Little things.

My ex-boyfriend once bought me a little cactus. He presented it to me as such – not a cactus but a small cactus. He knew that would be appealing to me. Little is the operative word. I have an unusual attraction for little things. Babies, small portions of food, small gestures, small words, small animals, small (simple) ideas, small anything. I rarely see myself as a little person, but it is such a part of me. It seems contradictory to me at times. I’ve been trying to figure out how I operate in these two different mindsets.

Yesterday I went out to lunch with a wonderful woman who lives in Jerusalem. She has lived here for decades and has studied and taught at Pardes over the course of that time. I used her book when I did my alternative service on shabbas morning at A.H.A. I incorporated singing, praying, text study, yoga, meditation and breath work into the hour and a half not-service. It was a rewarding experience for me because I had a core few students who found great meaning in what we did. I was not at all disappointed by the low number – one of the things myself and my lunch buddy discussed was the need to recognize that these are not mainstream practices and many people will view them with suspicion or feel threatened by them. And then there are the few that will find great meaning and enjoyment in these practices. We spoke about yoga, text, my journey to Jerusalem and hers, but one topic in particular has stuck with me.

We spoke about how parents have the ability to shape how their children view themselves for their entire life –

I have spoken to several of you at length about how I view my time at my job this year in good olÂ’ Appalachia. One of the reasons I was so happy to bounce outa there was that one of the families on campus presented an example of that power to shape a child which was so horrifying that I found it difficult to be in public areas when they were around. I was further reminded of this phenomenon by someone who was traumatized in the last month when they visited G-BO to see old friends at campus. She worked there the year before me and hadnÂ’t witnessed this familyÂ’s behavior yet and she was still in shock weeks later when I met up with her in Jerusalem.

Their child wasn’t wanted. She is number 4. Their other children seem unhappy and are always out of control (I don’t need to tell ya’ll how much I love kids…you know….this is not AT ALL a criticism of these children or any). Theirs did not seem to be a supportive and happy home. They joked their entire pregnancy about the child not being wanted, “We’re going to call it depo-provera,” for example. This did not stop, as we all had hoped, when the beautiful little girl was born, but it amplified. I’ll get to the point. This little girl is going to potentially grow up viewing herself as such. She seems to have a negative cloud over her given to her by her parents. Will she be able to shake it? I haven’t been able to shake what my parents gave me. But this is precisely why I am so drawn to and revolted by this child’s story.

I have always seen myself as little. But being little made me big. I was a miracle – everything about me a miracle. I was premature and yet incredibly healthy. I was always the smallest. And I always knew I was special, I was simply a miracle. I felt absolute and safe love. I have my own Torah, my own holy story of my life. I came from an infertile woman. She was my Hannah and me her Samuel, I suppose. I was prayed for decades before when there was still hope that my mom might get pregnant. Notes in the kotel, prayers, hopes, expectations. And then I came when no one thought it possible – a miracle. I am given immense strength from this story – whether it is fiction or fact. It has shaped how I view myself to an incredible degree. And this poor little baby is facing such a different and more harsh reality. Will this be her story? Will it shape her the way mine has shaped me? I am small but certainly don’t act it or feel it. But I do embrace it, it is inherently a part of me – hence the title of my blog I suppose.

In other news, I have busy shabbas plans...it is bizarre that i am often so booked and yet it is the day of rest...shabbas here is a time to hang out and see people, and i am really getting to like it. I have met one person so far who also will be at Pardes this year and I am very fond, very fond. She and I are already off to a great start at exploring what this time has to offer us. Today in ulpan (the third day and it is going well despite my frequent state of confusion?) the teacher prompted us to start talking about the political situation. I didn’t like it. My second Arabic teacher at McGill did that and I didn’t enjoy it then either. Another pardesnik said to me, “get used to it, it is the norm here – people always want to talk about politics.” Hmmm….that could be challenging. But other than that ulpan is going well, as well as 5 hours a day in a language I only sorta know can go. I am sure it will improve my Hebrew immensely though, it is so worth it. I love being here, I think I’ve made the right decision, folks.

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Shabbat shalom. Love. Big love. Small love too if thatÂ’s all you got to give, beggars canÂ’t be choosers eh? ? Peace.