The year 2020 has been a strange year, and so has the Jewish year of 5780.
As the sun sets tonight, we hope and pray for a better year.
What will 5781 bring us? Do we dare to dream of health and happiness?
Or shall we begin to brace ourselves for a long, hard winter?
It is our hope which will sustain us, and we pray for a better year.
5781 brings us hope, and another step closer to coming back together.
One look into Medusa’s eyes, you turn to stone
knows – but the demigod is brave
save his princess
there’s no getting in his way
deep in the Underworld, toss a gold coin to
cross the awful river
Medusa slinks +
slithers in her temple
‘till he slices off her head
uses it to kill the Kraken –
oh! how the gods play games with us
one day they’ll pay for
when they’re gone, forgotten
when we move to monotheism +
Zeus, Poseidon, the rest are studied
instead of worshipped.
(Photo from themarysue.com)
Clash of the Titans Note: I was inspired to write this poem after watching the movie – both the original 1981 version and the remake from 2010.
I knew nothing of Shabbat before you
or the prayers we say on Friday nights
as we break off pieces of challah + let the candle
burn all night by the window –
I’m happy you’ve taught me, it’s brought me
a new ritual in this life, the life we share together.
(Photo source: shutterstock.com)
We say grace before meals, give thanks to God
for food in the fridge + what’s set before us
knowing not everyone is as fortunate +
there are some, right here in this city,
who are starving + scraping by –
God, thank you for our daily bread +
nourish those not at our table.
(Photo by Hannah Busing on Unsplash)
I was a mess in college.
Two years before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I was enrolled at a university in New York with somewhat of a life trajectory, a moral compass, and many good qualities.
I have a (slight) problem with going on book-buying binges. When I feel anxious, sometimes I buy a book. I’ve reined in this annoying tendency recently to cut expenses. But when the pandemic hit in early March, I saw an essay about Albert Camus’ novel,
The Plague, and knew I immediately had to read it. Continue reading
Here’s another one of my art therapy drawings. Like many people, I love old churches, especially ones with big steeples and clocks. I also like this drawing because of the wide expanse of the grassy area.
You think God has left you, that perhaps
you’ve outgrown Him –
we all want to be gods now, in control of the things
that spin around us.
Prayer is a funny thing. How does one do it? What’s the purpose of it? Over the years, my prayer life has changed. And the ways in which I think of prayer, and it’s various uses, has also changed.