Fava Bean Meditation

היום ארבעה ועשרים יום, שהם שלשה שבועות ושלשה ימים, בעמר
Today is twenty-four days, which is three weeks and three days, of the omer
תפארת שבנצח
A day of compassion in a week of perseverance

I live in the world of the Gregorian calendar, I practice and work in the world of the Jewish calendar, and I eat in the world of the California agricultural seasons. All three have highs and lows, with predictable patterns that still manage to bring surprises.

One of the joys of eating seasonally is getting those first fruits that mark the season. That will be celebrated in the Jewish world during Shavuot in, as we know from this count, twenty-six days :) But it's happening right now in my farmers' market. Cherries have made their appearance, and for a brief time, there will be fresh fava beans.

Fresh fava beans have a crispness that isn't there when the beans are cooked from dried. They are a commitment to prepare, with a three step process--depod, blanch, peel--needed before starting to work with them. Sometimes I wonder whether it is worth it.

While peeling beans today, memories of time spent at Tassajara Zen Center Hot Springs during guest season floated into my mind. There are many reasons why that is a very special place, one being the food. It's not just the taste of the food and the sharing of the food; it's also knowing that it is prepared by people who are making preparing the food part of their practice.

And that's what I did today. Peeling the beans felt tedious until I stopped and just stayed in the present while I went bean to bean, not counting how many beans left, not thinking, "well, maybe I have enough." I just stayed with the rhythm of each bean until there were no more. It was a form of meditation, a well-needed break from the world outside. And like the students at Tassajara, it integrated my practice into my life. A lesson of compassion and perseverance.

It's not a lapse, it's an opportunity

היום שנים ועשרים יום שהם שלשה שבועות ויום אחד בעמר
Today is twenty-two days--that is three weeks and one day--of the omer
חסד שבנצח
A day of loving kindness in a week of perseverance

As we come to the end of this first day of the week of perseverance, a day of loving kindness, I am reminded one aspect of perseverance--to continue even when there is a lapse.

I didn't write a post for yesterday's omer day. Not even a place-holder, a "I don't know what to write but I can continue my practice by making a post." I simply didn't post. I counted--my "official" count is on Facebook, so anyone who is just looking here can check there. But I did not write, and that is what I have set for my omer practice.

Did I fail? Maybe--especially if I don't continue at all, which is something I have done in previous years. But I don't think of that as failure, since there is another year to pick up the practice.

Part of perseverance is taking in the lapses and folding them into the practice. They will happen. But this day of loving kindness gives me the opportunity to not just continue the practice but in some way, begin anew. 

Rabbi Lew would teach that the mind will often, if not always, wonder in meditation. Instead of seeing that as wrong, take the opportunity to take another first breath---and that first breath can be the most satisfying, and the strongest one that keeps you on the path.

Just keep stringing together those first breaths.......

One day at a time

היום עשרים  יום שהם שני שבועות וששה ימים בעמר

Today is twenty days, which is two weeks and six days of the omer
יסוד שבתפארת
A day of foundation in a week of compassion

Time is relative.

This morning, I was talking with a 26 year old contemplating rabbinical school and to her, five years is a long time. While I could smile, understanding her perspective, to me, as I approach six decades, it's a small segment.

Time is a matter of perspective.

Five years is short as I look back, but to my parents it must seem like a long time ahead, their ages feeding their need of immediacy.

Time is slow when I'm feeling impatient, and fast when a deadline approaches.

It is only in the present that time     just     is . . .

Meditation is one way of staying in the present; marking the omer is another. We stay grounded in each day with its own unique focus of sephirot. We are encouraged not to to look towards the next until we say the blessing and make the count.

The omer reminds us to take each day as it comes, whatever it brings. Perhaps that is the convergence of foundation and compassion.

First Fruits

היום אחד ששה עשר יום שהם שני שבועות ושני ימים בעמר

Today is sixteen days, which is two weeks and two days of the omer
גבורה שבתפארת
A day of strength in a week of compassion

Shavuot, the feast of the first fruits may be weeks away--4 weeks and 6 days, to be exact :) -- but yesterday I tasted my first fruits of the season--apricots, nectarines, peaches, and cherries. The nectarines and peaches have the tartness of the early season. The apricots are mostly sweet, with more consistancy coming in the weeks ahead. The cherries--sweet, tart--I don't care. I'm eating cherries again, and that makes me very happy.

