There is no path. The path is many paths. It is an empty field. It is an entire twelve lane highway.
All this is hard. As much as I wish I could be soft with myself and understanding and even compassionate, I can be excruciatingly mean.
Jewish monastic communities could offer warm, exhilarating homes to many who seek a comfortable niche. Let's build them.
I’m lonely for a real leader. I’m surrounded by charismatic pulpit Rabbis, authors, lecturers, Halachic geniuses and community activists-- yet something is missing. I don’t feel like there’s anyone out there fighting for me.
Given the options, I’m glad I don’t fit in. I’m glad I keep my eyes open. I’m glad institutions make my skin crawl, that being in church—or anyplace that feels like a western, Christian, colonized knockoff—doesn’t feel right to me.
I don't really value external, objective success, but I want a certain brand of it oh so badly. Will exploring this desire help me find peace?
When you’re flying up a tunnel toward the iridescent Soul of the Universe, you had better not be driving the after-school carpool! So what purpose do these things serve?
Rivka examines why giving without expecting anything in return isn't as great as it's made out to be.
And then I see that which I can not un-see. What it looks like when a car so barbarically hits an elderly man. What it looks like when the Angel of Death wrestles Man. What it looks like when spirit starts to fade from matter.