The power of silence, the limits of words... in essay form.
What causes us to think we know what we are seeing, when, in fact, we are looking away?
I am elemental-celestial, fashioned by the hands of my ancestors from their very own prayers and bones.
And other Yom Kippur tips for embracing our imperfect selves.
This Hanukkah, the world is upside down. Let's flip the script.
Losing stuff, mean people, hair in my food... I rant a bit. And hope for something better.
Watching my father go through this process when I was in high-school, I knew this was my messorah. I knew I had an obligation to keep it alive, in anyway I could. But I didn’t, did I? I was marrying an Ashakanaz guy.
Where is the space in a three day Yontif to balance communal responsibilities and solitary recharging practices?
Let us know the generousness of wild, abiding and unbounded love.