One of the things I am grateful for in my Jewish practice is the awareness I have cycles in the day, the week, the month, and the year. Rabbi Lew instilled in me how the different ways knowing where I am in that time and space can bring different sets of mindfulness. Concentrating on the aspects of where I am now while being aware of the context of that present moment is a great focus for reflection. Spring is not winter; day is not night; month beginning has a different feel than month end. But as I teach in meditation--the wonder of concentrating on the present moment is that it contains all the moments that have lead to it; and it is a part of every moment that follows.

Which brings me to the joy of these first fruits. Because I eat seasonally, these are my first mouthfuls of this freshness this year. Waiting all year for these tastes, I have an appreciation for the time and energy it takes for them to reach my farmer's market. And I will take a portion of the bounty and freeze it to give me that hint of flavor through the rest of the year.

But the present moment of ripeness, while carrying both that past work and future reminder, is the peak experience. And these first fruits, like the first breath of meditation, feels--and tastes--so good.

Shabbat Interlude

היום עשרה ימים שהם שבוע אחד ושלשה ימים בעמר
Today is ten days, which is one week and three days of the omer
תפארת שבגבורה
A day of compassion in a week of strength

I take a deep breath, preparing to enter Shabbat
Thankful for this morning's rain and the late afternoon sun
Glad to be looking forward more than back
More aware of these steps towards revelation than I've ever been
Appreciating this peaceful moment

Finding my Makom Kavua in the Jewish world

היום שבעה ימים  שהם שבוע אחד בעמר
Today is seven days, which is one week of the omer
מלכות שבחסד
A day of nobility in a week of loving kindness

In Jewish tradition, there is a concept of makom kavua - a set place for prayer. The idea is that one's prayer can be more focused when there is comfort of being in place. As someone who tends to be a creature of habit, I appreciate this minhag, this custom. It is important to guard against becoming too attached to a place. It's not kosher--and certain not welcoming-- to insist on dislodging a visitor who has unknowingly taken than space. And there are circumstances when a change in place is necessary. In my almost 14 years of prayer practice, I've had major changes--such as when the building housing my space was torn down and then replaced; and small changes-- like when a newcomer arrived and appropriated my place just as I was gone for a long vacation. There's nothing I could do about the former; as for the latter, I found a new place in the spirit of shalom bayit--peace in the house.

It's fairly easy to adapt to changes in makom kavuah in my prayer life. I can always find another place to sit. Finding my makom kavua in the Jewish professional world has been a much harder task. I began my path back to Jewish observance and study in the spiritual realm. The physical practice of yoga led me to look at its philosophical underpinning. The similarities I found there with Judaism propelled back to the practices that I was so drawn to in my youth, but now in an environment without gender biases. I could develop a meditation practice within the container of Jewish tradition.

Through the years, I have found my self drawn to leading services, chanting Torah, finding ways to help my communities connect to the Jewish rituals that so deeply touch my soul. I felt the calling to reach out to those who are on a similar search but need help finding their way. How to fulfill that calling was and issue for many years.

No matter how many times I hear someone tell me I should go to rabbinical school, there are many reasons that will not happen. I have, however, found a place in Jewish education. As a teacher of both children and adults I can share my love and connections with Judaism on many levels. In return, I learn much from my students, and the spiral of give and take keeps everything fresh and relevant.

The way isn't always smooth, my confidence level wavers, and I am often the victim of my own doubts. But while the specific space may change, I have found my place, my makom kavua in the Jewish world. With the help of many wonderful communities to support me, I hope to keep my focus as I continue to answer the call.

Back with the Breath of Yoga

היום אחד ששה עשר יום שהם שני שבועות ושני ימים בעמר

Today is sixteen days, which is two weeks and two days of the omer
גבורה שבתפארת
A day of strength in a week of compassion

I don't know why I take time off from my yoga practice. It's not just the wonderful things it does with my body. There's such a positive effect on my mental state. I just feel better.

