Help me get clear about this: am I total failure? Or just a partial failure? It’s one thing when you start out strong and eventually run out of steam. But this year I started out super late the first night, already empty, tired, with only my aspirations for a meaningful daily Omer writing practice on the fumes of resolve. Counting even with the blessing is something I have managed to do each night, and maybe I should celebrate that accomplishment for its own merit. Instead, I berate myself for failing to fulfill my promise to write and post each night the OOCC. On the topic of that internal critic, I’m realizing the irony of choosing the topic “Counting to Clarity” when at times I can barely form sentences and often I just want to be quiet.
When a friend noticed that I had lost some weight a few months back I acknowledged it saying “finally my body is starting to come back, and depending on if I use actual pre-pregnancy weight or my during fertility treatment weight, I only have 30-40 more pounds to go”. That’s how I see it- how far I am from my goal, from looking and God willing feeling, like myself. The subtlety there is that from the inside I am forever changed and the larger sizes and overstretched skin doesn’t even begin to reveal the story.
For months I could tell you I have thirty more pounds to lose to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight, and the last time I was pregnant was over 2 ½ (or now closer to 3) years ago. And you might think, my goodness, isn’t that a lot? Many women don’t even gain that much weight for the pregnancy, much less take three years to lose it. Or maybe you would be more compassionate and understanding about the way that pregnancy totally changes a body physically and chemically, how there is no time to care for yourself with a newborn or toddler, how most new mothers struggle with self care and losing weight they have gained while expecting or even after baby comes home.
But then that friend turned the tables and asked how much I’d lost. It sounded so much different when I heard myself say that I’d lost seventy pounds. That is huge. How big I was loomed even bigger when I pictured dropping that much weight. The remaining fraction seemed smaller and less significant compared to the majority of pounds that were already behind me. I still had thirty more to go to the number on my driver’s license (130), though in reality I used to be 135, and after bloating from months of fertility treatments I was 145 before finally getting that BFP (big fat positive)! As an act of motherly love, as all mothers do, I sacrificed my body for my babies. Following expert advice I gained a ton of weight for the sake of my triplets. 235 was where I stopped counting, having gained over one hundred pounds.
And now I’ve lost seventy-seven pounds and don’t want to take credit for it as an accomplishment. It feels more like something that just happened, thankfully, luckily, blessedly. As deliberately as I wanted to get pregnant and then to gain lots of weight for my extreme pregnancy, I have no idea why getting pregnant with good old S-E-X didn’t work for us, nor do I know why it took so long to lose weight, or why it finally started happening. From the doctor’s office I updated facebook with my happy news (down seven more for a total of seventy-seven pounds gone!) and love that friends are celebrating with me. Alongside the congratulatory comments (to which I still want to say “but there’s still 23 lbs more!”) are questions about my secret to weight loss.
The secret revealed to me today is the importance of celebrating and sharing our celebratory moments. Just as for sure I have shared my pain and insanity, I have tried to share my sweetness, joy and laughter. I absolutely love that people feel healing from seeing pictures and videos and status updates from the triplet toddler show that is my life. That sharing has been deliberate, and I revel in my girls. Celebrating them is not the same as appreciating myself, and that is a challenge for me. Though clarity itself still seems far away, I am counting on its eventual arrival and will do my part by trying to replace negative perception with positive self -commentary. As certain as tonight is the tenth night of the Omer, I have succeeded in counting each night this year, and tonight I am contributing to OOCC. As of today, I am seventy-seven pounds lighter than I was in June 2008, and today I celebrate my success. Today I seek healing for myself and offer my story for service.
For your comments:
What are you celebrating? What success can we celebrate with you?
Showing posts with label clarity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clarity. Show all posts
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Nearly blew it before it began
I nearly blew it. Close to midnight, moments after zipping and locking up the little girls (triplets under 3 years old up way too late for the second night in a row) in their portable tent beds (we highly recommend the Peapod) I suddenly whispered to my closed-eyed husband. Startling him out of falling asleep in the hotel bed, I quietly recited the bracha and counted the first night of the Omer. After almost completely forgetting, I wanted a witness, though not too reliable in his slumber, to hear me announce the first night.
(The girls are excited to ride the hotel luggage cart, which they call "shopping cart", and to stay up super late for Passover Seders.)
