Snow and Holy Days
Misha aka The Other Dog out in the snow.
I took the dogs out early yesterday evening, and
something that looked like miniature snowballs fell on us. Not tightly
packed, just tiny fluffy snowballs. It was rather pleasant.
When I got off the puter in the wee morning hours,
complex matrices of enormous flakes were drifting down out of the sky,
and quite an accumulation covered the ground. The first real snow
of the winter, and winter is technically over. So far we'd had two
light dustings that had melted before morning was half gone.
So, no church again today, but yet again, I had
my dose of God via Friday night Shabbos services. This time, what
moved me into gear was "Shabbat Across America," an event sponsored
by a partnership of synagogues across the continent, the point being, whoever
you are, wherever you are, go to the nearest shul and check em out.
So we did, armed with an email saying that glbt (gay/lesbian/bi/trans)
folks are often welcome at Reconstructionist temples. We went to
the one on the other side of Laurel, one that we hadn't been to before
and hadn't planned on investigating since we were unfamiliar with Reconstructionists
and are probably going to move to Jersey soon anyway, making getting chummy
counterproductive.
The rain was pounding down as we drew near.
The building is topped by a dome that is reminiscent of a giant yarmulke
(in case you don't know, the little cap Jews wear) and the exterior lighting
was dramatic. I was intimidated, but we went on in anyway, greeted
by the strumming of guitar and melodious voices.
Instrument playing on Shabbos surprised me a bit,
but just a bit, cuz that shul down in Vicksburg had an organ and that was
a bit more shocking than this. All in all the service was very pleasant,
though only a few of the melodies were familiar. There were a couple
classes of local highschoolers on a field trip, some taking notes furiously
during the service. Moomie had fallen asleep in the van and not awakened,
but Boober was rambunctious, though nobody seemed to hold that against
us, and some even graced him with smiles and giggles. There were
no other small children present, which the cantor later theorized had to
do probably with the rain. What relieved me most probably was that
nobody gave me any nasty looks for being a woman who dares to wear a yarmulke.
Traditionally this is a big no-no but the feminist movement has made great
strides, yet there probably will never be a day when any woman can wear
one anywhere and not get flak. True, I was one of only two women
thusly headgeared, and the other was the student rabbi, but that's tons
better than some of the cold vibes I've gotten elsewhere.
I felt uplifted and refreshed, such a striking opposite
to the hell that preceded the trip, but I don't wanna talk about that.
I was never late before getting married, and it's important to me to try
to enter a state of peace with a coming holy day, and since I was foiled
on both counts, it was a sour time best left alone.
Yesterday was a nothing day. We did nothing
of real importance. the HuzBend and Moomie put out some grass seed.
The boys played while the spouse and I took turns between reading and using
the computer. I had a few meetings to be at in VR, and a few obligations
to wrap up, must mostly we just screwed around, and it felt great.
I seldom get to do that anymore.
A sizable chunk of today was wasted thanks to an
enormous migraine. I lay on the bed with a pillow around my head,
under the comforter, moaning every time one of the kids jiggled the bed.
A nasty case of nausea came with it, as usual. I really gotta get
some of that medicine that works for migraines in progress, an almost unheard-of
development.
The past few days have been very reminiscent of
the period that came before marriage counseling. So much for great
change. My unhappiness with the status quo is probably what's behind
the migraine. But Alan, over at heinovision,
says:
there is a simple, grim, austere beauty just in the fact of
being alive, no matter how painful your life is. all the peripheral issues
aside -- and virtually all of them are peripheral, by definition -- there
is a certain biological drama to simply existing, maybe a primordial rush
stemming from the sheer fact of being around to contemplate the continued
presence of your own DNA.
no matter how ridiculous or awful your life is, it's your life.
Thank you, Alan. I used to remember the love of
life itself; I had forgotten.
link o' the day:
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