So, why have I had these periods of stoppage? Quite frankly, I don't know. But rather than spend the energy figuring that out, I'd rather approach each return like the first breath of meditation. That first breath is the best breath--your posture is firm yet relaxed; your mind is clear and present. Then, all too soon, you're back in thinking mode. When that happens, I tell my students, reset and go back to that first breath. If, in a period of meditation, you can string together a series of first breaths, you get the present focus you need.

Basking in a new first breath of yoga - hoping I can keep that beginner's mind.

Not just another Shabbat

Judaism is not so much a creed as a series of concrete activities. Shabbat is a vivid spiritual experience if we make Kiddush and Havdalah and fill the space in between with traditional Shabbat activities: study, prayer, singing, dancing and festive meals. If we don’t do these things, Shabbat is just another Saturday.

                 "The Year is like a River" - September, 1996

This Shabbat is certainly not just another Saturday. This Shabbat marks four years since the passing of Rabbi Lew. I share those and other words of his, and I write these words of remembrance to honor this man whose life and teachings taught me and so many of us how the concrete activities of Jewish life can bring us the spiritual experience we seek.

One of my favorite teachings of his, one that comes up for me again and again, is his teaching from the 15th century commentator Don Isaac Abravanel in his description of the Torah, the five books of Moses, as a blueprint for a spiritual life. This teaching echoes the path of Rabbi Lew's life, as well as holding the gifts that he brought us.

Bereshit - Genesis, the stories of our tribal origins, represents the personal spiritual seeking, ending in a leave-taking. Rabbi Lew’s personal spiritual journey is well known, and we were lucky that his path led him here. For he was able to reach out and speak to the spiritual seeker in all of us.  And he was able to show us how the rich traditions of Jewish ritual can act as signposts along the way.

Shemot - Exodus, our formation as a spiritual nation, represents revelation—hearing the words and concepts that will guide our lives and form our community. Through his teachings, Rabbi Lew brought us different meanings and interpretations of those words and concepts, showing us that revelation is not a one-time event of ecstasy, but something that can enrich our daily lives.

Which brings me to Vayikra - Leviticus, the nuts and bolts of the practice. Rabbi Lew was never one to water down practice simply to make it easier to follow. Instead, he inspired us to look to the deeper meanings, opening up the rituals in ways that made us want to participate as fully as we could.

Daily minyan is the modern version of the single lamb our ancestors offered up every morning and every evening. Praying every day we come to know the full range of human spiritual potential; from transcendent exaltation to stultifying boredom; from the frustration of not quite knowing what we're saying to the joy of being swept up in a spiritual energy larger than our own. Praying every day with others we get a very real sense of how difficult it is to join in real communion with others, and how wonderful it feels when we finally manage to do so; praying every day with others we come to explore that tenuous boundary between self and other which is always the real locus of the spiritual experience.

           “The Minyan is for Your Sake” – November 1996

Bamidbar - Numbers, the forging of community as we wander for 40 years, is about bringing the practice into our lives. And that is where, I think, our debt of gratitude to Rabbi Lew is at its greatest. For he made it his mission to share with all of us his love of Judaism and the deep spiritual sense it has brought to his life. That's what made his sermons so special—he didn’t just talk about the practice, he lived it. He didn’t just teach about the benefits of meditating, he was there at 6 a.m. He didn’t just preach the importance of keeping our minyan vibrant, he participated fully. He kept looking for ways to reach us all.

As a case in point, I looked to one of my favorite sermons of his, one given Rosh Hashanah 5760, in 1999. It's a sermon that demonstrates why we will always be filled with respect and love and honor for Rabbi Lew.