It's usually counted at the Seder table, that is if you actually do the whole Seder from start to finish. There were young adult years when Seders were that generous luxurious time for exploration and late night singing of that last "next year in Jerusalem." But not here, our Seder order ended with the festive meal, as many families do from lack of interest in the whole exacting deal. Seder actually means "order" and there are 14 steps this at home table ritual. Full of symbolism, interesting objects and foods, the telling of the Haggadah includes stories, laws and songs all intended to elicit discussion. Even guised as "traditional" and viewed by attendees as way too long, these Seders did not complete the order nor fulfill it in more than the most basic reading. Not to say that it wasn't a great way to connect with family nor anything but an amazing feat of a feast. The meal was delicious and the sixty plus family members were wonderful company. The children demonstrated their beautiful singing voices, showed off their day school education in Hebrew fluency and song familiarity and were adorable - including my 2 year olds who each sang the beginning of Ma Nishtana. The Passover production was impressive for its scale, efficacy, beauty and carrying out of traditions. That said, of the four cups, we only poured two. Elijah and Miriam were both ignored, and I felt their absence. And of other steps skipped, we neglected to count the Omer.
I married into a large family that actually has a family club that meets monthly and for annual events in the Detroit suburbs where most still reside. They have enormous pots and pans for mass cooking and everything else needed to make a special and elegant holiday. The aunt and uncle who host Passover actually built their house to accomodate the huge crowd. The Seder takes place in the elegant living room, that more resembles a hotel lobby. Coming from my own family with our own (different) traditions and as a rabbi who has thought lots about my ideal Seder experience (and led some good ones), I can offer a commentary full of compliments and constructive criticism, but for tonight my only comment is this. We didn't count the Omer. How many of you counted the Omer together at Seder last night?
To be fair to the leader, I myself didn't even think about completing the Seder. I was too busy trying to catch up with the cousins and listen out for cries of my children, the new inductees to the basement mayhem.
So tired from the cleaning and kashering and cooking and setting and serving, sometime we lose sight of the spiritual cycle. The big day takes so much out of us, we totally or nearly forget that it is a kick off event, not the end itself. Just like wedding planning it consumes as much time as the engagement allows, preparing for the relationship of marriage is usually neglected. Immersing in the preparation is its own process, and also part of a bigger picture. Pause for an aha moment - that's the story of my with baby triplets. Diapering, feeding, cleaning, dressing the children - it doesn't leave freedom to think, to read, to evaluate. I suppose no matter how little prep we do, those next stages will arrive (God willing) for us to find ourselves in bed counting the Omer seconds before sleep - or having that intimate conversation - or envisioning the children with their own families.
The girls were so wired even at midnight that after jumping on the bed and running around the room I just forced them into their Peapods and locked the zipper (with twist ties - did I ever tell you how they trashed the hotel room in Memphis?) Efforts at crying lasted less then thirty seconds, then they were too tired to try. One second of silence was followed by a wimper from E, then came 2 seconds of silence. I was counting the space in between the crying when I realized that I hadn't counted the first night of the Omer!
More than just counting, before we actually count the day of the Omer (out of 49, listed by days and weeks), we say a bracha (blessing). If you remember to count the Omer at night (when the "day" begins on Jewish time) you begin with the blessing. If you don't count until the next day, then you can't say the blessing. Admittedly I'll be happy if I count to 49 night or day, though I'd love to get all the blessings in. Blessings are special, they are blessings after all.
Tonight I said the bracha in the dark somewhere between Detroit and Chicago, using Omer Counter 2.0 on my iPhone. By then I was sitting in the way back, between Haley and N. One girl wanted me to help her sleep and the other needed me once she awoke.
Earlier in the ride it had been really quiet. I had nothing more to say to the driver and I realized that it was a good time for a talk with myself. I led myself in a little internal Seder of my own. I started with some venting, then went a bit deeper into a section that regrettably was edited out of our Seders, before I bored myself and was ready to eat some chocolate. The Four Children is a section of the telling that I've always loved in text and through numerous artistic depictions. There are four archetypes of children that can be seen as four different types of religious experience, four learning styles, four personalities, or four family roles. In discussing them we try to identify ourselves and get to hear our families thoughts about our self perception. I love that the archetype with which we identify most can change from year to year. I have been the Hacham, the wise child, immersed in Torah Study, fascinated with laws and traditions. I have been the Rasha in more recent years; the one who feels apart from tradition and questions the value of organized religion. For me being the Rasha was questioning faith or feeling mired in struggle without relief that. The all consuming life changing triplet pregnancy and parenthood also casts me as the Tam, the simple one who doesn't know what to ask - or who is indifferent to the answer. Sometimes the thread holding us in the tribe is very thin.
