finally met me, he had that big smile on this face and that put a big smile on my face.  

I had never thought about the day I was born in this way.  This was the gift I gave myself this year and it brought me great joy.

Lessons from Meditation February 6 2016

For a variety of reasons, I have not blogged in a long time.  Time escapes me and days turn into weeks and weeks into months.  And here we are February 2016 and I begin again.  A few weeks ago, I felt the pull to attend daily minyan.  Timing worked in my schedule, so I showed up one morning.  Of course, as a non-regular in daily minyan, my Rabbi thought I was there to observe a yahrzeit (anniversary of a loved one's death, usually a parent).  I told him that it was not the reason but rather I was feeling a bit lost. It felt good to be there - I felt centered and emotional at the same time.  

It's the next day, I am able to go again.  Same as the day before, I walk in and am moved by the commitment of the regulars to fulfill the daily rituals, wrapping tefillin, praying in concert and standing together as a community.  I used to feel uncomfortable in this setting, but on this day, I feel it is where I belong.  I pray a little, meditate a little and just listen to the others as their voiced prayers hum in my ears.  It is a beautiful way to start my day.  Morning minyan ends and I'm am off to work feeling better, calmer, belonging.

It's a new day and I find myself able to go again.  It is now my third day and I'm feeling more comfortable among the regulars and my meditation is nurtured by the energy of prayer that is all around me.  I open the prayer book and find a passage that I had seen the day before.  Psalm 118.  A particular verse sticks with me - 

The Stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.

אֶבֶן, מָאֲסוּ הַבּוֹנִים-  הָיְתָה, לְרֹאשׁ פִּנָּה

Following the morning minyan, I am talking to the Rabbis about how I wound up in minyan.  My only response is that I needed to be there.  One of the Rabbis asks me what I got from the service.  At first, I am taken by the question until I quote the only passage that echoes in my mind - Psalm 118, verse 22.  

A month later, I am preparing to lead meditation and find Rabbi Shefa Gold chant to the exact verse.  I must learn it so I can teach it.  I couldn't turn away.  I study the chant for 3 days in hopes of being able to teach it to begin the meditation. It is so beautiful and I am struck again that these words and now music have made such an impact on me.  Rabbi Shefa Gold's chant Psalm 118 verse 22

Saturday arrives and I'm ready for meditation.  I'm a little nervous and excited at the same time and I walk into meditation knowing that I have written a meditation that is truly meaningful to me. 

Meditation Plus - February 6, 2016

Temple Beth Am

Let’s begin. Take a few centering breaths. 

Ground your feet, open your palms, sit up and shake out your shoulders. 

Take a few more centering breaths.

Within the past few weeks, I found myself needing to attend morning minyan.  Words and phrases connected to morning echoed in my mind. 

Wake up. Get up.  Rise up. 

Wake up. Get up. Rise up. 

So one day, I woke up, got up and went to minyan. 

I can follow along Hebrew, but have never wrapped tefillin and still I needed to be there.

As I enter, I see people wrapped in tefillin, I hear praying that sounds more like humming than singing, and a group of people deeply connected to something greater than themselves.

I find a seat, grab a book and look for the prayer that I hear as a beautiful rhythmic hum.

I feel centered. I feel emotional.  If your hands are open, think of each word in the palm of your hand. 

I am centered and emotional.

Feel both at the same time. 

Think of two words that you have felt in conflict – sadness and joy, love and distrust, anxiety and freedom. 

Hold them in your hands and breath. 

The Stone the builders rejected

has become the cornerstone

When I saw this verse from Psalm 118, I was struck.

At that moment I felt rejected and strong. 

I was alone and felt comfort in my community. 

I was that stone that became the cornerstone. 

I am the stone that becomes the cornerstone. 

As we go into silent meditation, I invite you to think about your strength as the cornerstone in different areas of your life. 

Rabbi Shefa Gold says, “This is a practice of identifying that “stone”- the part of us that has been pushed aside, devalued, maligned or rejected ... and then raising that part up as the gift that I might reclaim and refine.”

We will sit for 10 minutes in silence and then begin text study. 

Thank you Rabbi Shefa Gold for your beautiful chant, your teachings and guidance.  Thank you Rabbi Ruth Sohn for your confidence and encouragement.  Thank you Deb Schmidt for your partnership.  And thank you to Temple Beth Am's Daily Minyan for your inspiration and community.