He first sets a scene of a news crew filming meditation—"Apparently, this is a thing of great amazement – a bunch of Jews sitting in the room without talking; quick,  get the cameras! Let's run this on the 6 o'clock news." They also film minyan. His description of minyan focuses on the time-honored Beth Sholom tradition of saying "Yasher Koach" – loosely translated, may the force be with you -- to everyone who participates in the slightest manner. Why do we do this? Rabbi Lew said: "We are congratulating you because of all the places you could have put your energy in this world, of all the forces you could have aligned your force with, you freely chose to be here, to put your energy here, to align yourself with the three thousand year old stream of spiritual energy we call Judaism"

Later in the sermon, Rabbi Lew goes on to relate that "Yasher Koach" moment to a moment in this country that demonstrated that same spiritual achievement — that moment in 1995 when Cal Ripken, shortstop for the Baltimore Orioles, played in 2,131 straight games, breaking Lou Gherig's record. Rabbi Lew understood that this achievement of being present and showing up each day made the difference in a world that doesn't always show up as we would wish. Rabbi Lew said "simple human presence – simply being present, simply persisting in being here – has tremendous spiritual power, It has the power to heal. It has the power to nurture."

Which brings us to Devarim - Deuteronomy, Moshe's last words to the people he has guided through the desert. I never heard Rabbi Lew mention Devarim in his Abravanel teaching, so one day I asked him what part of living a spiritual life did that book represent? He answered, “Devarim is about preparing for one’s death.”

Rabbi Lew left us too soon, but in the life he led, he understood that recognizing our mortality is an integral part of living a full life. And we have many of his teachings on this, as he spoke and wrote about Yom Kippur, the day in Jewish practice when we look to the meaning of death in our life. As he wrote in This is Real and You are Completely Unprepared:

This is the only life we have, and we all will lose it. No one gets out alive, but to lose nobly is a beautiful thing. To know the core of our being is to move beyond winning and losing.

It is to enter that moment where life is deep and rich and God is present for us. We all lose, some of us nobly, and all of us with a certain amount of tragedy. But as Rabbi Zimmerman (a.k.a. Bob Dylan) reminds us, “there’s no success like failure,” and any loss that carries us closer to the core of life is no loss at all.

Zichrono L’Vracha

His memory, living on in his teachings, is a blessing

"The river of life is inexorable. It will carry us to the end no matter what we do. Our activities, Jewish or otherwise, are unlikely to effect the outcome very much at all. But they can effect the quality of  the experience very deeply – in fact, they can transform it”

Open Handed Strength

היום ששה עשר יום שהם שני שבועות ושני ימים לעומר
Today is sixteen days which is two weeks and two days of the omer
גבורה שבתפארת
A day of strength in a week of compassion

Ten years ago as I was going through chemotherapy, I wrote a fair amount about strength and what it means to gain as well as give strength. I looked at strength "...with an open palm, not a closed fist -- of the strength in receptivity, of acceptance."

I also concentrated on being present--that is something that weaves in and out of all my journal entries from that time. Cancer treatment or not, I was participating in a 9 month meditation practice period at Makor Or. That in itself brought its own strength.

Strength in open-handed strength
Using judgement to lead to non-judgement
      Just what is.
Using power to take what is
To what the next is
     Will be.....

From Judgement to Compassion

היום חמשה עשר יום שהם שני שבעות ויום אחד לעומר
Today is fifteen days, which is two weeks and one day of the omer
חסד שבתגארת
A day of loving kindness in a week of compassion

At services yesterday, I spoke about how the kabbalists viewed Rosh Chodesh, the start of each month, as a chance for renewal. We start with the darkness of the new moon which then grows to fullness. It's a good time to take a breath, and have a brief moment of teshuvah.

I grapple with the judgemental side of my personality. I am very hard on myself; if I'm going to do something, I'd better do it right -- whatever that means. That attitude can seep into my observations of what others are doing--or not doing, as the case may be. And when my thinking goes in that direction, I become unaware of other aspects of what is happening that need to be taken into account.

In the early years of my Makor Or practice I spent a lot of my contemplative time looking at my judgemental tendencies. Then in a Elul teaching session,  Norman talked about looking at teshuvah not as repentance, as it is often translated, but as a returning--closer to its meaning. Keep turning around whatever it is you are concentrating on and see what is on the other side.