My realization tonight is that this year I relate to the One Who Cannot Ask. In some ways I've lost my voice. Different than when I was younger and learned how my voice had been taken away, then worked on taking it back, now something different is happening. I'm not clear on it all yet, which I remind myself is why the theme of the Omer is "Counting to Clarity". There's no Haggadah that tells me what I'm supposed to say to the world, no written curriculum for my spiritual development and no job description that's a role written for me. I know who I am and, at the same time, I don't know. I don't know what is to come and where I should be so vocal, or where I should listen for guidance. I'm not clear how to let spirit guide me and also act responsibly to my family's financial needs. I am both articulate and also inarticulate. I am both gifted with unique talents and expertise and also need variety and flexibility. I both want to honor what I'm meant to bring to the world and also have some balance and enjoyment. I am both clear about what I stand for and unclear about where my next step will lead.
Thankfully, I have this counting and the season that leads to clarity. One day at at time, I will bless the path from narrowly defined dark enslaved places to the free and clear and bright illuminated destination.
Tonight/today is the second day of the Omer.
For you: what was missing from your Seder experience that you want to include in your self-led Seder? What traditions/patterns in your life work? which don't work for you?
(The girls are excited to ride the hotel luggage cart, which they call "shopping cart", and to stay up super late for Passover Seders.)
It's usually counted at the Seder table, that is if you actually do the whole Seder from start to finish. There were young adult years when Seders were that generous luxurious time for exploration and late night singing of that last "next year in Jerusalem." But not here, our Seder order ended with the festive meal, as many families do from lack of interest in the whole exacting deal. Seder actually means "order" and there are 14 steps this at home table ritual. Full of symbolism, interesting objects and foods, the telling of the Haggadah includes stories, laws and songs all intended to elicit discussion. Even guised as "traditional" and viewed by attendees as way too long, these Seders did not complete the order nor fulfill it in more than the most basic reading. Not to say that it wasn't a great way to connect with family nor anything but an amazing feat of a feast. The meal was delicious and the sixty plus family members were wonderful company. The children demonstrated their beautiful singing voices, showed off their day school education in Hebrew fluency and song familiarity and were adorable - including my 2 year olds who each sang the beginning of Ma Nishtana. The Passover production was impressive for its scale, efficacy, beauty and carrying out of traditions. That said, of the four cups, we only poured two. Elijah and Miriam were both ignored, and I felt their absence. And of other steps skipped, we neglected to count the Omer.
I married into a large family that actually has a family club that meets monthly and for annual events in the Detroit suburbs where most still reside. They have enormous pots and pans for mass cooking and everything else needed to make a special and elegant holiday. The aunt and uncle who host Passover actually built their house to accomodate the huge crowd. The Seder takes place in the elegant living room, that more resembles a hotel lobby. Coming from my own family with our own (different) traditions and as a rabbi who has thought lots about my ideal Seder experience (and led some good ones), I can offer a commentary full of compliments and constructive criticism, but for tonight my only comment is this. We didn't count the Omer. How many of you counted the Omer together at Seder last night?
To be fair to the leader, I myself didn't even think about completing the Seder. I was too busy trying to catch up with the cousins and listen out for cries of my children, the new inductees to the basement mayhem.
So tired from the cleaning and kashering and cooking and setting and serving, sometime we lose sight of the spiritual cycle. The big day takes so much out of us, we totally or nearly forget that it is a kick off event, not the end itself. Just like wedding planning it consumes as much time as the engagement allows, preparing for the relationship of marriage is usually neglected. Immersing in the preparation is its own process, and also part of a bigger picture. Pause for an aha moment - that's the story of my with baby triplets. Diapering, feeding, cleaning, dressing the children - it doesn't leave freedom to think, to read, to evaluate. I suppose no matter how little prep we do, those next stages will arrive (God willing) for us to find ourselves in bed counting the Omer seconds before sleep - or having that intimate conversation - or envisioning the children with their own families.
The girls were so wired even at midnight that after jumping on the bed and running around the room I just forced them into their Peapods and locked the zipper (with twist ties - did I ever tell you how they trashed the hotel room in Memphis?) Efforts at crying lasted less then thirty seconds, then they were too tired to try. One second of silence was followed by a wimper from E, then came 2 seconds of silence. I was counting the space in between the crying when I realized that I hadn't counted the first night of the Omer!
More than just counting, before we actually count the day of the Omer (out of 49, listed by days and weeks), we say a bracha (blessing). If you remember to count the Omer at night (when the "day" begins on Jewish time) you begin with the blessing. If you don't count until the next day, then you can't say the blessing. Admittedly I'll be happy if I count to 49 night or day, though I'd love to get all the blessings in. Blessings are special, they are blessings after all.
Tonight I said the bracha in the dark somewhere between Detroit and Chicago, using Omer Counter 2.0 on my iPhone. By then I was sitting in the way back, between Haley and N. One girl wanted me to help her sleep and the other needed me once she awoke.
Earlier in the ride it had been really quiet. I had nothing more to say to the driver and I realized that it was a good time for a talk with myself. I led myself in a little internal Seder of my own. I started with some venting, then went a bit deeper into a section that regrettably was edited out of our Seders, before I bored myself and was ready to eat some chocolate. The Four Children is a section of the telling that I've always loved in text and through numerous artistic depictions. There are four archetypes of children that can be seen as four different types of religious experience, four learning styles, four personalities, or four family roles. In discussing them we try to identify ourselves and get to hear our families thoughts about our self perception. I love that the archetype with which we identify most can change from year to year. I have been the Hacham, the wise child, immersed in Torah Study, fascinated with laws and traditions. I have been the Rasha in more recent years; the one who feels apart from tradition and questions the value of organized religion. For me being the Rasha was questioning faith or feeling mired in struggle without relief that. The all consuming life changing triplet pregnancy and parenthood also casts me as the Tam, the simple one who doesn't know what to ask - or who is indifferent to the answer. Sometimes the thread holding us in the tribe is very thin.
My realization tonight is that this year I relate to the One Who Cannot Ask. In some ways I've lost my voice. Different than when I was younger and learned how my voice had been taken away, then worked on taking it back, now something different is happening. I'm not clear on it all yet, which I remind myself is why the theme of the Omer is "Counting to Clarity". There's no Haggadah that tells me what I'm supposed to say to the world, no written curriculum for my spiritual development and no job description that's a role written for me. I know who I am and, at the same time, I don't know. I don't know what is to come and where I should be so vocal, or where I should listen for guidance. I'm not clear how to let spirit guide me and also act responsibly to my family's financial needs. I am both articulate and also inarticulate. I am both gifted with unique talents and expertise and also need variety and flexibility. I both want to honor what I'm meant to bring to the world and also have some balance and enjoyment. I am both clear about what I stand for and unclear about where my next step will lead.
Thankfully, I have this counting and the season that leads to clarity. One day at at time, I will bless the path from narrowly defined dark enslaved places to the free and clear and bright illuminated destination.
Tonight/today is the second day of the Omer.
For you: what was missing from your Seder experience that you want to include in your self-led Seder? What traditions/patterns in your life work? which don't work for you?
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Counting to Clarity (for Tues pm April 19)
The counting begins on the second night of Passover, usually at the Seder itself. I won't post on the holiday days or on Shabbat, so for those days I will (do my best to) write in advance.
Counting to Clarity
My mind starts spinning when I think about Passover’s past and all the momentous moments marked in my life by this holiday. When I steady myself I realize I’ve been hit with a ton of awareness. It’s like Passover itself is a psycho-spiritual reality show and I am the contestants and viewers all.
Senior year of High School Passover arrived right after my Dad became paralyzed and we had Seder in the hospital; it was far from the idyllic feast from years past. Here’s where everything exploded. I encountered existential pain and confusion, and said goodbye to the illusion of coming from a “normal” family. On my own as never before while my mom cared for my dad, without advanced coping skills, I found myself lost. Trauma set off a serious need for re-ordering life that would take years to unfold – and some self medicating to deal until I found the help I needed. Freshman year of college I fell deeper into stuffing my feelings with food and then started to see how I had been compulsively overeating to blur my feelings. My first clean days were during Passover. The religious focus on food was a nice excuse for changing habits. Beyond avoiding chametz, I delved into self awareness, seeking, searching, listening, learning, reading, writing, working it out. For me Passover is my birthday, the anniversary of setting out on my soul’s path of healing.
In the metaphor that life is a spiral, I have a seam at Passover. Year to year, as time spirals onward, Passover bleeps loud and a line of serious life changing events forms. The rest of the year between, I submerge back into cloudiness, unaware even that I’m anticipating a certain surge of soul development. Not that I’m completely blurry at all other times, but markedly less aware of the change that is brewing.