It was when I looked at the other side of my judgement attitudes, I saw compassion. For if I didn't care, there would be nothing to be judgemental about. So if, when I'm feeling those judgemental thoughts inch up on me, I can focus on the why do I care, I might be able to find the compassion that lives on the other side. And if I can look at what is happening through the lens of that compassion, I can find a clearer way to help what ever the situation may be--it may be to help others, it may just help myself. It may be that I find a way to solve an issue; it may be I find a way to let an issue go. Either way would bring loving kindness into the mix.

School Daze

היום שלשים יום שהם ארבעה שבועות ושני ימים לעמר
Today is thirty days, which is four weeks and two days, of the omer
גבורה שבהוד
A day of strength in a week of humility

This evening was the last session of religious school at Peninsula Temple Beth El in San Mateo, the synagogue where I teach seventh and eighth graders. This completes my second year of teaching there. They have asked me back for next year, and I have accepted their offer.

It was far from smooth sailing this year. Some teachings that went over well last year didn't work this year. I had less individual discipline problems, but the group of students in my first trimester core class  at times got the best of me. And for some reason there were more attendance issue this year. It seemed like I had a different group of kids each week.

But these issues made me work harder, look for new ways to engage my students. Through the Bureau of Jewish Education I learned new classroom management techniques. My involvement in the LINK Fellowship at the Contemporary Jewish Museum gave me new insights into curriculum, which led me to better ways to structure my lesson plans. Sometime mid-year I hit my stride, and my last trimester core class went very well. There was lots of active participation during the lessons. And the meditation element that I introduced at the start of each session seemed to resonate with quite a few of the kids. So while it's not easy to figure out how much of this year's teachings reached my students, I know some of them will move on in their lives knowing they have the ability to ground and center themselves when the atmosphere around them is full of stress.

Both strength and humility are important attributes for teachers. Strength is needed to stay on course with kids whose goal is to distract  you; humility opens your eyes to see when those detours can lead to more and sometimes more important learning. The knowledge I gain from my students makes me a better teacher.

Holding Past, Present, & Future

היום אחד ועשרים יום שהם שלשה שבועות לעמר
Today is twenty-one days, which is three weeks, of the omer
מלכות שבתפארת
A day of majesty in a week of compassion

Nine of the fourteen videos I've been working on are now done and delivered. With the decrease in my workload I'm able to participate in the yoga immersion this week given by my teacher, Susannah Bruder, at her studio on Portrero Hill, Yoga Sita. This time it's a group of seven students practicing together each morning from 7 a.m. to 9:30 a.m. Along with the physical, asana practice we also spend some time at the end of each session learning and discussion the philosophy of yoga.

This week we are looking at some of the Yoga Sutras, the foundational text of yoga. Susannah has asked us to look at the third chapter of the Sutras which focuses on the capabilities of the mind. Several of the Sutras focus on developing a state of concentration of the mind. In my first read this evening, I was drawn to the sixteenth Sutra of the chapter, which says that bringing Samyama--concentration and meditation--to the process of change and time brings in knowledge of the past and the future. Once again, I experience a convergence of my Jewish, Yoga, and meditation practices.

When I teach Torah, whether it's to adults or adolescents, I always talk about the timelessness of the text and it's teachings. The beauty of true sacred texts is that they are able to speak to each generation in its time. That is how they have remained relevant for thousands of years, and will continue to be relevant for thousands of years to come.

When I teach meditation, I always talk about the importance of being in the present moment. The present moment is a container for all moments, for the time past has a part in this moment and this moment will be a part of the time to come.

It also came to mind on this day of majesty, this day that I am looking at through the lens of leadership,  that a good leader needs to hold the past and look to the future while making the best decisions for the present. A difficult balancing act, but necessary to be able to lead with clarity.

Invisible, Intangible

היום אחד עשר יום שהם שבוע אחד וארבעה יומים לעמר

Today is the eleven days, which is one week and four days, of the omer

נצח שבגבורה

A day of perseverance in a week of strength

A couple of days ago I mentioned that I teach Torah to 7th graders. We start each class with a short period of meditation. While I teach them the breath centered practice I learnt from Rabbi Lew and Norman Fisher, I will often give them something to think about while they sit quietly. Staying silent is not easy for 12-year-olds, they need help with focus, and "watching" their breathe is too hard a concept for many of them to grasp at this point in their development.

I start with the basic instructions--sit up, towards the front of the chair; plant your feet on the ground; place your open hands palm down on your thighs or on the table; again, sit up with your shoulders back. I tell them that meditation is simply about being in the present moment--not thinking about what happened in school earlier today or about that soccer game tomorrow--just be here...now. And then we breathe. Of course there's some giggling--as I said, the silence is hard for them. But each week they have a little more comfort with the practice, and a couple have come into the classroom, eagerly asking, "Are we going to meditate today?"

I end the quiet time--which is usually only a minute or so--with a poem, and then we recite the blessing for studying Torah. I try to read something that has a relationship to what we will study that evening. This week, as a prelude to our discussion about God, I read this poem by Ruth Brin, z"l, that is a favorite of mine. They seemed to feel the beauty of it--I hope you do too.

All the invisible things fill our days,

Music and love and laughter;

All the intangible things affects us,

Words and anger and prejudice.

You are invisible and intangible,

A God of moods and relationships.

Within us, you are the spirit of unity.

Beyond us, You are the guide to greatness.

We pray to You with an invisible, intangible prayer.

You answer with a flaming sunset

And the touch of a baby's cheek.

Shabbat Shalom

The First Breath

היום סמנא ימים סהם שבוע אחד ווים אחד לעמר

Today is eight days, which is one week and one day of the omer

חסד שבגבורה

A day of loving kindness in a week of strength

The start of the second week of the omer, and on a certain level, the work of this period really begins. For the first week we're involved in Pesach, when we're reminded of our journey each day as we find different ways to make matzah more palatable. Now that the holiday is over we need to rely on our own commitment to the practice with little ritual to guide us.

Once again, in this time, I often think of Rabbi Lew, z''l. As dedicated as he was to Jewish practice, he found counting the omer a daunting task. By his own admission, he often lost the count in the early going. But each year, he would start again, hopeful that this would be the year he would make it through. Inevitably, he would not, but he didn't look at it as a failure. Failure would be not to try at all. To him, the practice was to start each year and go as far as possible. Think of the feeling in the year that would get finished. It's similar to being a loyal sports fan--an analogy Rabbi Lew would certainly appreciate. Ask die hard Boston Red Sox fans or San Francisco Giants fans how they felt when their team won the World Series after so many years of drought. Their joy, I'm sure, was much sweeter than any who joined the bandwagon just in that year. I know how I felt when, in 1987, my New York (football) Giants won their first Super Bowl.

I teach meditation with the same principle in mind. You have the best intentions. You sit on the cushion, set yourself--legs grounded, chest lifted, mind focused on the breath. You breathe in, you breathe out, and before you know it---your mind has wondered off. That's fine. Just restart. That first breathe is the best one--and the one you will have when things are in a tizzy around you and you need that grounded time the most.

Sacred Space - Meditation

היום השמנה ועשרים יום שהם ארבעה שבועות בעמר
Today is the twenty-eighth day, making four weeks of the omer
מלחות שבנצח
A day of majesty in a week of perseverance

Right after I publish this post, I will leave to teach at PTBE. In my class on sacred space with the 6th graders, I am going to teach meditation. I'm sure some of the kids will find this odd, some may act up. But there are always a couple who hear the message, who get how it works and how it can help them in their lives. They will learn that they can stop and take a moment, breath, and focus. The best lesson I can teach.......

Before I go, I'll share the poem I will recite at the end of their meditation. It's one of my favorites from Ruth Brin entitled "Invisible, Intangible"

All the invisible things fill our days,
Music and love and laughter;
All the intangible things affects us,
Words and anger and prejudice.

You are invisible and intangible,
A God of moods and relationships,
Within us, you are the spirit of unity.
Beyond us, You are the guide to greatness.

We pray to You with an invisible, intangible prayer.
You answer with a flaming sunset
And the touch of a baby's cheek.