The season stirs up the soul cycle. Spring-into-summer sun light shines first gently then bright, as opposed to the cloud cover and short dark days of winter. The spiritual cycle known as the dark night of the soul demonstrates that our soul lives can go underground to an obscure, opaque place where we can’t perceive them; that is the dark night. When dawn comes, our spiritual journey comes into our sight line again. My soul cycle seems to match the Jewish calendar’s Omer counting that begins with Pesach.
Passover is only the beginning, the first steps out of the darkness. The Omer is seven sets of seven days, each one leading toward the ultimate illumination – revelation itself. Just the act of counting each day, remembering to do this practice for seven weeks is a spiritual practice of building awareness. As we count, the days lengthen,, the buds turn to flowers, the world becomes green and sunny. We take account of what we see, hear, smell, touch, think, feel, sense. We begin to notice desire and direction. With each counting blessing we acknowledge: today is a day, with its own character, its own significance, its own teachers and lessons, gifts and challenges. Today we are one day closer to strength, freedom and clarity. Today we remember years past when clarity emerged out of the clouds.
This Omer season is devoted to counting towards clarity.
Count with me. Count to clarity.
(for Tuesday night April 19) Tonight is the first night of the Omer.
How to count the Omer
Journal: What does Counting to Clarity mean to you? What first comes to mind when you think about clarity? What is clear/true/essential to you? What is un-clear, cloudy, in formation for you? Is there a particular question for which you seek clarity during this Omer period? An issue? Decision?
Counting to Clarity
My mind starts spinning when I think about Passover’s past and all the momentous moments marked in my life by this holiday. When I steady myself I realize I’ve been hit with a ton of awareness. It’s like Passover itself is a psycho-spiritual reality show and I am the contestants and viewers all.
Senior year of High School Passover arrived right after my Dad became paralyzed and we had Seder in the hospital; it was far from the idyllic feast from years past. Here’s where everything exploded. I encountered existential pain and confusion, and said goodbye to the illusion of coming from a “normal” family. On my own as never before while my mom cared for my dad, without advanced coping skills, I found myself lost. Trauma set off a serious need for re-ordering life that would take years to unfold – and some self medicating to deal until I found the help I needed. Freshman year of college I fell deeper into stuffing my feelings with food and then started to see how I had been compulsively overeating to blur my feelings. My first clean days were during Passover. The religious focus on food was a nice excuse for changing habits. Beyond avoiding chametz, I delved into self awareness, seeking, searching, listening, learning, reading, writing, working it out. For me Passover is my birthday, the anniversary of setting out on my soul’s path of healing.
In the metaphor that life is a spiral, I have a seam at Passover. Year to year, as time spirals onward, Passover bleeps loud and a line of serious life changing events forms. The rest of the year between, I submerge back into cloudiness, unaware even that I’m anticipating a certain surge of soul development. Not that I’m completely blurry at all other times, but markedly less aware of the change that is brewing.
The season stirs up the soul cycle. Spring-into-summer sun light shines first gently then bright, as opposed to the cloud cover and short dark days of winter. The spiritual cycle known as the dark night of the soul demonstrates that our soul lives can go underground to an obscure, opaque place where we can’t perceive them; that is the dark night. When dawn comes, our spiritual journey comes into our sight line again. My soul cycle seems to match the Jewish calendar’s Omer counting that begins with Pesach.
Passover is only the beginning, the first steps out of the darkness. The Omer is seven sets of seven days, each one leading toward the ultimate illumination – revelation itself. Just the act of counting each day, remembering to do this practice for seven weeks is a spiritual practice of building awareness. As we count, the days lengthen,, the buds turn to flowers, the world becomes green and sunny. We take account of what we see, hear, smell, touch, think, feel, sense. We begin to notice desire and direction. With each counting blessing we acknowledge: today is a day, with its own character, its own significance, its own teachers and lessons, gifts and challenges. Today we are one day closer to strength, freedom and clarity. Today we remember years past when clarity emerged out of the clouds.
This Omer season is devoted to counting towards clarity.
Count with me. Count to clarity.
(for Tuesday night April 19) Tonight is the first night of the Omer.
How to count the Omer
Journal: What does Counting to Clarity mean to you? What first comes to mind when you think about clarity? What is clear/true/essential to you? What is un-clear, cloudy, in formation for you? Is there a particular question for which you seek clarity during this Omer period? An issue? Decision?
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